#brucies

What are you doing here, Bruce? It’s a question more befitting a fool than a daughter of Athena. Which is why it never crosses her frowning lips. Of course, Diana knows why the Dark Knight is at her door in all his foreboding glory. He intimidates and inspires the people of his city in equal doses, but Diana only sees the man incased in Kevlar. He breaks and he bleeds, just like the rest of us. He has his faults, but most of all, he has his convictions. Convictions that often boil the blood beneath Diana’s skin. Convictions that will one day get him killed.

Danielle Wellys. The young woman Diana is bound to protect. That’s why he’s here. This isn’t a friendly or social visit, because Diana suspects he does no such thing. Just as she suspects that Danielle has more secrets in her skull than Diana does honesty. Conviction with kill Bruce, and secrets will kill Danielle. Unless Diana can save them both.

Her face turns to steel, because it’s the only language that Bruce understands. She crosses her gauntlet-clad arms beneath her chest and is distinctly aware that her armor and lasso are on the floor above them. She won’t need them.

❛ Go home to Gotham, Batman. ❜

This will be his only warning.

‘ you don’t have the code to do what needs to be done here. ’ - Batman

              She recognizes him, but she doesn’t have to admit it. Also realizes that if he’s here, then she’s the threat and she doesn’t like that scenario ---- especially because the world’s trying to end itself (again) and her time’s kinda limited. Too limited to clash with Gotham’s most infamous flying mammal.

Her head moves a tick to the side, not enough to turn and distract herself from the key-guarded lockbox, but enough to make eye contact over her shoulder, “Is that a fact? Well, you know.” her focus turns back to the prize, entirely bypassing the the keypad by punching a dent in the brass plating - right down to the steel, “I never been good with tech.” she quips, “Too many buttons.” The museum’s alarm goes off but it doesn’t detour her, because Bat or no Bat, this weapon belongs to her. Faith pulls her arm back again and gives the box another punch and, this time, her hand goes right through the door. 

                     At this point, she’s all but forgotten the Batman is there, gripping the tear with both hands until she can wrench the warped metal open enough to reach in and slowly draw out the Scythe. She finally shoots him another sharp glance, “Whatever’s floatin’ behind that mask, right now... I wouldn’t.”

   ❝ You do not hide your boredom from your expression very well, Mr Wayne. ❞

“  i made breakfast.  ” ( erin ) @brucies​

Height comparison || @brucies

It didn't surprise her in the least to find Bruce there in her office. Her assistant had told her ahead of time that he was there and it meant she could walk into her office without being surprised. Not that it stopped her from being surprised at seeing him there. Given their history there could be a myriad of reasons as to why. Or maybe he was just trying to find out why she was in Gotham. A part of her had thought it would've been obvious. Publicly she was there to help those in Gotham who needed it. Privately, Talia was there to finish the work her father had started. There were still some things she needed to get her hands on, but even those were nothing more than formalities. All that aside, she had to admit she wasn't expecting him. One of his bats maybe, but not Bruce. "Or maybe you need some help finding whatever it is you're looking for."

@brucies || magnolia castillo starters || accepting

@brucies said: ❝  i’m so angry.  it’s always there.  but if i let it out i’m afraid i’ll never stop.  ❞

❛ you pummeling criminals with your fists all night isn't you letting your anger out? ❜ she raises an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. it's an honest question wrapped in sarcasm, but not dripping with it. maeve knows anger. knows how it festers inside your chest and starts fires. and you know what happens when you try to stomp those fires out? your chest collapses and you fucking die.

there's so many things she could say, and maybe even more things she should say. she could tell him she gets it. she could tell him he's not alone. turns out, she's not a motivational speaker, though, and she's not about to pour her heart out, either.