(Present Day)
Raven marched into her room and sealed the door. It was a large room, unusual in Raven's life. Most of the rest of her life had been spent in rather Spartan, monastic quarters, or on the run. Once she had gotten a room of her own, she'd made it her own space with a vengeance. The windows were covered with thick curtains that, when closed could block out all sunlight. The walls were a smoky grey, with a large, half-canopy bed against one wall. Around the semi-circular bed, the wall was decorated with a smoke and mist mural in shades of grey and black. A single mirror with five sides hung over a small dresser and a medieval Italian chest stood by the door. The ceiling lamps were from Japan, and cast an eerie yellow light, while the sculptures around the room reflected a taste for the surreal. It was a dark room for a dark personality.
For a girl who claimed she didn't have any emotions, she had spent a lot of time rushing away from her friends lately. But then, she wasn't truly emotionless. Despite all her protestations to the contrary, such a state wasn't in her background. Her mother had been human, and as full of life and passion as any of that species. It was Arella's anger and bitterness that had driven her into the demonic cult where her daughter was conceived, and it was her suicidal despair and fear for the world that had led her to the monks of Azarath, where the child was born and raised. Raven's father, Trigon the Terrible, had been one of the Dukes of Hell. Not merely a demon, but the Thane of Perdition, he embodied anger, rage, jealousy, and some regarded him as the god of Fear.
So a tightly controlled, unemotional state did not come naturally to her. The calm façade people around her saw was the result of a lifetime of training and an iron will. When things were working right, she could separate a part of her soul from her body, and use it to move objects. Her control was fine, and she could move objects as fine as a needle or as heavy as a car. The same power allowed her to levitate, phase her body through solid objects, and even teleport short distances. But that was when things were working well. Raven's magic ebbed and flowed with her emotions, and so the monks of Azarath had trained her. Taught her to control her feelings and keep them locked safely away. She was dangerous.
Raven lived in Titan Tower, an unusual building on an island in the middle of Jump City bay. And unusual it should be, for it was built to house, train, and organize unusual people. Raven was one of five meta-human heroes who protected the city from threats that fell outside of the police and emergency first responder's capabilities. She strode to the middle of her room, reached the foot of her bed, and sat on the floor in the lotus position. Closing her eyes, she reached for the peaceful emptiness that would make everyone around her safe and began to meditate, chanting her mantra.
"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos."
Her pulse slowed. Her anger ebbed. She floated a short distance into the air, drifting on the winds of her mind, her midnight blue cloak gently waving behind her.
Raven was young, having recently turned sixteen. Not by anyone's standards a "normal girl," her demonic heritage was visible, even in her calm state. For convenience she kept her purple hair cut so that it broke just above her shoulders. It was long enough to put in a pony tail when working out, but short enough to wash easily and dry quickly. Her eyes were the purple of amethysts, and were usually cold and flat. Her skin was grey, and did much to give her the reputation for being stone-faced and cold. Most of the time she wore a blue cloak and hood behind which she hid her unusual features. Some would say she was slender and petite. If pressed, she would say that she was short and skinny.
"Why don't they just leave me alone?"
Robin, the team leader, always wanted her to explain why she withdrew. A trained acrobat and martial artist, Robin was the only "normal" human on the team. He wore his hair black and shaggy. Nobody knew what color his eyes were; even the closest members of the team have ever seen him without his harlequin mask. His work clothes were based on an old circus acrobat's costume, with a scarlet tunic, green tights, and yellow utility belt. And he had no basis for comprehending how her powers worked. - Didn't he understand that explaining required thinking and thoughts could release feelings? And feelings could release . . . power?
