"You know what could happen," Zayn says. Zera nods. Their hair tangles together when she moves, catching on her twin's long eyelashes. She thinks of Zayn as her twin, not her triplet; they're the ones who are alike, the same starry black hair, the same xenolinguistic magical tongues. Their mother is driven to distraction when the twins speak magic in Kryptonian, in Martian, in Spanish and Tameran and Cantonese, all the languages they've greedily learned from the aunties and uncles in the League.
They're not just incredible magicians, performing spells in tandem, but they have a dizzying number of spells available to them in this delicious smorgasbord of language. They've been learning them together for all of their sixteen years now, and the repository of magic between the two of them is unspeakably vast. Soon, Zera thinks, they might not even need to speak aloud. She'll just have to meet Zayn's clear, guileless blue eyes (the only way they're different, is that Zera somehow got the kind of deep brown eyes that tends to be described as inscrutable), and the magic will work.
"We have to do it, Zayn. You know that. There's no choice." They've already sent Kon and Billy away. They've already frozen Mom and Dad, sealed them up in the Fortress where the twins used to play as children among the otherworldly ice crystal formations. Zera doesn't even want to think about what happened with Uncle Zach. She digs her fingernails into her twin's arm and he makes a little hurt noise, astonished that she's pained him.
"Don't wimp out on me now, brother," Zera says, urgently, and he petulantly opens his mouth but before he can say anything at all, the lid of the corn crib is ripped away like so much tissue and he's standing there, flat blue of his eyes sizzling into red. In a horrifically absurd turn of events, the dried corn the twins are hiding in starts popping on the cobs, loud air bangs, and Zan-El laughs. Zera used to love her brother's laugh, once upon a time. Now there's no sound she hates worse.
Zan-El won't say anything to them. He stopped talking to them long ago, when he first started looking down on the twins for no having Kryptonian powers. Zera would almost find it all ironic, that the twins' power is language and Zan's is silence, but there's one more thing about it that's not funny at all. Zayn clings to her and Zan reaches down for them, strong hands, ice breath, the only course of action available to the twins is to magically dope themselves in the hopes that the pain won't be so bad.
There is one single, significant thing that Zan didn't inherit from their father. And that is Kal-El's vulnerability to magic.
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and now we are one | Kent-Zatara Triplets
Date: 2013-03-20 05:06 pm (UTC)They're not just incredible magicians, performing spells in tandem, but they have a dizzying number of spells available to them in this delicious smorgasbord of language. They've been learning them together for all of their sixteen years now, and the repository of magic between the two of them is unspeakably vast. Soon, Zera thinks, they might not even need to speak aloud. She'll just have to meet Zayn's clear, guileless blue eyes (the only way they're different, is that Zera somehow got the kind of deep brown eyes that tends to be described as inscrutable), and the magic will work.
"We have to do it, Zayn. You know that. There's no choice." They've already sent Kon and Billy away. They've already frozen Mom and Dad, sealed them up in the Fortress where the twins used to play as children among the otherworldly ice crystal formations. Zera doesn't even want to think about what happened with Uncle Zach. She digs her fingernails into her twin's arm and he makes a little hurt noise, astonished that she's pained him.
"Don't wimp out on me now, brother," Zera says, urgently, and he petulantly opens his mouth but before he can say anything at all, the lid of the corn crib is ripped away like so much tissue and he's standing there, flat blue of his eyes sizzling into red. In a horrifically absurd turn of events, the dried corn the twins are hiding in starts popping on the cobs, loud air bangs, and Zan-El laughs. Zera used to love her brother's laugh, once upon a time. Now there's no sound she hates worse.
Zan-El won't say anything to them. He stopped talking to them long ago, when he first started looking down on the twins for no having Kryptonian powers. Zera would almost find it all ironic, that the twins' power is language and Zan's is silence, but there's one more thing about it that's not funny at all. Zayn clings to her and Zan reaches down for them, strong hands, ice breath, the only course of action available to the twins is to magically dope themselves in the hopes that the pain won't be so bad.
There is one single, significant thing that Zan didn't inherit from their father. And that is Kal-El's vulnerability to magic.