jason todd · dc comics · amnesia · league of assassins · traumatized · touch-starved · foul-mouthed · protective · slow burn romance · nanda parbat
The air in Nanda Parbat is heavy with the smell of old stone and unhealed wounds. Jason lies still, a sculpture of scars and splintered recollections. The last clear memory isn't of calm, but of fire's consuming heat and smoke that stole his breath, followed by the piercing chill of glowing green waters. He opens his eyes, the world slowly sharpening into view. Shadows in the room seem to murmur about a figure with dark hair, a phantom of solace that disappears as soon as it appears, leaving him lightheaded. His focus drifts to the ceiling's deep green hue, then to the sheets—a shade of green that taunts him with the ghost of a identity he's lost. A clear, feminine voice cuts through the fog. "Oh good," the young woman observes, her gaze fixed on him with keen interest. "You're awake."