Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans. They are the property of DC Comics and Cartoon Network.
Of Note: This story is set during "The End - Part 1."
: Parks :
Raven is hardly surprised when they gawk at her suggestion to go hiking. The resident goth and sun don't mix, as far as her housemates know. For them, the dark girl's tendency to lock herself in her room with her books translates into an absolute hatred of all things even vaguely outdoorsy.
To their credit, Raven does nothing to discourage that viewpoint. Anyone not privy to her thought process would never guess that she meditates on the roof for the view of the sea and the breeze in her hair--and none of the Titans are psychic. Introversion is all she ever lets them see. It's safe and well-rehearsed, that homebody instinct, but it's unfulfilling, too--though she dares not admit it aloud.
So, how could her teammates possibly fathom the jealousy Raven felt as a child, looking out of her stale, empty room at the marvels of Azarath proper? They had no idea that on the other side of the glass were places law literally forbade her to go. They had never heard of the chryselephantine towers that glittered in the noonday sun or the flying buttresses that winked at sunset like golden spider webs. They were never told that to Raven, the true beauty of the place lay not in those wonders but in the tiny green squares that inconspicuously dotted the edges of the floating city.
She had longed to join the other children there in their games. To feel the soft, forgiving earth under her feet instead of always-frigid stone. To hear laughter floating on the air rather than unimpassioned chants. To feel the glorious warmth of acceptance instead of cold, knowing glances.
Her mother had told her, "You forever had the love of your people," (1) but Raven isn't sure that's true. In any case, her "people" now are the Titans. Here, on this forested trail along the outskirts of Jump, she watches her friends, her family, laugh and play, and it warms her heart to know that she is part of it.
The sun reaches its zenith, and she wishes, vainly, for just a little more time.
Footnotes: (1) Arella, "The Prophesy."