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I continue posting the fics I wrote for last year's Cass Week!
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I went out because I felt so removed from the world I could’ve screamed.
Everything has been disconnected; I've begun recruiting informants, but it's painfully 19th century. I still don't know where my dad is, or if he's alive.
The cold’s merciless, but the sky’s beautiful. Clear blue like Gotham hasn’t seen since they erected her first factory.
Outside, a noise put me on guard. A young, petite girl, wearing a short-sleeved shirt; scavenging through the trash, a month late to find anything there.
"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice hoarse. Instead of replying, she observed me for so long it became unnerving.
Then she offered me a half-eaten sandwitch.
For a second, all I felt was revulsion. She looked down, ashamed.
I'm the one who should feel shame. Thinking of all the cans of beans in my cupboards, I extended my hand; she gave me the food, hesitant until I took a bite.
I asked her to follow me to the clocktower. I don't think she understands me, but now she’ll have a coat; a pair of boots from two sizes ago; the gloves I started knitting for Sarah, before… before.
With her here I feel less alone.
Title: oracle's log: day 43 of no man's land.
Fandom: DC comics (Batman: No Man's Land).
Character/Pairing: Barbara Gordon & Cassandra Cain.
Rating/Warnings: T, none. Journal entry / first person.
Summary: Cass Cain Week, Day II: Alone | Together.
Word count: 200.
read more
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I went out because I felt so removed from the world I could’ve screamed.
Everything has been disconnected; I've begun recruiting informants, but it's painfully 19th century. I still don't know where my dad is, or if he's alive.
The cold’s merciless, but the sky’s beautiful. Clear blue like Gotham hasn’t seen since they erected her first factory.
Outside, a noise put me on guard. A young, petite girl, wearing a short-sleeved shirt; scavenging through the trash, a month late to find anything there.
"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice hoarse. Instead of replying, she observed me for so long it became unnerving.
Then she offered me a half-eaten sandwitch.
For a second, all I felt was revulsion. She looked down, ashamed.
I'm the one who should feel shame. Thinking of all the cans of beans in my cupboards, I extended my hand; she gave me the food, hesitant until I took a bite.
I asked her to follow me to the clocktower. I don't think she understands me, but now she’ll have a coat; a pair of boots from two sizes ago; the gloves I started knitting for Sarah, before… before.
With her here I feel less alone.
