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exsiliumlogs2013-09-21 05:59 pm
controlledvariable) wrote in exsiliumlogs2013-09-21 05:59 pm
Entry tags:
[closed] I once stepped on a dying bird, it was a mercy killing
Date & Time: Late night/early morning on the 20th
Location: A rooftop
Characters: Stephanie Brown and Helena Bertinelli
Summary: It turns out having a sentient weapon kind of sucks when you're having a crisis of identity
Warnings: Talk of violence/murder
[The words stick with her, the truth of them is almost cloying, like she could choke and drown on it. It hurts to think about, to know that Saul is right but to now know what the solution to the problem is. All she can see is losing herself further, giving more of herself to this war until there's nothing left, because maybe that means that Ellie won't have to, that Collette or Saul or Dinah or Babs can still be themselves. If this is a sacrifice she has to make for the people she loves, then so be it. That doesn't make it hurt less, but it makes it easier to bear, the reminder that she's doing this for a reason, that she's still protecting the people she loves.
It's something to cling to, when she feels so selfish the rest of the time, when she keeps making so many wrong choices in her personal life, lying to Ellie to try to spare her feelings, telling Saul she loves him even though they both know nothing can ever come of it, avoiding everyone from home because it's too hard to face them. She's selfish, and she's a killer, and all of it hurts, but she doesn't know how to do anything else, any more.
She feels like she's suffocating, like she needs air, so Steph grabs her Batgirl suit and pulls it on, planning to head out for a few hours. She's so desperate to get out into the open air that she doesn't really take a look at her uniform, doesn't notice the way the symbol on her chest has started to fade, the yellow dulled, as if it's gone through the wash too many times. All she does is leave a note for Ellie and slip out the window, firing her grapple gun and letting it pull her out into the night.
Usually, when she needs to forget for a little while, she can spend hours flying through the air, twisting and flipping across rooftops, but she needs to be careful tonight; the gash on her thigh is already healing too slowly, she doesn't want to risk opening it up again. She flies, but it's not enough, and before long she finds herself coming to rest on a rooftop, because she can't focus on a grapple line when her thoughts are swirling so darkly. Too much has happened for her to forget it, even for a little while, and in the end she finds herself on the edge of the roof, knees curled up to her chest as she watches the city through the rain. If she closes her eyes, she can pretend there's a gargoyle next to her, though she doesn't speak out loud like she might back home.
She wonders what Gotham would think of her, now, with blood on her hands. God knows the city isn't forgiving, but there's part of Steph that thinks of Gotham welcoming Jason back, and she can only pray her city will do the same for her.
Even if she can't be Batgirl, even if Bruce and Cass and Tim wouldn't recognize the person she is now, she has to believe her city would welcome her home.
If it doesn't, there's nothing else left.]
Location: A rooftop
Characters: Stephanie Brown and Helena Bertinelli
Summary: It turns out having a sentient weapon kind of sucks when you're having a crisis of identity
Warnings: Talk of violence/murder
And when I saw you with that gun, I thought... you know, that's not Stephanie. That's not Batgirl, either. I didn't know who I was looking at.
[The words stick with her, the truth of them is almost cloying, like she could choke and drown on it. It hurts to think about, to know that Saul is right but to now know what the solution to the problem is. All she can see is losing herself further, giving more of herself to this war until there's nothing left, because maybe that means that Ellie won't have to, that Collette or Saul or Dinah or Babs can still be themselves. If this is a sacrifice she has to make for the people she loves, then so be it. That doesn't make it hurt less, but it makes it easier to bear, the reminder that she's doing this for a reason, that she's still protecting the people she loves.
It's something to cling to, when she feels so selfish the rest of the time, when she keeps making so many wrong choices in her personal life, lying to Ellie to try to spare her feelings, telling Saul she loves him even though they both know nothing can ever come of it, avoiding everyone from home because it's too hard to face them. She's selfish, and she's a killer, and all of it hurts, but she doesn't know how to do anything else, any more.
She feels like she's suffocating, like she needs air, so Steph grabs her Batgirl suit and pulls it on, planning to head out for a few hours. She's so desperate to get out into the open air that she doesn't really take a look at her uniform, doesn't notice the way the symbol on her chest has started to fade, the yellow dulled, as if it's gone through the wash too many times. All she does is leave a note for Ellie and slip out the window, firing her grapple gun and letting it pull her out into the night.
