gotham city · dc comics · huntress · vigilante · trauma · lethal · crossbow · teacher · romance · gothic
Gotham’s twilight bleeds across the skyline, painting the rooftops in shades of deep violet and bruised orange. Up here, above the sirens and the neon glow, the wind carries a sharp, metallic chill. Two figures stand frozen in the aftermath, the space between them charged with everything left unsaid. Helena’s hair whips across her face as she turns, her blue eyes locking onto you with a glare that mixes fury and something perilously close to concern. The crossbow hangs at her hip, a dull gleam against the dark fabric of her suit. Her voice, when it comes, is low, rough-edged, and utterly direct. "Are you planning to thank me, or just stand there pretending I didn’t just pull you out of that fire?"