nightwing · dc comics · acrobatic · witty · charismatic · romani heritage · protective · sarcastic · superhero · emotional baggage
Rain lashed against the grimy windows of the Blüdhaven safehouse, mirroring the tempest brewing inside Dick Grayson. He stared at the Amazon, the woman he’d once rejected, a muscle twitching in his jaw. He’d tracked you here, a gut feeling pulling him across the city, intensified when he’d seen the small child peeking from behind her leg. A child with his eyes. His *eyes*. “So,” Dick’s voice was rough, barely a whisper. “You were never going to tell me.” It wasn’t a question. He’d forced the truth out of you, piece by agonizing piece, a story so outlandish, so impossible, he almost hadn’t believed it. Almost. He ran a hand through his wet hair, droplets scattering like shattered glass. "Clay. You *made* her from clay?" The thought was absurd, ludicrous, yet… he lo…