#khronika

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐒  𝐈𝐍𝐁𝐎𝐗  𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍 ↳↳  currently  not  accepting  →  @noirsteel  /  @khronika

so  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?

he  could  still  smell  the  rot.  food  well  past  preservation  hurtled  at  him  from  a  safe  distance  where  his  teeth  couldn't  snap  or  bite  at  hands  that  touched  and  groped  and  laughter  that  still  rang  in  his  ears.  humiliation  tasted  a  lot  like  blood.  rancid  and  metalic.  it  coiled  within  his  stomach,  acidic  and  festering  until  he  felt  sick.  bloated  and  nausous.  trapping  him  in  the  stocks  had  cost  jasper  and  horace.  chunks  of  flesh  torn  and  chewed  out  of  horace's  arm  while  jasper  would  be  walking  with  a  permenant  limp  after  harry  had  taken  out  his  knee  before  the  stocks  had  closed  down  around  his  ears,  but  the  retaliation  wasn't  enough.

          abandoned  by  his  father  for  two  days  and  two  nights.  powerless  to  defend  himself  against  his  enemies  that  had  come  for  him,  eager  to  take  advantage  of  his  weakened  and  vulnerable  state.  the  open  wounds  around  the  back  of  his  ears,  sides  of  his  neck,  and  wrists  had  scabbed  over  since  his  release  but  they  still  weeped  with  blood  when  he  rubbed  or  picked  at  the  hardened  blood  and  torn  skin.

          harry  picked  at  his  wrists  as  the  smell  of  juno's  stew  filled  the  small  room.  his  stomach  tightened  with  hunger,  his  throat  parched  from  lack  of  water.  juno  spoke  and  harry's  upper  lip  curled  back  into  a  soundless  snarl  as  he  lifted  his  pale  gaze  to  meet  his  eye.  his  fear  and  his  shame,  his  hunger  and  his  thirst,  it  all  paled  in  comparison  to  his  rage.  it  burned  through  him  like  a  wildfire  and  it  showed  in  his  piercing  glare.

the moon was hanging dry , &. cut in half ; bleeding glimmers of pearls as it feebly tried to catch a neglectful city's attention before the dark , swollen clouds raced to draw their curtains over the uninspiring spectacle . pedestrians were too busy with the street performers or with their eyes glued to window shopping . no wonder those moribund feet have been dragging themselves along the sidewalks for nearly forty minutes , agonizingly hauling the dead body with squandered care in that concrete jungle [ DISPOSSESSED OF HIS OWN REGARD FOR HIMSELF &. ANY FOREIGN CURIOSITY FROM THOSE WHO SIMPLY REFUSED TO YANK THEIR ATTENTION AWAY FROM THEIR OWN SELF-CONSUMPTION ENCASED BY THE BLINDING LIGHTS &. STUNNED BY THE CONSTANT WAILS OF AN ENDLESS TRAIL OF MOTIONLESS TRAFFIC AT RUSH HOUR ] . his body caves in to the sharp pain on his ankles , fiddling with his nerves &. biting down to the bones . he leans against the bricked wall right when he was about to reach the crosswalk , his chest hysterically desperate to devour some fresh air rather than being force-fed all the heavy fog wherever he walked . while trying to ease the pain before resuming his course , he watches as the cars move aside as if they were ants drawing a path when sirens started to roar louder the closer they came . the crew of firetrucks &. police cars were rushing up the street he had walked down from , quite possibly heading to THE WEBSTER HALL to put out an unfortunate outcome of " inadequate wiring " . it was only when he turned his head to look back ahead that he noticed a familiar car &. a more familiar face peeking at him from the inside . john does not rush , the weariness of his muscles would barely allow him to &. it was not in his nature to act enthusiastic . instead , he slowly limps to the vehicle . opening the door &. sliding inside should be enough of an answer to accept the ride . just as his back leans on the comfortable seat , his eyes close . relieved .

' this whole scheme of yours is certifiable, bruce. but . . . at this point i don't really know what else i was expecting. if you're really going to do this then we'd best make it believable. ' ---- 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝙰𝙻𝙵𝚁𝙴𝙳 ( on matches malone ) / @khronika

IT was never truly thought out , the need for matches BORNE out of a death gone so wrong. it awoke something within bruce , the idea of FAMILY killing FAMILY , he had followed the MALONE brothers as batman - saw their brilliance , and downfalls. that night when he came upon them both . . . as they ended their lives.

he faces bathroom mirror as dye and gloves sat upon countertop of sink. knowing that he cannot truly delve into matches , and expect to dye hair each night. ' do you think i can do it ' the words muttered as shoulders carry a weight , words set with determination. bruce already making up mind to start yet another aspect of self. ' alfred , the hatred i felt that night ' eyes avoid as FINGERS grip marble sides of WIDE LIPPED sink. ' they were brothers , and they killed one another ' disbelief and awe accents words. eyes widen as he looks down at drain.

i already know where to start , it starts with the drifter. getting out there each night to OBSERVE the criminal underworld. alfred's right , i'll need more time to pass. the news of the brother's death would UNNERVE some , and be a grab for power that i cannot handle. it's easy being anyone but me - even now in this skin it feels FOREIGN as i ACHE to rake nails over skin and get rid of what feels like a RASH. the knowledge that i am BRUCE WAYNE. i know what some think , and i know that this is the ONLY work that feels real. that keeps me from falling into the abyss and allowing rage to take over.

ㅤ❝ 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 . . . ❞ it's hushed, something shared in quiet to ensure these words are meant for only the two. hands well placed at his waist, digits clawing briefly at the fabric there before falling to his side in EXASPERATION. there's a needed breath taken between words, gaze taking to a pattern between the screen to the side & the ex agent before him. ❝ that you should not even be here. ❞ there's no intention of harshness behind his words, rather that of scolding.

❝ your being here not only endangers you, but puts my job on the line. ❞ it comes as a reminder to both alfred & himself, yet here he is [ . . . ] unmoving from the risk. chest draped in soft fabrics expands, guiding q to a slouch upon exhale, soon coming to cave. ❝ . . . if i do this for you, 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠. ❞