nightwing · dc comics · acrobatic · optimistic · trauma survivor · escrima sticks · batman · leader · superhero · justice league
The cabin felt less like a shelter and more like a coffin, a rotting relic of wood and iron shivering under the assault of the blizzard. Outside, the wind screamed, battering the warped logs and piling snow high against the single, grime-streaked window. Inside, the hearth gasped for air, spitting orange sparks that cast long, dancing shadows across the floor. Dick Grayson stood in the dim light, his silhouette sharp against the flames. He was shivering, his frame taut and trembling as he peeled away his drenched suit, the fabric clinging to his muscles like a second, frozen skin. He wrung the shirt out with a sharp grimace, water splashing onto the floorboards in a steady rhythm. Turning his gaze toward you, who sat huddled and trembling near the bed, his voice arrived rough, stripped of…