( unsurprising to everyone, the vigilante nightwing thrives in survival-type situations. it wasn't so long ago, then, that he'd lived in a world and a city overwhelmed with fear toxins, a single night built to destroy the entirety of the country -- thank you, scarecrow. of course, the sun rose and the dark knight came with it, the victor but also the loser in this way and that, his mask removed and his cape hung up to dry, the stillness of morning, and then
dick is, perhaps, just feeling nostalgic. reflecting on easier times, or maybe just the sorrows of yesterday. missing his father's grave, missing his fiance, missing the home and the life he'd made in gotham, built to be permanent. it should come with the job title that all things are fleeting, universes and worlds included. probably, he looks like a sad old man, the weariness of older age hanging on his shoulders, all at once feeling less like the child he has always been, and more like the adult he's been afraid to become. ( he has dreams about white picket fences and the bobbing of children's heads, a world without need or want for nightwing, and then he remembers, i can't live without it, anyway. ) he doesn't head to the city immediately. instead, there's a camp he builds himself just beside the outer ring of the woods, enough concealment found to stay under the radar from a wandering eye, but not invisible enough to not be spotted by people arriving to the city, lest they walk the same path he had.
there's also a baby elephant at his side, zitkad, frequently pffffbting. loudly. )
choose your own adventure
( ota. open to writing starters, hmu up fingerstripes )
DICK GRAYSON. ▎batman: arkham ( eudiocrau )
( unsurprising to everyone, the vigilante nightwing thrives in survival-type situations. it wasn't so long ago, then, that he'd lived in a world and a city overwhelmed with fear toxins, a single night built to destroy the entirety of the country -- thank you, scarecrow. of course, the sun rose and the dark knight came with it, the victor but also the loser in this way and that, his mask removed and his cape hung up to dry, the stillness of morning, and then
dick is, perhaps, just feeling nostalgic. reflecting on easier times, or maybe just the sorrows of yesterday. missing his father's grave, missing his fiance, missing the home and the life he'd made in gotham, built to be permanent. it should come with the job title that all things are fleeting, universes and worlds included. probably, he looks like a sad old man, the weariness of older age hanging on his shoulders, all at once feeling less like the child he has always been, and more like the adult he's been afraid to become. ( he has dreams about white picket fences and the bobbing of children's heads, a world without need or want for nightwing, and then he remembers, i can't live without it, anyway. ) he doesn't head to the city immediately. instead, there's a camp he builds himself just beside the outer ring of the woods, enough concealment found to stay under the radar from a wandering eye, but not invisible enough to not be spotted by people arriving to the city, lest they walk the same path he had.
there's also a baby elephant at his side, zitkad, frequently pffffbting. loudly. )
choose your own adventure
( ota. open to writing starters, hmu up