bruce "i'm kin with bats" wayne (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pearlstrings) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
logsinthenight2019-12-03 09:08 am
pearlstrings) wrote in logsinthenight2019-12-03 09:08 am
Entry tags:
closed
characters: Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Riku, Vanitas
location: The museum + the church
date/time: Post Sandman event- from the point that the dreamers wake +4days
content: Jason tips his hand and some complicated truths are revealed + Bruce goes to the church to wait for familiar faces to be resurrected
warnings: violence, gore, character death
museum | jason todd
[He's dreaming until he isn't. It's a difficult thing to describe as dreaming in the first place when Bruce doesn't remember falling asleep. They're before and after images- he had been there, at the dinner. And then he'd been looking up at the church, squinting through barely remembered sunlight.
His body feels stiff and that's perhaps the first sensation to occur to him. The muscle in his stomach and arms is tight from disuse, his back feels like one solid shape that's been locked together. Everything is dark and cold. Bruce tries to flex his toes but he isn't sure if it follows through- if it's an idea of if it actually carries. He tries his fingers. And slowly he becomes aware of his face- the muscle around his mouth and the space between his brows. There's no corona behind his closed eyes and Bruce is sure he must be back where he started, but he isn't vertical anymore. Everything around him feels strange and muted- as if his hands are over his ears.
A small noise comes out of him, not quiet a grunt, but more than a breath. And slowly Bruce is able to open his eyes for the first time in two weeks.]
church | riku + vanitas
[Jason leaves. This is not unexpected because in the time they've known each other, if it could be called that, Jason leaving has become a sort of constant. Their paths intersect from time to time, and then they are forcibly diverted. Bruce doesn't blame him; he suspects that Jason would have fled while he was still smouldering if he could. It was necessity that had kept them together, reversed their positions.
But alone in the museum once more Bruce hears his tablet respond, an incoming message. It's reassuring to see that Riku is present and accounted for, that he's already trying to get on top of things, to organize. Bruce understands this reaction because it's one that they share.
And that changes as soon as the tablet chimes again. The bulletin.
If he is honest (and Bruce tries to be honest) he isn't take aback to find Vanitas's name on the obituaries. He has been listed before, but there is a chaotic recklessness in him that Bruce has long since been aware of. A kind of fearlessness in regards to his own limits, to whatever pain his actions might incur. There is a moment where he considers how this might change his demeanor and what Bruce might be able to learn about his motivation. But that moment is subsumed by Jim Gordon's name on the list. It strikes Bruce like a glancing shot- that makes his ears ring and makes his body feel hot with urgency and nausea.
The James Gordon he knows has always been part of the GCPD and by extension his life has always been close to danger. Sometimes that danger is more present than others, sometimes it's more personal. He has been targeted more than once and Bruce has lost sleep for worry before. He has has practice clamping the lid down on what might have happened, on his worst fears. He tries to remind himself of this now, as he climbs to his feet and tears out the door without bothering for a jacket or even his shoes. The dead do not stay dead here. He knows this to be fact, he has seen it, Vanitas himself is a testament.
But the fear persists.
Bruce races to the church like a man possessed, along dirt trails and through trees, until the building looms ahead of him- a strange twin to the place he'd just woken from.]
location: The museum + the church
date/time: Post Sandman event- from the point that the dreamers wake +4days
content: Jason tips his hand and some complicated truths are revealed + Bruce goes to the church to wait for familiar faces to be resurrected
warnings: violence, gore, character death
museum | jason todd
[He's dreaming until he isn't. It's a difficult thing to describe as dreaming in the first place when Bruce doesn't remember falling asleep. They're before and after images- he had been there, at the dinner. And then he'd been looking up at the church, squinting through barely remembered sunlight.
