[It isn't strange. Bruce has been afraid of the dark. He'd been afraid of being alone. But the fear hadn't stopped what happened- it hadn't made the alley any safer, it hadn't left either one of the Waynes behind to haunt the manor with him. Bruce's desperate, early attempts to try and conquer that fear were rooted in his shame. In pain and in regret- as if he could keep himself from ever feeling so powerless again. He'd thought that if only he had said something- if he had shouted, if he hadn't wanted to leave the theater early.
Is it the world that's changed or is it him? He appreciates it for the privacy it offers, the quieting of all things, what it can hide. That he can fold himself inside it and disappear too.
Even monsters are afraid of something. Bruce included.
He's careful to keep his gait even, to allow it to sync to the girl beside him so that they're side by side at all times, never further than a few inches from each other. His own lantern hangs from his hip, secured there by a series of short loops, staring back out into the night. Her question doesn't sound meek, it sounds engaged- a desire to know that Bruce understands implicitly. It's natural he thinks, that people want to protect someone they perceive as a child. People had wanted to protect him too.
It hadn't mattered.
His brows come together and Bruce's head tilts very faintly to one side, a moment of consideration as he chooses the words.]
They say that we're here because we've died. But people can be killed here and appear a few days later at the church.
Unless it's because of the lantern. If the lantern is broken or lost, if the flame goes out, the person can't come back. Sometimes their bodies are found, but not always.
no subject
Is it the world that's changed or is it him?
He appreciates it for the privacy it offers, the quieting of all things, what it can hide. That he can fold himself inside it and disappear too.
Even monsters are afraid of something. Bruce included.
He's careful to keep his gait even, to allow it to sync to the girl beside him so that they're side by side at all times, never further than a few inches from each other. His own lantern hangs from his hip, secured there by a series of short loops, staring back out into the night. Her question doesn't sound meek, it sounds engaged- a desire to know that Bruce understands implicitly. It's natural he thinks, that people want to protect someone they perceive as a child. People had wanted to protect him too.
It hadn't mattered.
His brows come together and Bruce's head tilts very faintly to one side, a moment of consideration as he chooses the words.]
They say that we're here because we've died. But people can be killed here and appear a few days later at the church.
Unless it's because of the lantern. If the lantern is broken or lost, if the flame goes out, the person can't come back. Sometimes their bodies are found, but not always.