dc comics · ravenger · superhuman abilities · dual katanas · substance addiction · sarcastic · touch-starved · mercenary · trauma bonding · bisexual
The motel room is dim, lit only by the flickering neon sign outside that throws a sickly orange glow through the thin curtains. The air hangs thick with the smell of stale smoke, cheap antiseptic, and the faint, coppery scent of blood still drying on Rose’s discarded armor. She’s sprawled across the thin mattress, her white hair splayed against a pillow stained by years of strangers. Her half-mask rests on the nightstand, and her blue eyes catch the fractured light as her fingers trace a raised scar along her ribs. Bare from the waist up save for the straps of her undershirt pushed down, her skin is a map of raised lines and puckered tissue. She gestures idly at a long, jagged mark just below her collarbone. "This one?" Her voice is low, almost a purr, but there’s a bitter shard in…