#prodiga1

boots thud against wet pavement . loud , deliberate . she wants to be heard . wants to draw his intention— she always does ... the chase is the fun part and as per usual , she’s using herself as the bait . a distraction to draw him away into a game of cat and mouse that she thoroughly enjoys . “ hey , bird boy … over here ! ”

there he is . a wicked grin plays on her lips when she knows she has his attention and then she's off again ... in and out of the shadows ... disappearing , reappearing ... through backalleys , up metal ladders . a leap here and there until a good fifteen - twenty blocks later she comes to a stop ... adrenaline is coursing through her veins and her amusement is clear from the look in her eye . she could do this all day . 

@prodiga1 asked : hey! i just wanna talk.

❛❛   𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓   𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘   𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊   𝐅𝐎𝐑   𝐘𝐎𝐔,   𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐎𝐘   .ᐣ   ❜❜    The   cat's   steps   are   silent   but   the   thick   ropes   of   gold   and   pearls   around   her   neck   weren't,   softly   clicking   together   as   she   backed   away   from   the   vigilante   towards   the   edge   of   the   rooftop.   Her   hands   were   held   up   in   mock   surrender,   pilfered   precious   stones   glittering   in   stacks   on   every   finger   as   she   leveled   a   blinding   grin   at   him. 

She   wasn't   a   fool,   she   had   done   her   research   before   coming   to   this   particular   armpit   of   New   Jersey.   There   was   always   going   to   be   a   risk   of   running   into   one   of   the   capes,   but   she   hadn't   quite   anticipated   that   one   of   them   would   act   as   her   distraction   ──   engaging   with   the   henchmen   while   she   was   making   short   work   of   the   wall   safes.   Too   bad   he   seemed   to   notice   as   she   was   attempting   to   make   the   getaway.

❛❛   Don't   suppose   you'd   be   interested   in   a   raincheck   .ᐣ   ❜❜

tim likes him a lot.

that was one of the first observations helena had made about nightwing, whom she had first perceived as dick grayson because while she had met the man in the suit, she actually truly learned of him through the endless streams of ramblings of the third robin who was somehow star-struck by his own brother, but hey, it was endearing to see that tim had someone to look up to.

someone reliable. someone who could pass on the torch of hope to the younger ones.

she wasn’t there for any of the phases preceding nightwing, and it was hard to imagine in anything other than black and blue. and if nightwing was all she had known, then that’d also be the last time she ever saw him; huntress didn’t enjoy working with him, even when she put aside her biases against the bats and gave him a chance for who he himself was. where others may have admired him for his leadership, huntress on the other hand loathed being reined or undermined in any way.

that alone could’ve been the end of all this, helena could easily tell how this would end: they’d only disappoint each other if they expect the other, both equally stubborn fighters, to ever change, bend, or compromise.

getting to know dick grayson, however, the person underneath the performance, was what truly earned her faith in him, the confidence that they could stand shoulder-to-shoulder when the moment mattered.

she knew she could trust him just enough to know he would never stab her in the back, but not enough to know if he’d be there in her corner, either. his smiles were warmer than most, but she suspected she had wings sculpted made of wax. even when they disagreed fundamentally, he didn’t exactly breathe down her neck about it either.

a long shot in the dark.

larger-than-life bravado that were bigger than their mortal bodies, to make up for the young, hopeless kids they once were.

names crafted by their own will and independence.

the constant battle to not let the darkness of revenge overtake the light of hope within.

right person, wrong time — and perhaps, wrong city, too.

answered!

the  intimacy  of  hands. / @prodiga1

many drinks later , yelena achieves her goal ... sort of . while dragging her weight off the bar stool , she's not thinking about how poorly the mission went today . nope , not at all . she's definitely not thinking about everything that went wrong . replaying every moment in her mind . analysing , criticising . that only lasts so long though ... she can't shake the widow's face from her mind . the widow they lost .

she lost .

she wasn't the first but it never gets easier . her chest aches while she sways . alcohol only numbs the sharp pain into a dull ache . but next to all reflexes diminish in this state , a temporary reprieve that leaves her open as she stumbles strolls down the street . so much so that she doesn't realise he's there until she feels two strong , familiar hands wrap around her . first , he's steadying her . second , he's watching her . assessing her .

although it's nice to see him . even if she's a little ashamed . it’s always nice to see him , she thinks .

“ hi , you . ” she wrinkles her nose . her drunken smile doesn't quite reach her eyes . “ how did you know where i was ? ” it wasn't a mere coincidence . she picks this dive bar for a reason . it's usually dead and well ... a dive .

"training is on you, man. i'm winging it here."

she's not sure this thing has a non-lethal setting. it definitely wouldn't use it, if she weren't here.

not that she knowingly signed up for that role.

but she doesn't want to make that more real by saying it. if he were actually hurt, he wouldn't find the time to fuck with her. her expression grows very solemn, behind the scarab mask.