cardinalemerald-blog

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@chvritycvse: so i mean. brothers don't always suck #breakingnews

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She’s still working on the whole outfit, but the green leather leggings are a start, and her combat boots are quieter than she ever expected them to be against the rooftop. A smile quirks at the corners of her lips--painted ruby red and glimmering in the dark--her target in the Red Hood’s sights? Oh, her instincts are definitely getting better. 

“Your second’s about to be up.” 

precision and accuracy, always a requirement in everything jason todd does that requires such focus. the RED HOOD is perched, very closely examining a man in a white business suit, rifle at the ready, and as he hears, perhaps, steps coming close, he raises a hand.

“stop right there for just a second. DADDY’S busy.”

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“My family is so screwed up”.

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@chvritycvse: i'm literally so bored i'm going to cry when is this party going to get interesting???

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Chronology || Drabble

She’s ten the first time her life is uprooted. Granted, the ten years she’s been alive haven’t exactly been a cake walk, but she’s had a roof over her head and a warm bed to come home to. Ten years of living under the hopelessly irresponsible hand of her mother, the cautious and shaking hands of her brother following closely behind, has all come down to this. 

To squatting in an abandoned building on the south end of the city, with dirt smeared across her cheek and Cyrus’s jacket--three, maybe four times too big for her--tucked around her as she rests her head on a grungy, mold-eaten floor. And she doesn’t understand why they can’t go home, why she can’t go get her favorite t-shirt that was in the wash the night they crept out, why they can’t eat something other than the mushy nutrition bars Cyrus keeps handing her. 

She gets used to it, grows up on it, washing up in public restrooms or the occasional sleepover she gets invited to. Three years have made her good at hiding, good at tucking away the things that nobody wants to see, the things that alarm them. They’ve gotten good, found a system, a circuit they run, and Cyrus has become the king of her world. 

Trouble comes again when she’s thirteen. It changes everything--the way she breathes, the callouses on her palms, the clothes she wears. Trouble comes and Cyrus is gone and now she has to answer for everything they did--together--while she’s completely alone. Sure, he’s being held responsible, too, but he’s Not Sound of Mind so it’s different, and she’s Sound of Something--yelling, mostly, they can’t get her to shut up--so the brunt of it falls to her. 

The phrase Just a Kid gets thrown around so often those first few months that she thinks about getting it tattooed on her forehead, just so that they know she knows. Instead, she constantly writes F U C K O F F on her nails in pretty pinks and bright golds, a rattle-snake warning, a brightly-colored spider. Just like that, she stops being a kid and becomes a poison. 

Terese Angelica West grows into her name--as long as she is loud--and reminds herself not to leave it sitting with her retainer on the counter. To tie it around her neck like the little green castle charm Cyrus stole for her when she was eleven. To don it like the heavy kohl eyeliner and the black lacquer of her nails. She is a West, she is proud, and she will survive this city if it kills her. 

He’s in and out of Arkham more times than she can count--and she stops paying it much attention, stops answering the letters, too, even though they come in spades. But as she stops paying attention, she starts practicing her speech: if she’s honest, Terese knows that Cyrus will never be out of her life completely. He was one her king, and now he’s her shadow, following close behind as she tries to ignore him.

Gotham City takes no prisoners and kills all hostages, because whether or not you die in the city, your soul does. Terese learns that when she’s fifteen, and she realizes that no matter what, she’s on her own now. The system won’t help her, Cyrus won’t come back, and her mother is a deadbeat. 

Emerald shines brighter than Terese ever has, and there’s a freedom in fighting underhanded sick bastards. It’s the beginning of everything, and the end of a small, scared little girl. 

She’s seventeen when things start to get rocky again...

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“Thank you.” It occurs to her, after a few beats, that she should say something polite in turn, but her mind is spinning in twelve different directions of This is Wrong and I Shouldn’t Have Come. This whole event is uncomfortable. “Terese West, resident charity case.” 

    “ i couldn’t tell. you look very nice tonight. ” she’s genuine, though she also hoping she hadn’t upset the girl in anyway with her earlier words. “ something like that, yeah. he’s an odd man; a good one, though. oh — i’m barbara gordon, by the way. ”

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A polite laugh, nodding as her gaze trips downwards towards the floor. “This isn’t my usual crowd.” Certainly not what was expected out of a seventeen year old orphan. “He likes to entire in style, then...”

    “ is this your first time at one of his events?? ” she wonders, inclining her head towards the woman, “ because he’s always late. fashionably late, in his mind, i’m sure. it’s like a thing. ” drives alfred crazy, too.

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She tries--and fails--to not quirk a smile. “I’ve yet to see the man of the hour, myself. Are we sure he’s even attending?” 

    “ we’ll get them. between the people that actually do care and the people who just want to make themselves look good, it’ll be fine. bruce wayne knows how to work these kinda things. ”

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“Yeah, the donations would be nice. God knows we could use ‘em.” 

    “ you’d think, but you’d be fairly far off the mark there. like — another continent, maybe. not that it matters though; as long as they donate and don’t make too much of a scene. ”

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“Or one of the rich dudes.” 

“I bet he’ll hit on someone that’s, like, married to one of the rich dudes and get kicked out.”

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“Well he looks like a lightweight, so... I’m guessing like. A drink and a half?” 

“okay, but like, on a scale of tipsy to SHITFACED - how much does he look like he’s had??”

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“You’d think rich people would have more--I dunno--class.” 

    “ oh yeah, it never fails. there’s ALWAYS someone. they treat it like tailgating before a football game. ” 

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“What’s supposed to be interesting about a bunch of entitled old people sitting around talking about how great their lives are?” 

“ —-YOU know. for an a-grade party as the papers are promoting, setting the booze aside, this is pretty darn DULL, wouldn’t you say ?? ”

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“Y’know… I think he  might have had a little too much to drink before the party.” 

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“Mmm, maybe. But you’re not my type so...” 

“Maybe, but I’m far from being an idiot.”