Jan. 3rd, 2007

[identity profile] n-ranger.livejournal.com
Clara wasn't used to Wayne Manor quite yet. But she had gotten used to the people there. But times like this reminded her of just how young she really was. She hadn't felt great so she had made her way to the kitchen to get a cup of orange juice. The cups where easily within reach. But not the juice. It was up high in the refigerator where Clara couldn't quite reach the juice. She pouts slightly and wonders just when she'll get big enough to do things like the boys. It annoys her to need to trust people who she really doesn't know anything about. She knows that they work with Ms Wayne. But she really has no idea if she's supposed to trust them with everything. It's hard to give them all of her trust even if they are nice , for the most part after all; Brenda is a very intimidating adult. Clara grumbles softly to herself and puts aside the cup. Time to decide just what she would do.

And so she starts to wander through the house. Looking for something to keep her active mind occupied.
[identity profile] dbattyones.livejournal.com
Katalyn watched as a mother and her young child, a tiny girl with golden locks and a dirty nose, made their way down the street, tryin to hurry in the light rain. Nightlife faded in and out of view, shadowing the pair as they hurried to the homeless shelter, unaware of their pursuer.

Suddenly the little girl tripped, and the young mother started, stopped, and tried to help her up.

"Quickly, Macey, quickly," she said. Katalyn understood her fear. It was too late at night in too rough an area for them to stop.

And, as the mother feared, they were caught. Katalyn frowned as a tall, homeless-looking man appeared out of an alley.

"Need some help?" he asked gruffly. The mother and daughter froze.

"N-n-no," the woman said, picking up her child.

"Too bad," the man suddenly sprang forward, grabbing the mother and roughly shoving her against a wall. The woman cried out, but the child screamed louder.

And suddenly two hands grabbed the man around the neck, choking him until he let go. Then Nightlife turned and threw him into a wall, satisfied with the crunch he made and the silence of his form. Then she turned and looked at the mother, who'd snatched her child, staring with wide eyes.

Ready to be robbed. Or killed. That's how it rolled in this town.

"Go," Nightlife said gruffly. "Two blocks down, one to the right. Carry your girl, the way is clear for at leave twenty minutes."

The woman stared, and Nightlife jerked her head.

"Go," she said. The woman turned and started running, and Nightlife watched, staring into the little girl's eyes as she was born away by a loving but hard struck mother.

She sighed, then looked at the lump.

"I outta gut you," she spat at him. He moaned, but didn't wake up.


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Brenda Wayne-Gordon's Gotham

January 2008

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