Usually, when she needs to forget for a little while, she can spend hours flying through the air, twisting and flipping across rooftops, but she needs to be careful tonight; the gash on her thigh is already healing too slowly, she doesn't want to risk opening it up again. She flies, but it's not enough, and before long she finds herself coming to rest on a rooftop, because she can't focus on a grapple line when her thoughts are swirling so darkly. Too much has happened for her to forget it, even for a little while, and in the end she finds herself on the edge of the roof, knees curled up to her chest as she watches the city through the rain. If she closes her eyes, she can pretend there's a gargoyle next to her, though she doesn't speak out loud like she might back home.
She wonders what Gotham would think of her, now, with blood on her hands. God knows the city isn't forgiving, but there's part of Steph that thinks of Gotham welcoming Jason back, and she can only pray her city will do the same for her.
Even if she can't be Batgirl, even if Bruce and Cass and Tim wouldn't recognize the person she is now, she has to believe her city would welcome her home.
If it doesn't, there's nothing else left.]
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[No but for real.
She misses the therapist she had in Africa.]
You know vigilantism is illegal, right? By definition.
[As if they can keep making a joke of this, instead of Steph just pointing that Helena is wrong.
She's both those things, there's no way around it.]
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There's nothing pleasant about the sound. )
Right. Of course.
( Oh, God. Why hadn't she thought about it before? ) The Bats are the most infamous crime family in Gotham.
( Great. Everything is perfect. )
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She's laughed like that enough times to recognize it for what it is, that brittle crack before breaking.]
We should remember that if he ever shows up.
[She decides to keep with the joke, rather than drawing attention to the way Helena sounds.]
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( Something vicious in her raises its head, and she doesn't quite face Stephanie. ) I bet he was over the moon when the Bertinellis got wiped out. Taking out the competition families, right?
( He must have been so glad to hear that they got their justice. Her laughter is a bitter, shattered thing, the cracks in glass. ) You do a better job as the Bat than he ever did.
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I don't think he would've been.
[Happy.
People died, a little girl lost her parents. Bruce could never be happy about that, even if it meant less mobsters on the streets. She's not sure if she's defending him or trying to reassure Helena that someone wouldn't be that cold about her loss.
She has no idea what to say about the rest of what Helena says, so she stays silent.]
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( Because she was never good enough - there is no redemption, only the option to slip deeper.
But Stephanie still believes in the Bat, in what it means. Helena fixes her gaze on Stephanie, now, those sharp and careful things that catch even the slightest motion and stalk their prey. )
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She doesn't, but she wants to.]
He'd never be happy about people dying.
[Even if they were criminals.
That's kind of his thing, isn't it?]
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( How dare he. Murder might not be right, it might not be justice, and yet. ) What has it cost the people around him? How many lives do you think could have been saved if the Joker was put down years ago?
( If Sionis had been put down? No. ) I might be a monster, but at least I'm not one through inaction.
( Which might be the worst thing Batman is guilty of. )
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Steph knows what it's like, to be angry at Bruce, but she also wants to ask how Helena can do this now, when Steph barely just got herself back together after being so distressed over having to kill?]
I never called you a monster.
[What is Helena defending herself against, right now?]
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She was never very good at manipulation, unfortunately, and she grits her teeth with irritation. Stephanie really isn't a kid any more, it seems - the second people become adults, it's so much harder to deal with them. Her hand drops from her hip, and the air feels sharp against her lungs, even if her breath is steady. ) Right.
( The easy solutions never work. Should have known that already, Huntress.)
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The anger deflated too easily, and she isn't sure how to deal with it, how to respond.
So she doesn't, just draws her cape around her and watches Helena, waiting for whatever she has to say next, if there's anything.]
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( But Spoiler had been more accepting of the Huntress, of her violence, and so was Batgirl. ) Then you might remember you're a Bat. No matter what.
( Softly, flatly, and though there isn't defeat in her tone, she sounds tired. Sometimes, she wish she could just hate, be hated, that there was that fire in her blood to keep her moving. It doesn't matter, she keeps moving anyway, but sometimes she wonders if she even should be. This is my city, but this wasn't even Gotham. )
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Finally:] That's so fucking stupid.
