Send me a ‘✉’ for five times my muse didn’t text yours, and one time they did.
@flightlessgothamite
Claire Macky is staring at her again. Stupid bitch.
She see’s her there lurking just out of eye’s corner, WATCHING with that gaze of frosty-blue, and it’s almost impressive how one girl could make a look seem sweet and warm for one person; and absolutely cutting the next. But River doesn’t need to meet those eyes in order to gauge which look is being sent her way, for their intensity runs heavy off of her back and skin, and it nearly makes the teen smirk. Given they were currently smack-dab in the heat of Shakespeare, little Miss Claire could almost have made for an ‘okay’ assassin herself with all of her successful ‘stealth-staring’… Or Ms. Hoff was severely lacking in paying her students any mind.
Oh well.
River damn-well won’t give the eyeballing harpy the satisfaction that she craves, and she KNOWS what this is about. How desperate does one have to be to ‘creep’ in the middle of class just for some ‘sweet deets’? Claire STARVES for her to text him in view, and if she thinks her stupid enough to fuel whatever gossip vine she wishes to tend amongst her fellow ‘social vipers’, well… Fat chance.
The text stays unfinished in her phone for the remainder of the sonnet.
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Night reigns over Gotham… The cold, it’s stalwart ‘queen’.
The ‘queen’ has come home tonight, for the winds of autumn blow true; and with them, the encroaching ‘threat’ of winter’s terrible bite is carried like a blanketing wave over the masses below. Scant few roam the winding walkways of Gotham tonight, most opting to remain safe and snug in whatever shelter they’ve managed to scrounge-up… All except one, it seems. There perched upon one of the city’s many fire-escapes, a scarlet-cheeked figure sat against the cold like a wall. Brow furrowed, and with fingers flying across small keys in some fervid attempt to send a final message out before it’s ‘too late’.
Maybe she shouldn’t have looked so ‘eager’ in her endeavor.
“Whatcha’ doin’ out here for, ‘Babs’?” calls a voice from behind, all cruel jeer masked by lilting curiosity, and it’s trashy manner of speech and sickening fake ‘sweetness’ births a cold pit in her stomach. Startled, the teen’s hold upon the cell phone slips and fails; and River watches silently, helplessly, as the darkness and ground below swallow her chance at having something ‘normal’. Green eyes raise, blankly staring into the laughing face of her jackal-‘sister’.
And the girl grows colder.
———————————————————–
Pain is no stranger to Riversong… She LIVES it. And as far as she knows, she’ll continue to live it until the day that the good Grim Reaper finally comes collecting. Death and no small amount of depravity, such was the world she was pulled kicking and screaming into… Luck of the draw. She can’t complain. ‘SHE’ wouldn’t complain, and in order to make Her proud, she too will do the same.
‘So weather it… Goddammit River, weather it.’
It’s what she tries to tell herself as she slumps against the wall, biting-back that stinging pinprick of tears as her arm continues to bleed-out onto the floor… A stupid mistake she will not make again.
Yet her mind wanders from the feeling of open wounds and tear-stained eyes to a heaviness in her pocket; because it’s so hard sometimes, to DO this. It hurts in ways kids in which shouldn’t ever have to hurt, and as tough as she wants to appear on the outside, her insides twist in fear- There’s such temptation there, thought to text Oswald and beg ask him to send help. He’d do it for her, he’s her friend, right…? She doesn’t want to die here in the the dark, but rapid footsteps fall in succession behind her, forcing wide eyes to glance-up feral; and instead of a phone, a hand reaches for the hilt of a knife stained red. Time’s-up.
Her ‘job’ isn’t over yet.
———————————————————–
Is this what it feels like? Soft sheets bunched underneath a lazy back, and a radiant smile cast upon the message display across the small screen God, she hasn’t smiled like this since-… Since Micah was still alive. But at the same time, it’s so different from her brother, this feeling of airy elatedness and excitement. She seen the expression on other kids and other adults, but never before has it ever welled-up within her: this HAS to be what ‘friendship’ feels like. It’s nice. It’s really, really nice; and River wonders how she’s ever lived without experiencing such a thing. Why hasn’t She told her how nice it is?
