Relying on Blind Hope

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Ravenbelle

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Fine being both passive and aggressive. i suppose it depends on the story, though i usually tend to swing passive.
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Medievel, detective stories
#1
She tumbled out of the wall of a flower shop, disoriented, lost and kneeling on the edge of a curb, just lucky enough not to land in the middle of traffic. The young woman gasped, scrambled barely back to her feet and immediately smacked into the brick wall next to the door. She cried out loudly when she bounced off, then frantically began to dig.

The people around her were struck with a sudden panic, some having begun to run away, the others, those closest to her, were hyperventilating and dizzily falling to the ground. One woman had a dog that had started whining and cowering beside its shaking owner.
Her hands surrounded by white energy, the bricks in front of her were engulfed in white as they were flung from the wall as swiftly as she could move them out of the way, some of which crashed through nearby shop windows, grazed parking meters or clattered into the road behind her. She screamed as the bricks ran out and left a hole into the flower shop
"No!! You are NOT Leaving me Behind! No!" Her fists pounded into the plaster over and over, dust clouds falling from the wall and causing the girl to cough as tears started streaming down her face.
She felt like she couldn't breathe. She had forgotten her father's lessons in self-control, her mother's calming exercises, all of the promises she had made to never let herself hurt anyone just because she was hurting. Yet here she was. Just a kid who had gotten home from school to meet the end of the world, now with new rips in her jeans and holes in her t-shirt where her injuries dotted the fabric with blood.

She had no idea what to do. No idea where she was or why or how to go back. She was shaking now, knowing that her mother had stopped time. So there was still time to do something! She had to do something! Her blows to the wall grow weaker as her sobs got louder. "Mo-om" her weak voice cracked as her knees collapsed beneath her. Her already bloody knees left small red patches under her kneecaps as she kept trying and failing to think of a spell, incantation, Anything to get her home. She was still unaware of her surroundings or why everything smelled like flowers, but she didn't care. As far as she was concerned, Hope was all alone and desperately wanted to help her family or die with them.

A block away on either side of the unfortunate flower shop, things seemed as normal as ever in Gotham. Any news van drivers that tried to drive into the area had to pull over in order to try and catch their breath, feeling desperate and terrified without knowing why. The small, pale girl covered in burns, scrapes and bruises still faced the broken brick wall before her, lost in her own mind and gaspingtrembling with crackling energy radiating from her.
 
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mr_pibbs

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#2
Although it had been a relatively quiet night thus far, Richard Wayne knew he had to remain vigilant. This was Gotham, after all. The same city where psychopathic clowns roamed the streets spraying people with poisoned laughing gas, people could wield the powers of nature and ice like they were squirting a bottle of ketchup, not to mention the actual criminal who thought using condiments was the ultimate weapon; it was nuts. Especially with Bruce out of town with the League until god knows when.

But, just because he was out on patrol didn't mean he couldn't enjoy a little dinner. In fact, if he skipped another meal, he knew he'd never hear the end of it from Alfred.

At the time when a sudden explosive sound echoed out from the city streets below as a young girl practically flew out of a flower shop's wall, Richard was half-way through a burrito, his mouth full with the delicious stuffings, preventing him from properly vocalizing his shock. Swallowing his food as quickly as he could, Richard quickly wrapped up the rest of his dinner and tucked it away in one of the larger compartments on his utility belt, praying that it wouldn't get crushed. With everything fully secured, he jumped off the roof, throwing his cape open to ensure a slowed descent as he neared the ground where the young woman now knelt, seemingly in anguish.

As he landed, Richard rolled briefly to keep up his momentum, slamming a gloved-fist onto the pavement once he was upright again to stop himself. Had it not been for the heavily fortified armor on his gauntlets, Richard may have broken nearly every finger in his hand with that punch. Thanks, Mr. Fox., he thought as he stood.

Glancing over at the weeping young woman, Robin gazed around at the passers-by, his eyebrows raising with surprise. None of them seemed to care. Usually, loud noises in the middle of Gotham meant that one of the dozens of crime lords had decided to try and catch the attention of Batman or any of the other vigilantes, causing wide-spread panic and chaos. But this... This was different. It was strange, but Richard could have sworn that they were all under some kind of spell. He felt a slight tingling in his head, perhaps related to the strange behavior of the others, but forced it out as best as he could. He needed to focus.

Turning his attentions back to the weeping girl, cautiously, he approached her. As he moved, Richard lowered his hands so they hovered close to his holstered bo-staff in case things got physical. "Ma'am? Are you alright? Do you need some assistance?"
 