His body feels stiff and that's perhaps the first sensation to occur to him. The muscle in his stomach and arms is tight from disuse, his back feels like one solid shape that's been locked together. Everything is dark and cold. Bruce tries to flex his toes but he isn't sure if it follows through- if it's an idea of if it actually carries. He tries his fingers. And slowly he becomes aware of his face- the muscle around his mouth and the space between his brows. There's no corona behind his closed eyes and Bruce is sure he must be back where he started, but he isn't vertical anymore. Everything around him feels strange and muted- as if his hands are over his ears.
A small noise comes out of him, not quiet a grunt, but more than a breath. And slowly Bruce is able to open his eyes for the first time in two weeks.]
church | riku + vanitas
[Jason leaves. This is not unexpected because in the time they've known each other, if it could be called that, Jason leaving has become a sort of constant. Their paths intersect from time to time, and then they are forcibly diverted. Bruce doesn't blame him; he suspects that Jason would have fled while he was still smouldering if he could. It was necessity that had kept them together, reversed their positions.
But alone in the museum once more Bruce hears his tablet respond, an incoming message. It's reassuring to see that Riku is present and accounted for, that he's already trying to get on top of things, to organize. Bruce understands this reaction because it's one that they share.
And that changes as soon as the tablet chimes again. The bulletin.
If he is honest (and Bruce tries to be honest) he isn't take aback to find Vanitas's name on the obituaries. He has been listed before, but there is a chaotic recklessness in him that Bruce has long since been aware of. A kind of fearlessness in regards to his own limits, to whatever pain his actions might incur. There is a moment where he considers how this might change his demeanor and what Bruce might be able to learn about his motivation. But that moment is subsumed by Jim Gordon's name on the list. It strikes Bruce like a glancing shot- that makes his ears ring and makes his body feel hot with urgency and nausea.
The James Gordon he knows has always been part of the GCPD and by extension his life has always been close to danger. Sometimes that danger is more present than others, sometimes it's more personal. He has been targeted more than once and Bruce has lost sleep for worry before. He has has practice clamping the lid down on what might have happened, on his worst fears. He tries to remind himself of this now, as he climbs to his feet and tears out the door without bothering for a jacket or even his shoes. The dead do not stay dead here. He knows this to be fact, he has seen it, Vanitas himself is a testament.
But the fear persists.
Bruce races to the church like a man possessed, along dirt trails and through trees, until the building looms ahead of him- a strange twin to the place he'd just woken from.]
no subject
[Bruce's fears are too intimately tied to his desires and in many ways that makes them easy to weaponize. Anyone that gets close enough to see underneath, to peel away the layers he covers himself in, will know exactly where to push, will know exactly how much pressure is required. But it also means that he isn't cowed by the reply leveled at him. He has no interest in defending the person that Jason knows, the person he may yet grow up to become.
But the experiences he's had, the place he's ended up, all of it- deserves to be heard. Bruce has never been very good at following advice or opening himself in the ways he's been asked to, especially for the people that worried for him most. He recognizes that Jason is maintaining a perimeter between them, checking the metaphorical bricks in the wall. He suspects it's been this way for a long time, that by extension, Jason can't hear that it is that simple.]
People deserve to be heard.
[He remains seated, watchful and still. Jason's gun remains beside him on the table, chamber loaded, safety off.]
Surely, sometimes the right way is also the ugly way.
no subject
[ there is a small, bitter laugh that comes from the back of his throat before he can really help it. the ugly way was what he tried. look what that got him: disowned and teetering on the edge of Bruce personally throwing him out of Gotham. it had took a bit of a hail mary to stop that. And honestly?
every way Jason could think of to resolve anything was at the very least... pretty ugly. and maybe it's the pain, maybe it's just feeling that little hope. but it's comical. ]
Oh, that's funny. I could tell you what the ugly way looked like, but again. I don't think you get what you're asking. Talk is cheap, you know that.
And I could be a liar, you know.
