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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.]
no subject
With not so much as a glance in Steph's direction, Helena's gone, snapping through the air. )