✧Zatanna Zatara✧ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
backwordscompatible) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tushanshu_logs2015-10-08 07:39 pm
backwordscompatible) wrote in tushanshu_logs2015-10-08 07:39 pm
Entry tags:
[Closed] Signed, Sealed, Delivered...
Characters: Zatanna Zatara & Jack Frost
Date: early October
Location: Starting off at the Welcome Center rooftop, then who knows?
Situation: Discussions of Letters and...Home
Warnings/Rating: Possible talk of vigilante life & minor violent situations.
All in all, Zatanna had a pretty good day.
The sun was out, and while the weather was starting to cool again, she hardly ever felt it. One of the pleasant side-effects of her charm (as in, the necklace kind) was that she could still wandering around in Autumn weather in little more than a sleeveless top and shorts. Capturing as many rays of sunlight as she could.
In fact, by the time she returned from her errands, she and the sun weren't quite finished with one another yet. The day's haul was placed in her room in the back, and from there, she opted to climb out the window and float up to the rooftop. Assuming a place on the ledge over the front of the building, legs idling dangling over the edge. It had been a while since she'd been up there. Rooftops tended to remind her of home. Specifically, the brooding part of home. Not that she was there to brood. Not really.
But she was there to think of home. Specifically, a certain letter that she'd received the previous month:
Hey, mini-me.
Love, big me.
Familiar handwriting aside, Zatanna knew the letter had to have come from herself, if for no other reason than the added note at the very bottom:
P.S. -- I don't care what Dad tells us, do NOT trust a guy with a puppet. Ever.
...if she hadn't been so busy shuddering at a certain childhood memory, she might have laughed. Her one greatest, darkest secret. So dark, she had forgotten about it entirely until this alleged older version of herself reminded her of it.
"But why running shoes?" She wondered to herself, placing the letter down in her lap and leaning back. Eyes closing, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Contemplating what all this could possibly mean.
Date: early October
Location: Starting off at the Welcome Center rooftop, then who knows?
Situation: Discussions of Letters and...Home
Warnings/Rating: Possible talk of vigilante life & minor violent situations.
All in all, Zatanna had a pretty good day.
The sun was out, and while the weather was starting to cool again, she hardly ever felt it. One of the pleasant side-effects of her charm (as in, the necklace kind) was that she could still wandering around in Autumn weather in little more than a sleeveless top and shorts. Capturing as many rays of sunlight as she could.
In fact, by the time she returned from her errands, she and the sun weren't quite finished with one another yet. The day's haul was placed in her room in the back, and from there, she opted to climb out the window and float up to the rooftop. Assuming a place on the ledge over the front of the building, legs idling dangling over the edge. It had been a while since she'd been up there. Rooftops tended to remind her of home. Specifically, the brooding part of home. Not that she was there to brood. Not really.
But she was there to think of home. Specifically, a certain letter that she'd received the previous month:
Hey, mini-me.
If I know you--and really, why wouldn't I?--it's best to keep this letter short,
so I'll get right to the point: always be sure to keep a pair of running shoes
on hand in the event Batman shows up in your dressing room with
a pig and a favor to ask.
Love, big me.
Familiar handwriting aside, Zatanna knew the letter had to have come from herself, if for no other reason than the added note at the very bottom:
P.S. -- I don't care what Dad tells us, do NOT trust a guy with a puppet. Ever.
...if she hadn't been so busy shuddering at a certain childhood memory, she might have laughed. Her one greatest, darkest secret. So dark, she had forgotten about it entirely until this alleged older version of herself reminded her of it.
"But why running shoes?" She wondered to herself, placing the letter down in her lap and leaning back. Eyes closing, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Contemplating what all this could possibly mean.