This is fun actually. The other story's cannon is so somber and straightforward, so this gives me the opportunity to make something (almost), more human. Looks like I'm getting (mostly) favourable reviews. For that one anonymous someone (s)he should offer constructive criticism, because I'm so very vain. Tee hee. Thanks the the community who have enjoyed the stuff I make. You guys are keeping my spirits up.
She lays silent in her bed. It feels..off. Her meditation only makes her more aware of the formerly familiar warmth dissipating into the fibers of her sheets. It's painful to her, parts want to cry almost. She delves deeper into consciousness (chuckling at the irony of obtaining meta-awareness by abandoning conventional varieties) to escape the depressive chill of loneliness. Her leader. Her friend was gone, and Raven hated it.
Deep in the fathoms of her mind, Raven walked through rows of literature. Usually the library is empty, save for one particular emotion burning through walls of tomes trying to escape. She has most of her emotions focused into the very walls. Raven's library is held under the iron key of her concentration, not one aspect can escape, lest the library burn to the floor. The usual guard isn't even posted.
"Show yourself fear" she calls out. A single shadow curls from the wall, Raven is clad in an impenetrable veil of darkness that clouds all vision. "What are you doing here hatred?" she mutters. This one is usually hidden in the walls, passively lashing out in her mind. It seems to vibrate with laughter, a single tendril of black vapor pointing to four glowing eyes, then down a hallway. This mindscape can go on forever should it please Raven. The last man to search her mind seemed to find that it was futile. She was master here, and she was the only thing there. Save one idiot out of uniform.
Ever since their minds were joined by her empathic bond, he was able to manifest his thoughts into her dreams. It was horrid. He really couldn't lie while he was sleeping, though she was totally in control. She always avoided him in this catatonic state for the sake of his privacy. Something was different though. His manifestation was more prominent. Usually he occupied a darkened study room in the annex of the library. A single steel chair, a stool on the other side, and a giant evidence table built to be an all in one medical table, interrogation room, and evidence analyzation station. It was the only place he would venture, and it was always between the sizes of small and moderately spacious. Not this time. There was what sounded like music down the furthest hallway. Low trumpets and muffled drum lines leading to explosions of tambourines. Admittedly, her curiosity was peaked.
Raven hovered down a hallway, and down a huge rusted stairway obscured by stacks of novels, her favourite novels. Nightwing didn't want her here. Normally, she would acquiesce to his need for privacy, but she started hearing sobbing, and decided that the man needed help. She blew down the wall, and descended the stairwell. Ink and shadow began to brighten with low tones of yellow and red and green and purple. Red faced clowns stood suspended at the bottom, in perfect cheerful animation. Creepy? Yes. Deterring? not in the slightest. A carnival tent sat in a vast expanse, as if it was a shining lighthouse in a mysterious dark void. She entered.
There was a hallway, narrow and colorful and covered with adverts for "The Amazing Flying Graysons!". They were scratched and tattered, save the silhouette of the boy, who was painted red. Raven shuttered, Dick had issues. She proceeds down the hallway, which seems even longer each time she blinks. There is laughter in the air, and gunfire. She steps forward, and finds the floor is littered with shell casings and broken rope. She closes her eyes to steal calming breaths.
She is in the main tent, and there are no seats, no seating. Nightwing stood in the center of the chamber, brandishing a pen, and scribbling furiously on sheets of paper. A cut safety net hangs in tatters on the table. Raven reaches for him.
"No Rae, I didn't want you to see me like this". He's crying.
"You know we slept together last night?" she sputters, wanting to sidestep her intrusion.
He turns around and looks at her. There is a bullet in his shoulder, and every breath causes a small drop of blood to fall on his papers. Tears stroll down his eyes and down onto the files of two criminals. They read " -Deathstroke/Slade" and "Unknown-Joker". Even in nightmares, he is obsessed.
"I hadn't slept so well in years"
"You snore"
Chuckles.
"I don't know what to do anymore"
She thinks, and thinks, and thinks some more about what to say. Her emotions come out of the walls, whispering various vile and kind things. She doesn't want to follow them. Logic before feeling. Though one emotion tells her what she wants to hear. She hears clearly what her soul desires more than any one course of action.
"Come to my room, wake up and come to me"
Her heart is pounding, she is silently praying he won't remember this. A small shape in the corner of the room clad in white bounces briefly before fading back into the tapestry.
"Rae I can't get involved again. I won't hurt another teammate. You're my best friend, I don't want to lose you"
He really can't censor himself here. He is absolutely candid.
Raven steps forward, dropping her cloak to the floor and bringing her arms around his torso. She shakily wraps her arms around his broad chest, and presses her cheek to his chest. His reaction is slow but fluid. He begins shaking, then he stops, wraps his broad arms around her, and squeezes her lightly, as if he was trying to preserve the position in a mould. His hand moves down her hair, and she breathes in a scent not unlike sandalwood.
"You smell like your cologne even here, it's obnoxious"
"But I wear it because I know you like it"
Her thoughts race at a rapid pace, outrunning the simple implication of the statement. She looks up at him for a moment. His face is blank, staring fixedly at the walls of leather bound literature, no longer laughing red walls and the circus.
She awakens from her introspection in her bed. Something large and warm is pressed to her back, and a arm is constricting her midsection with the slightest pressure. Her mind is quiet. What is happening can not be good. They must discuss this. They can't let this progress. Richard was here though. He was here and his lips were pressed softly to the back of her head and his arms held her in a way that made her core warm. There was a familiarity here that she adored. The closeness that can only come with the one person she trusts with the literal hell she imprisons in her mind.
Where she can not create her own stability, he is the surrogate. Her rock. A voice rings in her head, clearly and candidly
"If you were to roll to face him his lips would be right there"
No.
The thought though burned her cheeks. A mental note sent the girl in white deep into the confines of the library. He breathed softly, warm air hitting the back of her head.
Maybe.
The voice returned in full force, against all better judgement and all restraint. This voice was clear and simple. It was not inhibited by any emotional barriers.
"You deserve him. You know how he feels and still your inability to deal with complication as adults do inhibits your happiness with the one being able to do this for you. what do you feel? Look into his emotions. LOOK!" it is speaking slowly but condescendingly. The monks of her plane of existence denied her any access to any emotional stimuli, she was a perfectly compartmentalized being. All facets of personality potentially dangerous to existence locked away in little books and hallways to never surface in the material plane. An unfeeling labyrinth of infinite ideas that occupy the emotions. She wants this though. Truly needs to affirm that this gnawing voice is right. Her conclusion is on the lips of a hypothesis, daring her to test the boundary. She dares not. She sleeps instead, the warmth of Richard Grayson lulling her mind into a euphoric trance. She thinks once more between yawns.
Yes, just not now.
I'm still trying to tweak how I present the characters and the world. Erring on the side of a slow boil rather than jumping right into lemons and juicy romance detail. I have mixed feelings about the chapter though. I just moved into my university dorm, so I haven't had much time to really sit and fine tune my work. That is me justifying this stump of a chapter. Anyway, thank you for your continued support! Please give me your (constructive) criticism and I'll see when I can add another chapter.