He wants to go to the zoo, to see the new penguin exhibit before they go to school… Probably because she’s missed so much class-time due to her little ‘accident’ while working. It’s funny to think about, for Oswald Cobblepot is a perpetual worry-wart, and River can just imagine the knitted brow and anxious concern mixed within eyes of blue. But it’s an amusement that dies as quick as it was conceived…Why should he feel otherwise? He thinks she’s a ‘normal’ kid after all, why shouldn’t he feel a need to worry?
Maybe… Just maybe, she could tell him and ONLY him. A secret kept close and tight between them, it should be okay if it’s only him. Right…? Her heart thuds heavy in her chest, even as her fingers move to type her acceptance of the invitation.
Footfalls. Heeled boots gliding across a smooth surface, and by the confidence heard in that gait, there’s no mistake as to who’s legs those feet belonged to; and a sudden realization turns those excited butterflies into sick dread.
No… No, She CAN’T find out about him.
She’s here, her grandmother is here, and if she discovers Oswald’s existence-… The phone is haphazardly tossed under the pillow, so fast River doesn’t realize she’s committing a TREASON against the most important person in her life… The most ‘dangerous’. There’s no need for Rena Locke to even open her mouth when she towers above her. There’s no ‘love’ in those eyes or concern for bandaged wounds; because all it takes is a minute’s fixation from that gaze of stone to get her ‘point’ across, and make River shrink atop that bed. It’s a look the teen knows all-too well, and though it hurts, though it strangles her chest and throat, there is no choice. Disobedience is never an option.
‘…I’m sorry, Oz.’
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She doesn’t show-up for school that day… She doesn’t show-up for the next day, either.
Or the day after that.
Nor the day after that…
She doesn’t show-up again, until 15 years have come and passed.
———————————————————–
- Friday, 8:30AM. Present Day.-
[Text: Shortstack]: Oswald just take a look outside already! The SUN is out how many times can you say you’ve seen the sun in Gotham, it’s a perfect time to go out dear!
[Text: Shortstack]: So I was wondering……….
[Text: Shortstack]: ….Wanna go see the penguins? (｡◕‿‿◕｡)
Oh please, does he even REMEMBER who he’s talking to? Of course she’s ‘planned’ five LEAPS ahead for this; and to prove it, River all but scrambles to the back of the car to produce Oswald’s intended festive garb.
“Here, dear!” The ears and tail are gleefully shoved into his hands, “Put these on and try to act cute, no one can resist the Pokerminz or whatever from what I’ve heard... We’re going to SCORE BIG this year with this!.”
From who knows where, he produces a very large, very greasy onion ring. He even goes so far as to get down on one knee before loudly saying, "Miss Riversong Locke, will you marry me?"
@flightlessgothamite
“I-...” WHAT in tar-flippin-nations has gotten into him tonight?! Obviously a whole keg-load of the ‘good stuff’, because she has no idea what else would drive him to act like this.
“Um-… Hey, Oz?” River coughs, a bit pink-cheeked, because not only was everyone in the vicinity staring now, but she’s pretty sure he’s not going to be able to get-up again with that bad knee of his, “You, uh-you DO know that Tobias isn’t going to be happy with you doing this, even if you’re ‘playing’, right…? Your ‘revenge plots’ against him are getting rather elaborate, darling.”
Oh, but she still takes that scrumptious ‘engagement ring’ and dons it, licking her lips all the while as she stares down at it sparkling greasily upon her finger.
➓ What were some of the most frustrating moments you had with your muse’s interaction with another muse?
Any time Jim interacts with (a) Cobblepot he becomes so incredibly bitchy in my head. I’ve tried so often to get him to get along with Oswald, but he just won’t have it. It’s a little easier in AU-settings, but not much. Even (or especially) when Oswald is nice to him and brings him presents for Emily or Lee. Jim goes into over-protective mode every single time and doesn’t want him around.
➋ Have you ever roleplayed with someone that just left an unforgettable impression on you?
Yes, more people than I can count. Let me narrow it down to this fandom/blog, the two people who have and continue to amaze me are @harveybullockgcpd and @flightlessgothamite. Because I have seen them write other characters as well and they’ve both completely blown my mind with how much in character they stay no matter which blog they are on. Whether it’s Bullock, Eddie or Don Maroni, every thread with them makes you believe it’s actually a different writer behind the muses because how the hell do you do that? The two of you are two of the most talented writers I have ever met and I am so proud to call both of you my friends.
