#saying that’s the easiest money he made and ‘this vigilante thing is a breeze’

[thejasontoddarchives]

52/WW III Part One: A Call to Arms #1 (2007)

You know you’ve hit rock bottom when you’re standing naked in front of a monument meant to honor a dead version of yourself while you’re alive, holding the Nightwing suit in one hand and the pill helmet in the other

[universeconspired]

"Uh, stab wound?"

          Time away from London had left Nova convinced she wasn’t sheltered. She was well travelled, could handle an adult life to some degree and had yet to endure the hardships that befell most of the youth who moved into the capital. Well, if she could say that considering she was put up in a pretty little flat in Kensington with top notch security in a relatively safe area of somewhat central London. And adulting didn’t really come into the equation considering she was given expenses by her parents to keep her sitting comfortable. Oh, how they would hate the fact their money was being spent on travelling Europe and falling for a stranger. It seemed very unlike her to have complete disregard for her own safety, throwing all of her trust into Dom like she’d known him for years instead of mere days. And yet, she could say without a doubt that she was head over heels for him. Even now, a few weeks into their travels - having deviated from her friends in favour of travelling with her summer love. It was like something out of a romance novel that she’d possibly have lusted over in her youth.

          Hell, she even was having one of those cliche moments: The balcony doors open to the sound of the waves crashing against the beach, the breeze blowing the curtains into the room here and there while the soft cotton of the sheets caressed her skin. Even though having the doors open meant the rising heat was entering the room, leaving their skin hot and sticky and somewhat unpleasant, Nova made very little effort to move. Instead, her fingers were tracing the abstract tattoos covering Dom’s body. Some seemed purposeful, causing her to linger around to figure out exactly why they were there while she traded soft, whispered questions and answers - not wanting to break the beautiful spell between them. 

          Half of the time, she didn’t believe his answers. As fantastic as his story telling may have been, there was the logical side of her brain refusing to accept that he would ever win in a fight against a bear and leave with a scar small enough to cover with a tattoo like that. And yet, the slightly hesitant confession for this particular one - an almost perfect line of a scar, currently being traced gently with her index finger - had her believing it. The words sent an uncomfortable twist up her stomach, head lifting and jerking up to look at his face with her eyebrows sharp in a frown. A few weeks together and he’d continually reminded her that she lived a ridiculously privileged life. She’d been sheltered from a lot of things in the world, naively believing that people just didn’t get stabbed unless it was some movie stunt or they were involved in the worst of crimes. Hell, she’d never heard of anyone being purposefully hurt in even distant circles of acquaintances growing up. In fact, the worst physical thing that had happened was someone being accidentally hit in the face with mallet during a game of polo.

          “Literally? With an actual knife?” She asked, hand flattening on his skin as her eyes fixed onto his with such worry. Every little insight into his world felt like some selfish exploration outside of her confines mixed with this overwhelming need to try and protect someone who definitely was more suited to protecting himself than she was. There were small hints that she’d picked up on, tiny murmurs and missteps in conversations that clued Nova into his life not being, perhaps, the easiest. And yet, there was small hops, where the gaps hadn’t quite been clued in just yet, that left her stomach sinking at just how someone who was so incredible could experience so much and still be such a loving, hilarious and fascinating individual. “Did it hurt?” It was a stupid question, one she regretted as soon as it was asked. However, her first thought had been were you okay, which had a far more obvious answer considering he was there, laying in the hotel bed with her enjoying the early morning laze.

          “Can I ask what happened? Was it an accident?” So many questions were racing through her mind and silencing them was almost impossible. How old had he been? She wasn’t an expert on scars, and with the creams and treatments available these days it was almost impossible to decipher the age of the scar beneath her fingertips. Even still, if it was a few years old? He was too young to have suffered a stab wound of all things. What sort of place did he come from? She was somewhat ignorant to the rest of the world, even though she believed she was well travelled. Had it happened in Canada? While travelling? The result of a violent mugging in the heart of Paris - those happened frequently in the daytime TV she rotted her brain with during exam periods. Then, a panic set over her. She didn’t want to push him away, not this early. As much as this felt like an eternity of them being together, she constantly had to remind herself that she’d known Dom for only a handful of weeks. Even then, she hadn’t revealed the full extent of how different their worlds were. The last thing she needed was him changing his mind because she was asking too many questions.

          “I got my appendix out when I was thirteen.” Slowly, Nova shifted to lay back against the pillow, shifting the sheets to expose the scar that was almost similar in some way to Dom’s own. A softer expression fell over her features then. “I’d love to say it was a traumatic experience, but they were rather terrified of my dad. Gave me enough morphine so I couldn’t feel anything for practically a week.” Stretching out her legs under the tangle of sheets, she let out a soft yawn - there was a determination deep inside of her to retain this calm, glowing bubble they were in right then regardless of stabbing or no stabbing. “I suppose this means you win. But it doesn’t stop me thinking you’re some sort of Superhero. Or Vigilante at the least… I’ve got my eye on you, Dominic Delane.”