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swingatshadowsIt's hard to believe that I've been around in Darrow for half a year already. I guess it really shouldn't come as a surprise to the girl who let a literal decade slide by, and yet it's still kind of remarkable how good I continue to be at it. Avoiding life. Skating by.
To be fair, it's not like I've been holed up in my room these past several months. I've made friends, I hold a full-time job, and being a hero still definitely cuts into my sleep every night. But all of these things are easily tackled in isolation. Nothing's existential, and nothing is really working towards finding a way back home. I guess in some ways, it's a relief that I have an excuse not to think about it as much.
My chat with Coop, that's what turned me around. A reminder of just how important Peter was in helping me make something of myself. Even if I'm still struggling to do things for me, I... owe him, at least. I owe his legacy more than enough to actually try to check up on the young, teenaged, and probably confused version of him.
I never claimed to be the best big sister.
After a long day of work at the Guardian, the streets were quieter than usual, offering Cindy plenty of time to sit and reflect as she sat on the rooftop of the city's tallest building. Things were easier to process from a distance. There was no immediacy of emotion, of identity — just a large system running smoothly that she could supervise from afar, ready and willing to jump in if something disrupted the flow.
But as the sun started to rise over the horizon, it was pretty clear that Cindy wasn't going to have an excuse to avoid her swirling thoughts for much longer. She flipped through her phone. Minimal criminal activity. And an ever-approaching date that she had to keep herself in front of, lest she let things become even more awkward than they were.
A kid's birthday was never the right time to reconnect, and reconnecting after felt too unfeeling.
Stopping by the only passable bagel vendor she'd found in the city, Cindy picked up a half dozen varieties (with cream cheese, of course) and swung between the buildings to make her way to Peter's window. Dropping down to his balcony, she spared only the briefest glance towards the bedroom for any peripheral hint of movement, before kicking back on the railing. If the kid was asleep, let him sleep in. Once he woke up, his spidey-sense would probably announce her arrival anyway.
To be fair, it's not like I've been holed up in my room these past several months. I've made friends, I hold a full-time job, and being a hero still definitely cuts into my sleep every night. But all of these things are easily tackled in isolation. Nothing's existential, and nothing is really working towards finding a way back home. I guess in some ways, it's a relief that I have an excuse not to think about it as much.
My chat with Coop, that's what turned me around. A reminder of just how important Peter was in helping me make something of myself. Even if I'm still struggling to do things for me, I... owe him, at least. I owe his legacy more than enough to actually try to check up on the young, teenaged, and probably confused version of him.
I never claimed to be the best big sister.
After a long day of work at the Guardian, the streets were quieter than usual, offering Cindy plenty of time to sit and reflect as she sat on the rooftop of the city's tallest building. Things were easier to process from a distance. There was no immediacy of emotion, of identity — just a large system running smoothly that she could supervise from afar, ready and willing to jump in if something disrupted the flow.
But as the sun started to rise over the horizon, it was pretty clear that Cindy wasn't going to have an excuse to avoid her swirling thoughts for much longer. She flipped through her phone. Minimal criminal activity. And an ever-approaching date that she had to keep herself in front of, lest she let things become even more awkward than they were.
A kid's birthday was never the right time to reconnect, and reconnecting after felt too unfeeling.
Stopping by the only passable bagel vendor she'd found in the city, Cindy picked up a half dozen varieties (with cream cheese, of course) and swung between the buildings to make her way to Peter's window. Dropping down to his balcony, she spared only the briefest glance towards the bedroom for any peripheral hint of movement, before kicking back on the railing. If the kid was asleep, let him sleep in. Once he woke up, his spidey-sense would probably announce her arrival anyway.