𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋'𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐘
❝You want revenge, and that's something I can't give you.❞
𝐎livia Wayne wasn't only a pretty face, but she was also a skillful and graceful lady capable of hurting the man with her charm. At least, that...
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9 months later.
SOMETHING HAD CHANGED.
Something that Olivia Wayne didn't take long to figure out and didn't know whether to feel relief or fear.
It was very likely that she felt the two equally, but it was something strange and uncertain, like a thunderstorm about to arrive - but not arriving at the same time. Criminality lowered its level noticeably, being almost nil. Batman somehow continued to patrol the streets of Gotham City alongside his partner, Robin. Oracle was just another assistant in everything that happened at night. As for Olivia, despite everything, she didn't return to how she was before - that pretty and graceful face had been completely obscured after knowing that Jason Peter Todd wouldn't return. That blackness gnawed her heart completely and Bruce felt that her ward was being consumed by that same darkness that he was already used to looking at. The feeling of pain was too much for both of them, but the millionaire wouldn't let her be consumed by that darkness. There was a way to fix it.
Bruce Wayne sent Olivia away.
England, to be exact.
Despite the blonde's constant complaints, Bruce remained firm in his decision and after the small funeral they did in honor of Jason - Wayne, he boarded his protégé on a plane and she landed at London International Airport. It wasn't easy at first, and Olivia knew it, so he sent Atlas Eisley a week later. The two stayed together at one of Bruce's properties in the city and looked for work, trying to live a normal life - the millionaire banned her from any job that involves being vigilant or patrolling the streets, thus protecting her from causing more pain to her being or Atlas'. So the two friends remained low-key, their eyes watching and doing nothing - the real heroes were the ones responding.
Olivia had achieved an ingenious skill with painting; her brush strokes were outlandish, drawing that portrait of a loved one, whom she hated when she looked into his blue eyes that time. She also painted her remnants of the past, those people who left the world of the living and who were now in hell itself - being judged by millions of fingers and hungry jailers who wanted to find their pain. She painted Samuel, her blood brother, who rested among the dead and watched every action the blonde did from the farthest constellations. She then painted Atlas, as it struck her as funny how he tried to make her laugh while doing ridiculous things or even telling meaningless jokes - all just to make her smile. Finally, Olivia painted Bruce, Alfred, and Dick, all three being the three pillars that held the girl in all this time - giving her protection and, somehow, love.
Despite the fact that Bruce and Alfred contacted her constantly, Olivia missed them - missed that simple company of both of them.
She missed feeling the adrenaline between her fingers, too.
