#guiltspelled

It had been over three years he’d been gone from Gotham. The city he’d grown up in, defended, fought to clean up ... it had fallen back into the trash it’d been when he started.

He should have known. But he’d been at this for decades, so long, he needed the break, needed to leave. Distance himself from people he knew, loved, trusted ... people he didn’t trust. There were far more of those anyhow.

There were few familiar faces in the city now. Grayson had his own team to work with, Alfred had passed years before, and a new bat was on the scene. Batwoman.

So he’d gone to a place he knew a face.

       rosa has been gone for almost three months. she left gotham and she left everyone behind. a quick break — you might say but the truth is far, far deeper than a selfish runaway. some people, however, had been informed about the disappearance right before it occurred. one of those people was —

       ‘ zee, missed me ? ‘ hip bone pushed forward, leaning against the door frame. ‘ i brought some chinese food. ‘ two white paper bags swing in a grip of her hand. oily spots have already covered her fingertips. she’ll lick it off later. 

he smelled a strong scent. women’s perfume. he has never felt such thing before. his nostrils widened. ‘ what are you wearing, ma’am ? ‘ the loud music mutes his deep tone of voice. his eyes still hidden.

     ❛     he  ‘  s   a   myth   that   i   HAVE   TO   BELIEVE   IN ,   all   i   need   to   make   it   real   is    ONE   MORE   REASON .   i   don  ‘  t   know   what   to   do .    ❜  

♫  𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚝  -  𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚘𝚗  𝚙𝚝  𝟸

‘                Wait he said   WHAT   ?                 ’                    she asks ,  her voice  r i s i n g  as she immediately sits up from her previously  slouched  position on the couch .  The glass of wine in her hand almost  spilling  with the sudden movement as she turns her full attention to the other woman .

         ❛ if i tell you where to get the magical tacos, i can’t bribe you with them anymore. ❜

    battle scars have become essential -- if she’s not getting hurt, she’s not accomplishing her mission. no scars easily equals into suspicion that her mission wouldn’t be over. the gash over her shoulder stings like hell, her back arching a little to ‘push’ away the pain while she’s getting her bandages together. however, her senses picked up; eyes lift to foot steps. she didn’t have any visitors coming, her inner circle of trust was tremendously small. at the right moment, she reached for a dagger that was settled before her on her work table, a sharp flick of her body and wrist as she throws the dagger quickly, next to the person as a warning,  “  who the hell are you?  ”