Barbara Gordon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bodilesswarrior) wrote2013-08-27 12:39 pm
bodilesswarrior) wrote2013-08-27 12:39 pm
Entry tags:
14 - Text
[Her first thought, when she wakes up, is that she feels like one of her old dolls; torn to hell and stitched up by small, awkward fingers.
Then she remembers to breathe, sucking down air in ragged, painful breathes. She counts the cracks on the ceiling, and tries not to lose herself.
She remembers, of course. She remembers it as clearly as the Joker's smile. It's not so different, really; again, she was brutalised to hurt someone else.
Except this time it's worse, because she saw the Emperor crumple and fall.
She refuses to close her eyes, because she knows what she'll find in the darkness. She focuses on the warmth of the sheets, the glare of the lights, the beating of her heart.
When she's able to lift an arm with convulsions of pain, she grabs her comm.]
Check in if you can.
[Private to Iris]
Are you okay?
[Private to the Emperor]
I'm sorry.
[Private to Creed]
You owe me glasses.
Then she remembers to breathe, sucking down air in ragged, painful breathes. She counts the cracks on the ceiling, and tries not to lose herself.
She remembers, of course. She remembers it as clearly as the Joker's smile. It's not so different, really; again, she was brutalised to hurt someone else.
Except this time it's worse, because she saw the Emperor crumple and fall.
She refuses to close her eyes, because she knows what she'll find in the darkness. She focuses on the warmth of the sheets, the glare of the lights, the beating of her heart.
When she's able to lift an arm with convulsions of pain, she grabs her comm.]
Check in if you can.
[Private to Iris]
Are you okay?
[Private to the Emperor]
I'm sorry.
[Private to Creed]
You owe me glasses.
[Private -- audio]
[It's hollow and exhausted, a thread of determined steel wound through it but it isn't enough. He tries to be big and bad but it's hard when everything aches and his stomach's sore and threatening to clench again and he can't get the taste of bile off his tongue or the scent of stale puke out of his nose or sickness off his skin and he really wishes his system would have the decency to just let him die already.
There's a growl to go with the words but it's thin and weak, not much of a serious threat at all.]
[Private -- text]
[Private -- audio]
'Cause I'm sure you're typin' 'cause you got energy in spades.
[Private -- text]
You, on the other hand? Iris can do that again any time she pleases. [She won't, Barbara knows, not just for the hell of it - but she could.]
[Private -- text]
This won't last.
[Private -- text]
[Private -- text]
[Private -- text]
[Private -- text]