#flightlessgothamite

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Night reigns over Gotham… The cold, it’s stalwart ‘queen’.

The ‘queen’ has come home tonight, for the winds of autumn blow true; and with them, the encroaching ‘threat’ of winter’s terrible bite is carried like a blanketing wave over the masses below. Scant few roam the winding walkways of Gotham tonight, most opting to remain safe and snug in whatever shelter they’ve managed to scrounge-up… All except one, it seems. There perched upon one of the city’s many fire-escapes, a scarlet-cheeked figure sat against the cold like a wall. Brow furrowed, and with fingers flying across small keys in some fervid attempt to send a final message out before it’s ‘too late’.

Maybe she shouldn’t have looked so ‘eager’ in her endeavor.

“Whatcha’ doin’ out here for, ‘Babs’?” calls a voice from behind, all cruel jeer masked by lilting curiosity, and it’s trashy manner of speech and sickening fake ‘sweetness’ births a cold pit in her stomach. Startled, the teen’s hold upon the cell phone slips and fails; and River watches silently, helplessly, as the darkness and ground below swallow her chance at having something ‘normal’. Green eyes raise, blankly staring into the laughing face of her jackal-‘sister’.

And the girl grows colder.

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Pain is no stranger to Riversong… She LIVES it. And as far as she knows, she’ll continue to live it until the day that the good Grim Reaper finally comes collecting. Death and no small amount of depravity, such was the world she was pulled kicking and screaming into… Luck of the draw. She can’t complain. ‘SHE’ wouldn’t complain, and in order to make Her proud, she too will do the same.

‘So weather it… Goddammit River, weather it.’

It’s what she tries to tell herself as she slumps against the wall, biting-back that stinging pinprick of tears as her arm continues to bleed-out onto the floor… A stupid mistake she will not make again.

Yet her mind wanders from the feeling of open wounds and tear-stained eyes to a heaviness in her pocket; because it’s so hard sometimes, to DO this. It hurts in ways kids in which shouldn’t ever have to hurt, and as tough as she wants to appear on the outside, her insides twist in fear- There’s such temptation there, thought to text Oswald and beg ask him to send help. He’d do it for her, he’s her friend, right…? She doesn’t want to die here in the the dark, but rapid footsteps fall in succession behind her, forcing wide eyes to glance-up feral; and instead of a phone, a hand reaches for the hilt of a knife stained red. Time’s-up.

Her ‘job’ isn’t over yet.

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Is this what it feels like? Soft sheets bunched underneath a lazy back, and a radiant smile cast upon the message display across the small screen God, she hasn’t smiled like this since-… Since Micah was still alive. But at the same time, it’s so different from her brother, this feeling of airy elatedness and excitement. She seen the expression on other kids and other adults, but never before has it ever welled-up within her: this HAS to be what ‘friendship’ feels like. It’s nice. It’s really, really nice; and River wonders how she’s ever lived without experiencing such a thing. Why hasn’t She told her how nice it is?

He wants to go to the zoo, to see the new penguin exhibit before they go to school… Probably because she’s missed so much class-time due to her little ‘accident’ while working. It’s funny to think about, for Oswald Cobblepot is a perpetual worry-wart, and River can just imagine the knitted brow and anxious concern mixed within eyes of blue. But it’s an amusement that dies as quick as it was conceived…Why should he feel otherwise? He thinks she’s a ‘normal’ kid after all, why shouldn’t he feel a need to worry? 

Maybe… Just maybe, she could tell him and ONLY him. A secret kept close and tight between them, it should be okay if it’s only him. Right…? Her heart thuds heavy in her chest, even as her fingers move to type her acceptance of the invitation.

Footfalls. Heeled boots gliding across a smooth surface, and by the confidence heard in that gait, there’s no mistake as to who’s legs those feet belonged to; and a sudden realization turns those excited butterflies into sick dread.

No… No, She CAN’T find out about him.

She’s here, her grandmother is here, and if she discovers Oswald’s existence-… The phone is haphazardly tossed under the pillow, so fast River doesn’t realize she’s committing a TREASON against the most important person in her life… The most ‘dangerous’. There’s no need for Rena Locke to even open her mouth when she towers above her. There’s no ‘love’ in those eyes or concern for bandaged wounds; because all it takes is a minute’s fixation from that gaze of stone to get her ‘point’ across, and make River shrink atop that bed. It’s a look the teen knows all-too well, and though it hurts, though it strangles her chest and throat, there is no choice. Disobedience is never an option.

‘…I’m sorry, Oz.’

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She doesn’t show-up for school that day… She doesn’t show-up for the next day, either.

Or the day after that.

Nor the day after that…

She doesn’t show-up again, until 15 years have come and passed.

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- Friday, 8:30AM. Present Day.-

[Text: Shortstack]: Oswald just take a look outside already! The SUN is out how many times can you say you’ve seen the sun in Gotham, it’s a perfect time to go out dear!

[Text: Shortstack]: So I was wondering……….