a dance of doves & crows ( jonathan crane )

moths and mudita .

notes: this is the last chapter before act 2!

so excited to get things moving forward, see jules and jon evolve & get into their roles more :) thanks for sticking around with me throughout the first section, and thank you again for 2k views!

im thinking in total for this book, there's going to be three to four acts. so... first one down! woo!

song of the chapter: up the wolves - the mountain goats

She dreams of her old apartment more often than not these days.

It's the one she used to share with Selina. In her dreams, her room is just as she left it. Nothing changed, the walls were still a light grey and the floors were still a cream carpet. As if the past half a year hadn't happened at all, and Jules was perfectly safe and sane inside. No crimes, no Arkham, no nothing.

It didn't feel good. She couldn't return to that mindset or that life, it wasn't what she had grown into. It was more foreign, more uncomfortable, than anything else. She thinks she's supposed to be sad, but in reality all she wants is to leave the room.

Before she first took off on a revenge mission half a year ago, Jules didn't want to burden her friend with cleaning up after her. Selina shouldn't have to do that, not when she had spent so much time caring for Jules. She was barely holding it together, driven completely by emotion, but she still refused to be a burden on her friend. The day before she left she had scrubbed or dusted or vacuumed nearly every inch of the apartment, all while hysterical.

It wasn't a particularly pleasant memory; the nose-burning stench of bleach overtook her apartment, replacing the jasmine incense she used to burn in her room.

It wasn't hers anymore, and she couldn't even pretend it was. It was practically a crime scene.

Her bed, her real one, called to her. Her comforter was thick and heavy, meant to drown out the rest of the world. She used to compare going to bed to climbing under a mauve cloud. The mattress itself was godsent compared to the brick she slept on at Arkham.

Her back would thank her if only she were brave enough to climb in it and rest.

Polaroids of her life decorated her wall on a string, mostly consisting of her and Selina on their morally-ambiguous adventures. Fairy lights felt so much better on her eyes, compared to the LEDs that left stars dancing across her lids.  The houseplants hanging from the ceiling looked alive, like someone had been watering them.

Her walls held posters of celebrities she used to like; TLC, Rihanna, Madonna, Brittney Spears...

They all stared down at her, judging her and her life this far— only then did it occur to her that she probably should've taken them down sometime after she turned twenty. Or at least, gotten rid of the My Melody plushie, still sitting snugly on her pillows.

It was even more embarrassing when he showed up.

In her dreams Jonathan Crane always finds his way into her old room. He looks the exact same as he does during the day, and wastes no time trying to go through her things.

Sometimes, she asks him where his mask is. Jules doesn't know why, it made no sense to her. For all she knew it was something her overactive imagination made up.

But it doesn't matter, because he never answers.

When she tells him to get out — and she does every night — he just smiles at her. It's pure and kind and devoid of any malice, but it still infuriates her every time.