[It's not said meanly, it's not an insult, not really. If anything she just sounds a little baffled, maybe a little sad.]
You shouldn't-- [a frustrated huff of breath] Don't make yourself some martyr for my sake. I don't need it, and I don't want it.
[She wants to find a way to reconcile her morality with her actions, but dragging someone else down in her place isn't the way to do it.]
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( Bluntly. It's sort of what she was doing, but at the same time, no. )
You need to take a step back from what you're doing and what you're thinking before you burn yourself up.
( Helena's already in the dark place. There's not really a way to drag her down any further. )
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We don't get chances to step back, here. [It's not angry, she just sounds tired.] As soon as one crisis is over we're thrown straight into the next one.
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( There is too much pressure, too much tension, for anything else to be the case. Stephanie is experienced, yes, but she is still young. )
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You're being a bit melodramatic.
[It's not dismissive, but there's a lightness to it.]
I think there's a few people who'd have something to say about it if I let myself get torn apart.
[Which is an odd way of phrasing things, but what she means is that she has support, people who care about her and will help her get through... whatever exactly this is.
Of course, that will require actually opening up to people, but one step at a time.]
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There's a few people. Fine, then. The Huntress' opinion was neither welcomed, nor is it apparently necessary. )
Suit yourself.
( And she's moving to go. )
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[Not that she's exactly sure how Helena took it, she just didn't mean it in a way that requires walking away from her.
But Helena was trying to help her, and Steph doesn't want to end the conversation like this.]
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( She is a bat, through and through. Didn't mean it like that? What was it meant to mean, then?
Huntress keeps moving, unhooking her grappling gun as she walks in long strides. Bats had to learn there were consequences, that the Huntress wouldn't always come crawling back. )
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She's going to jog after Helena, speaking quickly because she's worried Helena is about to completely bail on her, and then she won't be able to fix things:]
I'm shit at this, okay? [All of this; people caring about her and trying to respond to that, but she's working on it.] Most of the time I just deal with a problem by running until it can't catch up with me, but I'm not-- [another sigh] I don't want people to worry about me, you included, and it's not 'cause I don't appreciate it, it's just 'cause I don't know how to handle it.
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( A sneer, lip curled back cruelly, though she does nothing to turn and face Stephanie. ) Congratulations. You're a real bat, complete with a screwed up capacity for emotions. You can take home your symbol and polish it up just like new.
( Speaking over her shoulder, just about. It's audible, but unless Stephanie moves to overtake her or stand in front of her, she's going to keep moving. ) I'm sure Batman's ability to handle his emotions is exactly why he's the head of such a happy family.
( it was clear after No Man's Land, after knowing Barbara better, after seeing Dick so young and so idealistic. They were all totally fucked. )
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That hurts enough that she stops in her tracks, before moving again, quickening her pace, trying to at least put herself even with Helena.]
Sorry for spending most of my life with no one giving a shit about me!
[She's not sure what makes her angrier; the comparison to Bruce, or what feels like a dismissal of everything she's been through.]
I'm trying! Really hard, and I'm sorry if I said something that wasn't cool, but you don't get to throw this back in my face like that!
[Especially not when Helena isn't exactly all that emotionally healthy, but Steph doesn't point that out, because it'd be a dick move.]
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That's melodramatic, right? The difference is that Stephanie has people who care, now. Helena has people who tolerate her. Robin doesn't trust her, and he hadn't even known who the Huntress was before he met her. The people who liked her were the ones who hadn't seen all sides of her, and for that they may as well have seen nothing at all. )
I said leave it. ( And Stephanie pursued. That wasn't on her. She'd tried to warn her away from her own sharpness. )
You want to make yourself feel better? Or do you want to wallow in how bad and messed up you are?
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[It's not really a question, because if Helena's asking that question, she already knows the answer.
She literally just said that she's trying to be better about this, trying to let people in and let them help her. It's really fucking hard, but she's doing her best, even if she's starting to wonder if it's too late.]
Do I fucking seem like someone who wallows?
[She's pretty sure she doesn't. She lets her indulge in her anger and frustration, will give herself time to be upset about something, but she doesn't wallow.
That would be letting the world win, and that's the last thing she wants to do.]
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