birds singing in the sycamore tree

[baedalites]

As night falls on Baedal, the city is almost quiet. The streets have a few last minute workers returning home, but by now, most citizens have already gone by the temples and picked up their vurt, ready to lay down and dream.

After placing a not-feather in one's mouth, there's a moment where it fizzes against the tongue before sliding coolly down the back of the throat and pulling the user down into sleep. A series of impressions, more sensation than anything concrete, appears before the user and this is how one chooses which Dreamer to enter.

Comments

[bodilesswarrior]

"You know his actions. That counts for a lot, good and bad."

She can imagine the context, and Barbara squeezes her hand as she says, "He was a damn good Robin, and so were you."

[controlledvariable]

"I read the file," It had seemed like so little when Jason had turned up on her doorstep. She's so grateful Hermione was there, Steph probably would have slammed the door in his face, otherwise.

"Thanks," The colours of her dress brighten a little, more the proper Robin colours now, rather than a muted version. "I wish --" A lot of things, but none of them help anyone and she's not even sure if she can pinpoint a single thing. So she just shrugs it off.

[bodilesswarrior]

"I'm sure it was objective." Coldly, mercilessly objective, if it was one of Bruce's. If it was one of hers...she doesn't know. She's still having a hard time comprehending her future actions, or lack of them.

With a soft, sad smile, "Me too."

[controlledvariable]

The way Steph's mouth twists into a painful, rueful smile should confirm that. It read like Jason was just another supervillain of the week, not someone who Bruce had once called son.

She sighs and lets herself float a little more horizontal, looking up at the stars, "This got depressing."

Steph is nothing if not blunt.