Custody Battle Royale
[[Set immediately after Blackest Night.]]
Tula's alive. She's a mess of cuts and bruises, and her costume is toast; but she's alive and moving under her own power.Nothing to scoff at after the day she's had -- especially when so many of her friends can't say the same.
Gods, so many Titans dead. So many obliterated in Trigon's last, destructive gasp before the sick parody of life was taken from him. She'd been knocked unconscious in the explosion, and woken to the groans and quiet sobs of the other survivors.
They'd combed the wreckage for bodies and sent the living ones home to families, or to Titans' Tower if their only family was other Titans. Fortunately, the reporters on scene had been...restrained in their questions. Tula couldn't remember what they'd asked or what answers they'd gotten in return, but no one had thrown anyone across the blast zone or started screaming, so it must have gone reasonably well.
Tula would love nothing more right now than to teleport to Avalon or to Titan's Tower and sleep for a week; but she scrubs her free hand over her face and dials the Watchtower instead. She's got another job to do before she can rest. And it's got to be her, because she's lucky. She's alive.
And she has Garth again.
She doesn't know what she's done to have Persephone favor her while the goddess had claimed her own Champion in this battle, but Tula's going to be leaving offerings in gratitude for it for the rest of her days. She hasn't let go of Garth's hand since they found each other in the aftermath, and she doesn't intend to let go any time soon.
But because she's lucky, she's the one who needs to go find her friends' kids and tell them that they're orphans now. They deserve to hear it from someone who cares about them -- and someone who's going to be taking care of them from now on.
Tula's alive. She's a mess of cuts and bruises, and her costume is toast; but she's alive and moving under her own power.Nothing to scoff at after the day she's had -- especially when so many of her friends can't say the same.
Gods, so many Titans dead. So many obliterated in Trigon's last, destructive gasp before the sick parody of life was taken from him. She'd been knocked unconscious in the explosion, and woken to the groans and quiet sobs of the other survivors.
They'd combed the wreckage for bodies and sent the living ones home to families, or to Titans' Tower if their only family was other Titans. Fortunately, the reporters on scene had been...restrained in their questions. Tula couldn't remember what they'd asked or what answers they'd gotten in return, but no one had thrown anyone across the blast zone or started screaming, so it must have gone reasonably well.
Tula would love nothing more right now than to teleport to Avalon or to Titan's Tower and sleep for a week; but she scrubs her free hand over her face and dials the Watchtower instead. She's got another job to do before she can rest. And it's got to be her, because she's lucky. She's alive.
And she has Garth again.
She doesn't know what she's done to have Persephone favor her while the goddess had claimed her own Champion in this battle, but Tula's going to be leaving offerings in gratitude for it for the rest of her days. She hasn't let go of Garth's hand since they found each other in the aftermath, and she doesn't intend to let go any time soon.
But because she's lucky, she's the one who needs to go find her friends' kids and tell them that they're orphans now. They deserve to hear it from someone who cares about them -- and someone who's going to be taking care of them from now on.