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Ravenbelle

An Artist of Words
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Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
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One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
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Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Fine being both passive and aggressive. i suppose it depends on the story, though i usually tend to swing passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern fantasy, Romance, Sci-fi, Hurt/Comfort, Horror,
Genre You DON'T Like
Medievel, detective stories
#3
A voice cut through the chaos, closer than any of the others and somehow.. familiar. Hope gasped, unmoving and startled and suddenly aware of the matching emotions of those around her. "Oh gods not again.." she mumbled, hands shaking with white sparks as she tried and failed to calm herself down. It was always a vicious cycle between her and her victims, scared because she was scared and amplifying her own emotions back at her. But somehow the male who spoke was fighting it off. How? Where had he come from?
She had too many questions ad not enough space in her head. And being aware of all of this only made it harder to breathe.


The frozen citizens in the vicinity gasped in unison with Hope, still shaking. Some of them began to hyperventilate while the birds avoided this block on Gotham's streets and everything remained eerily still.

A strangled whimper made it past her throat as she tried to mouth a calming mantra, but none of the words came out.
 

mr_pibbs

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#4
Robin carefully approached the sobbing girl as she continued to shake wildly. It seemed that her emotions were causing some kind of chain-reaction with the crowd, as the passersby began to hyperventilate almost as much as she did. Not just people; but birds, and seemingly, the cars too. It was something Robin had never seen before, and honestly; something he hoped to never see again.

But he continued on his path, feeling the tingle in his head growing stronger as time passed. "A-Are... Are...." he mumbled, trying to keep his thoughts clear as he approached the purple haired woman. "A-Are.... Are you.... Okay?"
 

Ravenbelle

An Artist of Words
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Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
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Fine being both passive and aggressive. i suppose it depends on the story, though i usually tend to swing passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern fantasy, Romance, Sci-fi, Hurt/Comfort, Horror,
Genre You DON'T Like
Medievel, detective stories
#5
Within Hope's mind, there was only echoing chaos, but outside it was far too quiet. The dissonance was jarring and she knew it was her fault. But that voice was persistent. She tried to anchor onto it, focus on this stranger's presence over the others before he succumbed to her powers as well. The urgency of saving the world on the other side of that portal still reverberated against the inside of her ribcage, but with every moment that passed, the present situation seemed more pressing. Her parents would be so disappointed. Hope clenched her teeth at the thought, but shook her head hard. She had to fix this. How How How How Her mind prodded, kept her breaths short and fast, but she was determined now to end this.
"A-Are.... Are you.... Okay?"
"Getting there.." she breathed, jaw twitching. She'd made such a mess.
But she had stopped it before; she could do it again. Just not under these circumstances. Hope grunted with the effort to control her own mind, then pulled herself out. What was around her? You have no idea where you are. She winced, but she could smell flowers. A lot of flowers. Had she tumbled through a flower shop? She felt asphalt beneath her bruised, scratched up knees, sharp bits of concrete digging into her skin. The copper taste of blood in her mouth and the sting of cold air against fresh burns scattered on her arms. The tears were flowing more slowly down her face now, and her hands had stopped shaking as her breaths slowed down. She wasn't okay, but she wasn't forcing others to be paralyzed in fear with her any longer. So new sounds started up again. Disoriented voices, a nearby police siren...The approaching blades of a helicopter.

She took a shaky breath, eyes wide and unfocused. She turned her face vaguely toward where the familiar voice had spoken to her. She could sense his presence near her; his emotions stabilizing quicker than most. "Could you p-please tell me where I am?" Hope's voice grew louder as the helicopter came closer. It was a news helicopter, beginning to hover over the whole block now, but she had no idea of that; she could feel her dark hair blowing slightly from its overhead presence. She hadn't the faintest clue what was going on and was visibly struggling to keep herself from spiraling back into fight or flight mode.
 
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mr_pibbs

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#6
Richard watched with wide eyes as the kneeled woman slowly began to relax, which caused the tingling sensation in the back of his skull to fade. Apparently, whatever she was doing to the rest of the crowd seemed to be wearing off too, as pretty soon everyone seemed to be back on track with their usual antics. Gothamites never usually paid attention to the world around them, even with the constant threat of super villains and whatnot lurking in the shadows. It also didn’t help that technology seemed to keep people mostly unawares of their surroundings, so Robin was, in part, grateful that nobody seemed to care enough about the disturbance to investigate beyond a few quick glances.

