A BOX DRIPPING RED "little birds will always be easy preys"
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
i. (jason todd)
LITTLE BIRDS KNOW all the secrets —and out of them all, robins are the ones who know the darkest ones.
Dark wood, books older than time and statues whose eyes seem to have witnessed the fall of empires. The little bird with his red hoodie stood in the corridor, no light in the end —only darkness.
Wayne Manor was the kind of place Jason would expect to be haunted, but truth be told the only ghost in there was Bruce Wayne. He was a tormented soul hidden behind Lamborghini and Massimo Dutti, but there was much more than that.
Like I said, robins know all the dark secrets —and Bruce Wayne had a pretty dark one.
He saw him once with the suit, wounded and still standing, unbreakable; and Jason had wanted to be a hero, just like him.
He should have known better.
Bruce was cynical toward him after that, he didn't want a kid running around after him believing to be unstoppable —he had enough scars to show he was not unbreakable— but in some rare occasions he found himself wanting Jason to chase him, as foolish as that was.
Sometimes Jason had seen it —when he picked the lock to his office, when he hacked the tv to let him see all the channels, when he passed through his security system almost unnoticed, when he pickpocketed Alfred —he had seen the recognition of potential in Bruce's eyes.
He longed for that kind of affection.
One time, he had climbed the facade of the Manor and looked at the view in front of him with fascination —this was Gotham, this was his city— and when he looked down he had caught Bruce glancing at him, a conflicted smile on his lips.
"Be careful on your way down." Those were the first words directed to him he had heard in weeks —he usually remained silent after the suit incident except when Sara was around.
The weeks at Wayne's had easily become months, and soon enough he found himself knowing the corridors like the back of his hand. Sara visited almost daily —when her job let her— she complained about taxes and plastic plants and made a mess of Jason's hair every time she saw him —it was crazy how fast the boy had found a place in her thoughts.
The other adult in his life —the most responsible— was Alfred Pennyworth, he was the voice of reason children usually tend to ignore. "All I'm saying, Master Jason, is that you should be studying at school, you need to get a proper education."
"I have to agree with Alfred." Said Bruce trying not to frown when he sat down. He seemed to be in pain, as if he had been wounded —Jason knew he was.
