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GOTHAM CITY, NEW JERSEY. 2011
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STUFFY BALLROOMS AND PRETENTIOUS galas used to bring some sort of appeal to Estela before. Technically speaking, it was every little girl's dream come true of finally becoming a princess in a fairytale. Now that she had to attend one almost every other week, it was starting to get tiresome.
All in all, those stuffy ballrooms and pretentious galas were a bore to her. Anything that required socializing and (barely) tolerating snobby, rich people were a bore to her. Donning exquisite silks and rare jewels were the only highlights of her evening—what can she say? Estela loved looking good. But if there was one other thing that bore Estela more than that, it was staying at the cavernous Wayne manor without Dick's company; the only reason why she bothered going with him and Bruce in the first place.
It wasn't the first ball Estela would be attending, she's been to enough that the usual partygoers recognized her on sight. And every time they did so, it was always the middle-aged women with their high pitched trills calling out her name, striking up false conversations with her only to ask about Bruce later on—that's what happens when everyone in high society thinks she's his niece.
Forcing fake smiles, hiding in bars, and listening to the same-template, boring speeches; always the same routine. Tonight would be no different.
She sighed and added some finishing touches to her hair—a few more pins to keep her updo in place. Grabbing her purse, Estela closed the lights in her room before heading out, her heels clicking against the floorboards in a satisfying manner.
"There you are," Bruce said impatiently when he spotted her by the landing. "I was beginning to think you drowned inside your closet."
Dick snorted, still looking at his phone. "Bruce was just saying that we should go without you. . ."
But the words died in his throat when he glanced up, seeing a figure in white descend the stairs gracefully. Estela was looking down at her feet, half of her face hidden from him but even then, Dick felt as if he'd been slapped by some heavenly deity. For a second it was almost like—and dare he say it—like seeing a divine messenger with his own eyes; pure and ethereal.
When Estela finally stopped in front of him, she gave a mischievous smirk. The face of an angel was gone, replaced by someone of the complete opposite, yet Dick still found it beautiful just the same.
"You were gonna go without me?" she asked them, directing her raised brow at Bruce.
The man merely shook his head. "Come on, we're late."
