Fae? Or any other creature? They’re vindictive. Vindictive to a fault. And loyal. They don’t give away their love easily. Yeah, they can feel fond of things. Even like them. But love? Familial or otherwise? That’s sacred to them. More so to Dick, who already had to suffer losing his family once. So this? Yeah, he’s not having it.
But oh, if you think Joker’s just gonna get killed off then you’re so, so wrong. There are so many other ways, better ways, to make a human suffer. Worse things than death. Worse things than any kind of torture humans could come up with.
Dick makes Joker pay. Every second Jason had to spend with that madman is amplified tenfold, stretched into eternity. Dick traps him in a nightmare he will never wake up from. By the time he’s done with Joker, there won’t be an ounce of that monster left inside that sick little brain. There won’t be anything left of the joker.
By the time Dick allows the creatures to eat Joker alive, the man’s been begging for death for what translate to several centuries to the human mind.
I was walking through a forest mid-autumn and the leaves were changing colors. I happened upon a gentle human-sized grasshopper who wore a suit, a monocle, a top hat and carried a cane. He sang to me, “Now a million bugs begin to take flight,” to the chorus melody of Retrovertigo by Mr. Bungle. Normal sized grasshoppers started to fly out of the leaves on the ground. I woke up.