Please Hold
Cutscene: Please Hold
IC Details

Khalid calls Time Out for himself.

IC Date: January 19, 2019
IC Location: Brooklyn, New York
OOC Notes & Details
Posted: 21 Jan 2019 05:33
Rating & Warnings:
Associated Plots

"Can I make a request? A suggestion?? Can I just have a few minutes to myself without having to constantly fix something???"

Judging from the static metal silence, Khalid knew nothing was getting through. Exhaling a frustrated sigh, the med student dragged his hands over his face as he tried to rub the exhaustion out of his bag-lined eyes.

"A few minutes, Nabu," he pleaded wearily. "That's all I'm asking for."

It wasn't every day he spoke to a floating helmet. He never really had to stop to the side where no one could see him hold these 'special' conferences with the antiquated piece of Egyptian headgear before. Except this had been his reality for the past several months. Each appeal since then was met with the same, non-verbal answer.

But the helmet dipped slightly. To his surprise, a familiar disembodied voice echoed in his head.

In time, there will be rest. There is still so much to do.

Khalid immediately squinted. "No." He shook his head slowly, picking up speed the more he continued. "No no nono no, you don't understand. Things have picked up again." He waved a hand, making his words plain. "If you haven't been aware, I have a life. I have a school life! And a social life??" The latter he wasn't so sure of, but it padded his argument. "I don't know where you've been, but classes have started and I'm expected to pass them with flying colors even before the semester ends." The gesturing bounced between lighter motions and harder edges to emphasize his points, repetitively staccato toward the end. "And I can't be falling asleep in the middle of any of them after getting sidetracked with saving people!"

Which he did do. On accident. He meant to pay attention to the topic the syllabus listed that one day. Falling asleep wasn't his intention at all. Not only did he hurt his face falling forward at his desk, he lost several points to his dignity. That alone was enough cause to spend the rest of his night studying the material for his next class.

Another appeal. Another push. He might as well try. "Look, as much as I want to throw what little free time I have into doing good where others can't, I…I can't," he reasoned, circling back around to meet the helmet's eyeless gaze. "There's still a bunch of hero-types out and about! They can handle a few more jobs…right?"

The Helmet of Fate said nothing.

If he was anywhere near the Hudson River, he was sure he would have chucked the helmet into its gross brackish waters.

"But I won't," he muttered, making clear to Nabu that it was merely a passing thought.

Again he was stuck. Stuck in a role he was chosen to fill, but wasn't prepared for. Stuck between living a mundane life with mundane goals and dealing with the supernatural — the kind of stuff he had never thought real until he was facing it head-on.

What he couldn't wrap his head around was the entire community tied to its very existence. The second he had other things to think about, it completely slipped his mind, fading into the background like white noise. Now that he was taking the time to reconsider what was important, the unexpected New Year meeting he had with Zatanna Zatara and her speedy friends stood out as a reminder — as another option among the paths he already had open to him.

He could choose to not be stuck. He could try to embrace the powers he had been granted and work on refining what he already had access to.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry that it chose you."

…What did she mean by that? His brow furrowed, eyes resting on the helmet once more. Nabu had told him a lot, but there were still so many questions left unanswered. Asking for a logical reply was like pulling teeth, and he didn't feel like playing twenty questions to get somewhere.

But he never felt like he was being manipulated by Nabu.

…Or was that was he was being made to think?

Seconds passed, turning into a full minute before Khalid sighed, cuffing the helmet to deposit it back into his bag. He then pulled out his phone, picking through his unread messages. After shooting off a quick reply to Shaya, he switched screens, jumping into his list of contacts.

Zatanna Zatara

The tapping of his thumbs was short-lived. Hesitation took shape in a held breath as he scanned over the letters, uncertain if he should even entertain the thought any longer.

One last sidelong glance. His thumb then moved on its own accord.


His life wasn't going to get any easier. Why stop now?

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License