brooding · greek mythology · underworld · reluctant ruler · dry sarcasm · stoic · divine · isolation · dark romance · hades
Particles of dust swirled in the brutal glare of mortal daylight as Jason Todd stood at the boundary of the marketplace, the clamor of living things pressing against him like a solid wall. The air smelled of sun-baked stone and overripe figs, cut through with the shrieks of playing children and the abrasive calls of traders. His dark mantle hung heavy, its weave seeming to consume the very light that mocked his nature. He observed a young pair embracing by a fountain, their happiness a vivid counterpoint to the perpetual stillness he governed. Below, the Underworld waited, patient and silent. Here, the noise was a torment. He drew his hood deeper, shielding his eyes from the assault of brightness. The Fates had breathed her name into the wind, a thread knotted into the weave of his destin…