duskofthegods_logs | (no subject)

Who: Dominique DiPierro and YOU
What: The new god of Law and Justice gets to work
Where: The Temple of Law and Justice and around Vernos Bay
When: Anytime in the first week after Dom claims the throne of Law and Justice

For the first day, it doesn't seem like much is different in Vernos Bay. But soon men and women start reporting for duty at police stations. Lawyers open their offices. Judges—the priest of Law—discover formal regalia that they'd forgotten they owned. Clerks set up shop in the Temple—the highest court in the land, as it turns out, sort of like Vernos Bay's equivalent of the Supreme Court or the Old Bailey (both of which buildings it vaguely resembles, Dom thinks).

Dom surprises herself a little. She turns out to be a fussy, hands-on sort, talking to everyone she can, learning about the way things used to run around here before the old gods disappeared. There's a lot of gaps. Rules and regulations that have fallen by the wayside, records and texts that need to be recovered from the dusty shelves and file drawers of the Temple. So she spends her week everywhere—in the Temple, at this or that police station, visiting a courthouse. You might see her there—or you might just see her about in the street, trying to get a decent cup of coffee or a sandwich.

As always, her clothes and hair and makeup are on point. Still, she looks a little tired and a lot driven—and also, weirdly perhaps, kind of happy.

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Alex still looks like she needs a nap, despite her claiming her bed-like throne. She feels like she's slept most of the day away, but it seems like she's probably got over a year of sleep debt to work her way through, and even being a goddess probably wasn't going to fix that overnight. So, she wandered in her red coat, her hands in her pockets around her device which is like a recorder but also so much is not.

She stops and smells the air almost like a hunting dog when she sees a woman with a cup in her hand. Moving quickly and purposefully towards her, Alex has decided she knows what she should ask for from her priests, and damn what it means for the throne that she's claimed. It's not her fault that her blood has been basically been replaced by caffeine since before college.

Her voice is warm and radio-ready with some of its canadian accent still there. "Oh my god, is that coffee?"

That's a really nice voice. That and the lady in question is ... kind of Dom's type. Probably. Insofar as Dom is aware that she has a type. Which is a whole other open question.

Anyway—"Yes. I mean, sort of. It's what currently passes for coffee without a God of Coffee to manage it, I guess."

For a moment, Alex just practically glows with hope. This would have been the one good thing that would have happened since she was here, because she has a lot of stuff to do back home...

And then her face falls and she lets out a sigh. "Something tells me we're going to need to wait for one of those. I mean, especially considering that the first thrones that people took here were death and luck of all things." Alex could talk quick, but then she offered a bit of a better smile and her hand. "Hi, I'm Alex."

"Dom DiPierro." A brief fumble as she switches her mug to her other hand, and she shakes Alex's hand firmly and briskly. "And, well, I guess I'm in charge of Law and Justice, myself. You? I mean, if you are—you know." A sort of wobbly hand gesture that's supposed to mean a god.

Alex takes Dom's hand with a grin and she smiles. "Nice to meet you." Alex means it because at this point she's started to feel more than a little bit like a den mother. She's only 34 but everyone seems so much younger than her. As for the god thing there's a little shrug. "Sleep. I mean. It seemed like the thing to do."

"Sleep? Interesting choice. Seems like it'd be a bit—I dunno, quiet?"

What the hell are you talking about, Dom?

Alex just shrugs at that, and she chuckles softly, the sound having more than a little shade of self-abashedness at that. "Well, I know it's one of the things I need the most, so I guess I was being a little selfish. I mean, back home I'm sort of an insomniac." Or actually an insomniac so bad that Alex needed a sleep therapist and even she couldn't help.

Demons were not fun things.

"Were you a cop back home?"

"Insomnia. I can definitely relate."

Alex can't know how the question stings right now, but Dom does flinch a little. Still, she pulls herself together to answer. "FBI, actually. Cyber crimes division, New York City."

Alex is a reporter, and a good one, so she's good at reading people's body language, and she can see that flinch easily. Without thinking about it, she reached out and put one hand on Dom's, and gave her a concerned smile.

"Hey. You okay?"

The physical contact startles Dom, but it's—not unwelcome. She stares at Alex's hand for a moment before she can work up an answer.

"Yeah. I mean. No. Not really." A deep, shaky sigh. "Things are kind of fucked up for me. Back home. Like really fucked up."

Alex knows shaky sighs like that. Her life is practically built on shaky sighs like that at the moment. Quickly, she steers Dom into a seat and she sits across from her, her eyes peering into Dom's. "It sounds like you need to talk about it."

Dom lets herself be steered and draws a deep breath. Her mouth opens and she's about to find somewhere to start—

—but then all she can see is Santiago and Irving and the axe and she feels the splatter of blood on her face all over again, even the Dark Army massacre and Cisco getting shot in front of her wasn't that bad—

—and she chokes, and suddenly finds herself wiping away tears.

"I can't," she manages. "I mean, I want to, I have to, but I—I can't." She swallows. "I guess it's still kinda raw." She tries to smile and fails utterly.

If there's one thing that Alex is good at, it's reading people and being a good ear, it's what makes her a good reporter. But she can also see that Dom's not ready to talk yet. Instead, she just sits there silently with her hand on the other woman's arm before she softly says: "It's okay. I'll be here when you're ready, Dom."

Dom nods, wipes at her face again.

"Thanks. That's really nice of you," she says. She looks down at the hand on her arm in surprise, but doesn't pull back.

"I wonder how many of us came here right when lives back home went in the shit."

"It's okay!" The voice is cheerful, but a shadow passes across her face at the statement about things going to shit back home. Just because it was true didn't mean that it hurt any less, and Alex just gave a noncommittal shrug before she squeezed Dom's arm and pulled back.

"Maybe they figure people in moments of crisis will be better gods or something?"m