Barbara Gordon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bodilesswarrior) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenace2020-02-04 05:49 pm
bodilesswarrior) wrote in maskormenace2020-02-04 05:49 pm
(no subject)
[ Trying to process the memories of a different life was difficult enough. She figured seeking out the people she'd lost there, one way or another, would help anchor her to the present, the truth of who she really was.
Instead, she's here on the network, face drawn and voice flat. She's years younger than her counterpart, and her hair is longer, but the look in her eyes right now isn't that different. ]
Cassandra Wayne and Stephanie Brown have gone home.
[ It's easier to say than disappeared, even if it's all much the same, at least for her. Cass is going back to a world where she's alone, drowning in grief and trauma and guilt. Stephanie, at least, has a version of Barbara who's there for her.
But when she's pulled back home herself, she'll forget that. She'll just believe that Stephanie died because she hadn't been looking. ]
If you were close with them, then - let me know what you need. Stephanie was - is - a friend. A protege. [ Family, but she can't explain that without giving away too much - for Stephanie's sake, if nothing else. Her own identity has been pretty badly compromised by whatever the hell that trip really was.
She takes a steadying breath. She needs to say this, needs to get it out. She can't let herself bury it, like that other Barbara did. ]
When I first met Cassandra, she didn't have a name. She didn't have anything, really, aside from a drive to help people. [ And in that other world, that drive was poisoned and warped. She was a weapon again.
Out of sight,, her fists clench, and it takes her a moment to shove down desperate rage. Whether it was just an illusion or another life they'd inhabited for a while, there's nothing she can do about it right now. ]
I gave her a first name. Bruce gave her a second. He's very much her father, but she's also...
[ Her voice catches, and her eyes sting. She hasn't really said it, not in so many words, not when she was herself. ]
She's my daughter.
And she's gone.
[ She ends the transmission. ]
Instead, she's here on the network, face drawn and voice flat. She's years younger than her counterpart, and her hair is longer, but the look in her eyes right now isn't that different. ]
Cassandra Wayne and Stephanie Brown have gone home.
[ It's easier to say than disappeared, even if it's all much the same, at least for her. Cass is going back to a world where she's alone, drowning in grief and trauma and guilt. Stephanie, at least, has a version of Barbara who's there for her.
But when she's pulled back home herself, she'll forget that. She'll just believe that Stephanie died because she hadn't been looking. ]
If you were close with them, then - let me know what you need. Stephanie was - is - a friend. A protege. [ Family, but she can't explain that without giving away too much - for Stephanie's sake, if nothing else. Her own identity has been pretty badly compromised by whatever the hell that trip really was.
She takes a steadying breath. She needs to say this, needs to get it out. She can't let herself bury it, like that other Barbara did. ]
When I first met Cassandra, she didn't have a name. She didn't have anything, really, aside from a drive to help people. [ And in that other world, that drive was poisoned and warped. She was a weapon again.
Out of sight,, her fists clench, and it takes her a moment to shove down desperate rage. Whether it was just an illusion or another life they'd inhabited for a while, there's nothing she can do about it right now. ]
I gave her a first name. Bruce gave her a second. He's very much her father, but she's also...
[ Her voice catches, and her eyes sting. She hasn't really said it, not in so many words, not when she was herself. ]
She's my daughter.
And she's gone.
[ She ends the transmission. ]
Text;
Wanna go get blitzed? I’m buying.
Text;
[ She doesn't drink, generally. Bad memories, bad strategy. But this could also be an opportunity, if she plays her cards right.
If it can make her forget feeling so helpless, then all the better. ]
Got a place in mind?
Text;
I know a place. They’ll even light your drinks on fire and juggle bottles if you you bat your eyes real nice.
I’ll pick you up.
Relax before you even get any ideas. I’m not stealing some randos car. I’ll get whatever passes for an Uber here.
Re: Text;
[ It seems so small right now. ]
But I appreciate it.
Text;
I'll see you in an hour.