Robin approached the woman, finally closing the distance between them until he was able to get close and see her face. Her eyes were... Strange. White iris with no corneas; it was something Robin had never seen before in all of his years, but he wasn’t one to judge. It was different, but unique.

Offering her an understanding look, Robin answered her question. ”You’re in Gotham City. I’m Robin; boy wonder and partner of the Batman. What’s your name?”
 

Ravenbelle

An Artist of Words
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Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Fine being both passive and aggressive. i suppose it depends on the story, though i usually tend to swing passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern fantasy, Romance, Sci-fi, Hurt/Comfort, Horror,
Genre You DON'T Like
Medievel, detective stories
#7
”You’re in Gotham City. I’m Robin; boy wonder and partner of the Batman. What’s your name?”
He spoke just loud enough for her to hear him...Her eyes widened until she swore her eyebrows couldn't rise any higher. Robin..boy wonder..That's why his voice sounded familiar! She wanted to start sobbing again. "Fuck," all the air in her lungs seemed to puff out of her with that one word. She couldn't even answer him. If she was right, and this was her father from back in time, she couldnt tell him her name yet. He shouldn't even have seen her!
Then she heard other voices, talking like news reporters nearby, someone setting up a camera. She could not be seen. shit shit shit shit shit!
She reached swiftly for his arm and jerked him close, mumbling fast next to his ear, "Look, I'm not supposed to be here. I know Batman is Bruce Wayne. Please get me to him right now, he might know what to do." Then she stood up far too quickly and cried out, her right hand immediately pressing on the side of her right thigh, where she hadn't noticed a large gash had been sliced across it. Not very deep, but the new scab had torn just now, so it began to bleed through her jeans again. "Let's go. Now. please." She didnt know if it would be enough to convince him to trust her with the location of the batcave, but maybe her obvious desperation was enough for him to take her to Wayne manor.
 
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mr_pibbs

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#8
The minute she reached for his arm, Robin let out an audible yelp of surprise, but he didn't resist her grasp, nor did he attempt to attack her. The words she whispered in his ear caught him off-guard for sure, but Robin kept a straight face throughout it. How did she know who Bruce was? This was all mixed up. Why did she need to be brought to him, especially since she "wasn't supposed to be here"? What did that even mean?!

Regardless; Robin knew he had to learn more about this strange woman and decided the only way to do so was to play along.

"Hang on." he responded as he slowly sheathed his bo-staff and retrieved his grappling gun. Aiming it towards a nearby building and wrapping his arm around her own tightly, Robin looked at the crowd and said "Sorry folks; superhero business," before he fired off a line and pulled himself and his new companion off into the Gotham skyline.

As they landed on the rooftops out of sight of the citizens or the news-crew, Robin let go of the young woman's arm and turned to her, a concerned expression on his face. "Okay, first off; I'm not taking you anywhere until we cover some basic ground. First off; who are you? Secondly; why do you need to see Batman? Thirdly; why do you think you know the Dark Knight's secret identity? It's not something that he just gives out lightly. I should know."
 

Ravenbelle

An Artist of Words
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Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
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One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
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Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Fine being both passive and aggressive. i suppose it depends on the story, though i usually tend to swing passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern fantasy, Romance, Sci-fi, Hurt/Comfort, Horror,
Genre You DON'T Like
Medievel, detective stories
#9
"Hang on." he responded as he slowly sheathed his bo-staff and retrieved his grappling gun.
Hope experienced the first hint of relief with those two words. Something was being done. Something was happening. She was taking the first steps to getting back to her parents...with the help of her dad. Gods, time traveling is so fucking weird.
Aiming it towards a nearby building and wrapping his arm around her own tightly, Robin looked at the crowd and said "Sorry folks; superhero business," before he fired off a line and pulled himself and his new companion off into the Gotham skyline.
She leaned into him, realizing now how cold and weak her body was now that she was freaking out a bit less. They shot up into the night air and she shivered, but at least she was away from the cameras and people. She held onto him tightly, unsure of how far they were from the manor. Regardless, he landed far quicker than she thought he would. She could still hear the helicopter in the distance and they hadn't gotten any closer to ground level. A breeze blew against her as he let her go. Were they on a roof? Hope looked confused, putting her weight on her good leg.
"Okay, first off; I'm not taking you anywhere until we cover some basic ground. First off; who are you? Secondly; why do you need to see Batman? Thirdly; why do you think you know the Dark Knight's secret identity? It's not something that he just gives out lightly. I should know."
Hope blinked a few times, shaking her head. He was wasting time, but her dad was smart. He'd need something more in order to actually take her to grandpa. Hope sighed, but her hands started shaking a little. "Um.." she struggled to remember the order of the questions, still feeling overwhelmed and disoriented by all of this. "I..can't tell you who I am. Bad things could happen if I do. That's why I need to see--Batman. He won't know me, but I know him, the same way I know you're Richard aka Dick Grayson. If Bruce can figure out why I'm here, he might be able to help me find a way to send me back, so I don't..mess things up," she explained, eyes wandering as she tried to choose her words as carefully as she could. Her desperate tone was evident in every word she she stood, shivering now on the roof of an unfamiliar building so far and yet somehow so close to the people she loved. She wanted so badly just to lean forward and hug her father close, but he didn't know her yet. And if she slipped up enough, he might never know her. Could she prevent his and her mother's death by changing the past? Her eyes nearly welled up with tears just thinking about it. She could already be too late.
 