[ or a con-man. like father, like son, right? everything Willis and Cathy Todd passed onto him. everything he'd learned on the street. he has a feeling Bruce thinks he has him pegged. that he could pick up the bread crumbs. but there was still a distinct information advantage. between the two of them, Bruce is way more curious about him than he is about Bruce. there are aspects of everything that could be different.
he suspects they're different.
but what advantage does he get from working things out with a Bruce that he'll never see again once this is over? some other Jason Todd might be less of a fuckup, might still get to survive and come out of this okay? Yeah, Jason's not willing to bet on himself in that case. he stands, looking for the things that shouldn't have been totally trashed, ignoring the tightness in his upper body. the pain searing along burn lines and hand prints, where total burns had only just become partial burns. ]
Every way is the ugly way with me, Bruce. It's the Jason Todd special.
no subject
[He gets to his feet slowly. It isn't the first time he's made a conscious effort to be trackable- for his movements to be clear and distinct, able to be followed and observed. It isn't even the first time he's done it for Jason. This isn't the only thing he's willing or able to offer, but he suspects it's the only thing Jason will accept. In this moment at least.
His legs are stiff, the muscle tight from disuse in the combination of weeks spent sleeping and hours crammed into a chair at the man's side. He doesn't make an effort to close the distance because while Bruce can acknowledge that he isn't socially adept, he knows how to read a body. He knows his approach with be unwelcome- that it may even feel like the tightening of a noose.
Bruce isn't swayed by ugliness. How can he be, when he knows how much of it lives inside him too? Jason has asked him almost nothing and while that absence of curiosity might be painful for someone else, it isn't something he can hold onto right now. This isn't about him. It speaks more largely to the conflict of ideologies Jason levels in his direction. He says that he doesn't want to hold him accountable for the actions of some other man, but he makes to effort to understand this one. He wants to maintain distance but circles back anyway, a wound he can't stop picking at. That won't heal.]
I can accept that you feel afraid. Maybe you're afraid of my reaction to it, or maybe you're afraid of what it'll mean for you to put into words. I know that the truth is often unkind.
If you want to keep it to yourself as a means of control, a kind of power advantage then I don't fault you for it. I think it's what I would do.
But if we're ever going to be more than that, it won't happen because of me.
It's a decision you'll have to make.
[He wonders if Jason regrets it all. If, given the chance, he would tell Bruce not to stop for the boy taking the tires. That he'd be better off.]
no subject
an immediate flood of defensiveness, and his eyes narrow.
he's died. he came back, he's lived through everything since then, only with the slightest nagging at the back of his mind that he probably shouldn't even be alive. that it would be better in a fuller sense if he weren't-- after all, the Lazarus Pool has brought its share of struggles. but it takes everything in him to fight that defensiveness, and the tight line it draws in his body. he doesn't want to lash out, but he knows he's going to. ]
I'm not afraid. [ he can't help the anger that trembles in his voice at that word ] I just have no expectations anymore. You think I haven't put it into words? That I didn't immediately try to figure out why you erased me, and then left the man who killed me alive?
That I didn't try to deal with being replaced, and then disowned? And when all of that fell through, that I tried to do things the "Batman" way, for all the good it fucking did me?
You don't know what you're asking.
no subject
What he'd meant by afraid was that he could understand what it meant to look at a box, sealed by every possible lock and to have someone asking to open it. But what he meant doesn't matter. You erased me, Jason says. And Bruce can't find it in himself to think it out of character- not when he's seen what he does to his own pain. Left the man who killed me alive. Bruce has killed two people already and destroyed everyone he loved in the process. This too he believes himself capable of.
Bruce watches him, and is lapsed profoundly into silence- a mute witness.]
no subject
it threatens to oppress everything around them as fully as the darkness does, as Jason observes the pensiveness written on Bruce's face. the lack of reaction.
silence is assent. silence is an admission as loud as any protestations.
it leaves jason alone in all of the admissions he's just given. the information he didn't want to share, and the uncomfortable acknowledgement that he isn't over it. that he will never be over it. and that until the end of time, he's always going to be Sisyphus. He would never be able to move Bruce. and it can only be a second, a moment in time, but it feels like agony.
he looks away and as smoothly, grabs his gun. and makes to grab his boots.
he couldn't take it anymore. ]