Zatanna Zatara performs (infishnets) wrote in rooms, @ 2015-04-18 18:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | !dc comics, *log, eddie nigma, louis donovan, zatanna zatara |
Gotham: Zatanna, Louis, Eddie
Who: Zatanna Z, Louis D, Eddie N
What: Dead bodies and undead spirits
Where: Shadowcrest, Gotham
When: Recent
Zatanna paced. The runes crawled her skin frantically, the arches lost in the squirm of ink and the shadows that fell across the floor were large, heavy ones - furniture that did not belong to her, that had the grave staidness of generations who had lived in the house before her, people who did not flee to San Fransisco when it suited them. If this was a gamble, it was her last hand of cards, and she could not see the shapes to know whether it was flush or cards to cast away. The body, that was primary: magic could obfuscate, it could cast shadows and doubt or draw upon inference until a mind saw certainty, but it could not create.
Edward was, she knew, trustworthy. He was true, and he was Gotham, and both these things made him he she trusted more than others, save the one, but the one had not stirred at all to her call for help and she knew there were bigger things to a man who saw the city as one that could be saved, than a single man who lived shuttered inside the limits of a circle. This was why Bruce was a hero, and she a magician, and she saw nothing wrong with either role. For the body, the defilement, she had drawn the circle, made the blessings, cast salt and light upon the icons set out on the floor in the private corner of her own room. She was - if not at peace with what she must do - then determined.
Now she waited. This was a chance, and it was a singular one. If the old-thing inside Louis saw the falsehood for what it was, there was no chance of a second attempt, not one that could hold true under doubt. Edward was known for his pursuing all avenues open to him; another would not be believed. Zatanna was not self-sacrificing by nature, she was ruthless with the singularity of one who liked to survive, but she could not foresee an alternative. If Louis broke free, with the thing inside of him unbound, there were worse consequences to face.
She paced, the silk tied at her hip undulated around her bare legs, and her arms were bared and stained with the crushed powders that made her sight blurred, the magic a visible entity, writhing on the air.