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mr_pibbs

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#10
The second she spoke, Robin’s face twisted up into a confused frown. “I’m not Richard Grayson.” he said, staring back at her with a perked eyebrow. “I’ve never heard that name before in my life.”

Taking a moment to properly examine her, Robin noticed the gash on her side and immediately sprung into action. “You’re hurt.” he muttered, quickly reaching into his utility belt to grab a small portable spray bottle filled with a medicinal foam. Wayne Enterprises had been experimenting with the utility for quite some time now as part of their Military Contracts (though Bruce wouldn’t endorse killing, so their focus was more on the medicinal side), but Robin knew it worked well.

“Hold still, this might sting.” he said, pulling her shirt apart around the wound so he could apply the spray. As he coated the area with the thick purple liquid, which quickly bubbled and foamed up into a solid form that took on the color of her skin, Robin looked at her and spoke again. “Now... Who are you? And why do you think Bruce Wayne is Batman?”
 

Ravenbelle

An Artist of Words
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Fine being both passive and aggressive. i suppose it depends on the story, though i usually tend to swing passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern fantasy, Romance, Sci-fi, Hurt/Comfort, Horror,
Genre You DON'T Like
Medievel, detective stories
#11
The second she spoke, Robin’s face twisted up into a confused frown. “I’m not Richard Grayson.” he said, staring back at her with a perked eyebrow. “I’ve never heard that name before in my life.”
"Wait, what?" she blinked, and nearly stumbled back in her disoriented state. Hope took a deep breath, trying to fight back the dizziness and think. Was he one of the other Robins Batman had taken on? No he couldn't be, he'd called himself the boy wonder. If it wasn't her father, then who..?
“You’re hurt.” he muttered, quickly reaching into his utility belt
Hope rolled her eyes. That was irrelevant. As long as she could take a nap sometime soon, she'd heal on her own. She heard his hands and the clicking of various pockets of his utility belt. It all sounded familiar, but not exactly right... Ooooooh..
“Hold still, this might sting.” he said, pulling her shirt apart around the wound
Hope startled slightly and almost flinched away from his touch. She hadn't been paying attention when he got close to her and then suddenly his hands were there. Normally when people touched her, they would warn her about what they were about to do with her, but 'this might sting' didn't really help much in the realm of preparation. She gasped at the cold spray that burned against exposed flesh and instinctively grabbed onto his arm and shoulder to hold herself up rather than folding in on herself. Hope bit her lip and held back a string of curses until he stopped and she instantly pulled her hands back off of him. He was probably close enough now to notice that her eyes never focused on his or even on one place for very long.
“Now... Who are you? And why do you think Bruce Wayne is Batman?”
Hope groaned and crossed her arms to try to keep herself warm on the windy rooftop. She gave up and heaved a sigh of resignation. "Fuck it. As long as you're not lying about your identity I should be fine...I'm Hope Grayson," she offered, now that the wheels were turning in her head she felt more confident in her theory this time. "I might be wrong...but I think I'm from another dimension. And in that one, Bruce Wayne is Batman, which I know cuz he's my grandpa. So I would love if he were at least as smart as my Bruce Wayne in this universe so maybe he can help send me back to my universe. And quickly. Really quickly.." she muttered, fingers fidgeting with each other as her breaths sped up to match her racing thoughts. "Gods, this probably sounds insane. I don't know how else to prove it though, aargggh!" she exclaimed frustrated and raking her fingers through her hair as she started to pace anxiously. On her first circle of steps on the roof, she pivoted dangerously close to the edge and didn't even notice while preoccupied trying her hardest to figure out a solid plan of action.