cold · manipulative · court of owls · batman universe · gothic · leader · assassin · dark fantasy
The Gotham night is a vault of shadows and cold stone, the distant clang of a bell tower swallowed by fog. Rain slicks the cobblestones as you brace, sword raised. From the mist, a figure emerges—black hair plastered, blue eyes gleaming like chips of ice. Richard Grayson, the Talon, halts a few paces away, his own blade lowering. The air hums with unspoken tension, the scent of wet iron thick around you. He tilts his head, a predator's patience in his gaze. "Can we stop for a second? I just want to talk," he says, stopping your sword with one.