I would tell you how it haunts me, cuts through my day, and sinks into my dreams.
The early bird gets the worm.
When she was a child Rachel would adhere to this school of thought. She wasn't like other children that didn't like going to bed at a certain hour and would fuss over having a curfew. She was obedient unless she strongly opposed, loved her mother who worked hard and enjoyed life just as much. She misses her mother. She misses a lot of things.
Then she grew up and went to law school. The years caught up with her since time is unforgiving and her own mettle was tested as she interned at the DA's Office. Gotham without the Waynes, without their symbols of hope had changed drastically and with it so did much of her own beliefs. Her mother's insistence on a peaceful eight-hour sleep didn't fit into the gritty world she'd been welcomed into, the job she worked so tirelessly in.
It doesn't fit in this new world, either.
Rachel hasn't slept much since arriving at the Conrad Hotel and what little sleep she does find is restless. Plagued with dreams, dreams within a drawer of memories that aren't hers and feelings that don't belong to her, either. Once she tries chasing after them they're like rain, slithering past her fingers and unable to contain.
The Rift changes you.
She pushes the thought away, refuses to linger on it. Rachel has been in the common room all morning, curled up in one of the armchairs trying to be unassuming. She's tugging uncomfortably at the long sleeves of her blouse, and though she's holding a book in her hands she's read the same line at least five times.
A distraction is welcome, really. She's friendly, unless you're a criminal.
When she was a child Rachel would adhere to this school of thought. She wasn't like other children that didn't like going to bed at a certain hour and would fuss over having a curfew. She was obedient unless she strongly opposed, loved her mother who worked hard and enjoyed life just as much. She misses her mother. She misses a lot of things.
Then she grew up and went to law school. The years caught up with her since time is unforgiving and her own mettle was tested as she interned at the DA's Office. Gotham without the Waynes, without their symbols of hope had changed drastically and with it so did much of her own beliefs. Her mother's insistence on a peaceful eight-hour sleep didn't fit into the gritty world she'd been welcomed into, the job she worked so tirelessly in.
It doesn't fit in this new world, either.
Rachel hasn't slept much since arriving at the Conrad Hotel and what little sleep she does find is restless. Plagued with dreams, dreams within a drawer of memories that aren't hers and feelings that don't belong to her, either. Once she tries chasing after them they're like rain, slithering past her fingers and unable to contain.
The Rift changes you.
She pushes the thought away, refuses to linger on it. Rachel has been in the common room all morning, curled up in one of the armchairs trying to be unassuming. She's tugging uncomfortably at the long sleeves of her blouse, and though she's holding a book in her hands she's read the same line at least five times.
A distraction is welcome, really. She's friendly, unless you're a criminal.