Zatanna Zatara performs (infishnets) wrote in rooms, @ 2015-01-17 23:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | !dc comics, *journal, *narrative, alfred pennyworth, bruce wayne, evelyn trevelyan, liam roberts, selina kyle, solas, zatanna zatara |
Narrative: Gotham, Zatanna + Bruce W + Public + Alfred P
It was the man who dreamed blood and he who had woken in it that began it. After Bruce, Bruce and his puppy and the anchor of his sadness weighting him into his home, she had returned to Shadowcrest. To the manor which smelled of dust and shadows, pregnant with memory. She had grown used to the San Fransisco apartment, to waking in the shaft of sunlight and to the cramped quarters of the loft. Now there was space and echoes but she did not remind the memories of a father that were all the more vivid among his things. The dust, that could go. Perhaps Alfred knew of someone who was not scared of old, empty places.
After the conversation abruptly terminated, she sought out the work-room. Soft silk slithered over bare skin and the air was cool on her shoulders and at her ankles as she tossed the salt, spoke the words, lit the flame that jumped unearthly green and spat from the wick. This Gotham was not her Gotham, she had not yet learned its threads to see the unusual knots but there were spells for sight, for knowing where to look.
The runes were charcoal pressed with thumb on skin, the blood spilled over wood. The flames ate the herbs and the words were long, tuneless drone as she sang herself into the place beyond the veil, the colors a miasma of another world and her body was a husk from which to step free. Gotham was a dull map of the magic-less from above with glints and glimmers, convergences in the occult shops and the back-streets where the tarot readers turned cards with more than a charlatan's tricks. And there, glowing ugly, was something that was not as it should be.
She breathed.
The flame wavered.
Her eyes closed: opened in her body and her foot scuffed the salt and broke the circle.
No, this Gotham was not alright. And there was no John to call.
[Bruce W]
What do you know of magic, here?
[Public]
[As Zatanna Z]
I seek the ones disturbed by things that are impossible.
[Alfred P]
Alfred.