WHO: God Eye Sister Latea Galatea [
sightlessgod] and Robin Tim Drake Stevie Kent [
bratwonder].
WHAT: They totes have some serious talking to do. :[
WHERE: Mendelssohn Orphanage
WHEN: Today, a very rainy and gloomy afternoon
(
What went wrong? Why did he change? )
Comments 17
Huh. Who knew Galatea was good with kids?
He swung around to survey the scene, and amended that thought a couple times. Who knew Galatea had bad hair days? Who knew Galatea made swordfight sound effects? Who knew Galatea was blind?
Well. Obviously not him.
". . . Um."
And that was about as much as he could get out. After everything that'd gone down the last two weeks, seeing another ally down - down and out? whispered a nasty little voice in the back of his head - was just too much to process. Maybe it was all a joke. A trick for early Halloween.
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"That's enough for today. We'll resume tomorrow afternoon. Run on along, now."
There was a collective groan from the group, but after a bit of coaxing and a lot of promising, they cleared out of the room reluctantly, and Galatea was left with her guest. She was quiet for what seemed like a very long time, but when she did speak her voice was warm.
"Hello. It's been a while, hasn't it?"
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He felt sick. Every second, the possibility that this wasn't real faded further into the foggy distance. He'd spent two months watching the lives of people he trusted, relied on, and cared for go downhill with no way to stop it, and now that he'd finally woken up... it looked like he shouldn't have bothered.
Tim swallowed hard against the knot in his guts, and looked down. "Should I bother asking what I missed?" he mumbled, slumped backward against the bookshelf. Standing up straight was for losers with no muscle atrophy.
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She tried to smile, but it was a weak attempt and flickered away just as quickly as it had come. She'd had too much happen as of late. It was wearing on her. So instead she tried for something easier. "It depends on what you'd like to know first." She sighed and leaned back against her chair, trying to settle on what she was feeling, and decided she felt old. It was a foreign concept, given that she hadn't expected to live as long as she had, and the feeling was both vaguely comfortable and terribly depressing.
Quietly and with great sincerity, she said, "I am sorry I couldn't brace you for this very well. It would have been in poor taste to mention my... condition over the journals."
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