inbox

[pearlstrings]

bruce wayne @ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ @ʙʀᴜᴄᴇ audio & text

PLEASE NOTE: Bruce has two inboxes.

His official user id for the network is Bruce and if you meet in person, in the unlikely event he gave you his contact details, this is the ID he would give you.

That said, his conversations on the network have largely been under the id of Wayne, as a way to keep his two identities separated.
This is the username he uses most often and he will answer replies to that handle- there just seems to be no physical person on the registry to link it to.

Comments

@regina

[itselbitch]

so why wayne?

is that like
way ne

or like
wayne
the actual name

[pearlstrings]

It's my family name.

Why Regina? Are you a queen?

@jtodd

[mind_blown]

kidnapping, huh

[pearlstrings]

I'll admit, the conversational tone is somewhat worrying.

@riku; voice

[equinoctials]

[ Softly: ] Hey. If you're listening to this, good morning.

Knowing you, you'll want to know what happened right when you wake up. Maybe Jason will beat me to this. To say he's protective of you is putting it lightly.

[ He cuts to the chase: ]

The minute people started eating at the feast they started losing consciousness. I couldn't even tell you if it was drugged because we were attacked right away. We didn't have time.
Spirits. Different from our usual. Wilder. Some of the green eyed ones too, the ones who can cause you to hallucinate, they were on us before we could understand what had happened to you.

Those of us who could still fight grabbed whoever we could and tried to find somewhere to hide. Vanitas and Jason took you somewhere safe. If you wake up, be careful venturing out. These guys aren't pulling any punches. We've lost people.

[ Riku seems like he could say something else. Instead, he breathes out quietly. ]

...I hope you wake up to something better than what's going on right now.

@wayne | voice

[pearlstrings]

[The surroundings are familiar, but they're also not where he last remembers standing, or where he was so convinced he'd been. Riku's voice is the first thing he hears as his eyes begun to open, as his vision focuses on the ceiling overhead.

He sits up slow, aware if the strange stiffness in his limbs first. Aware of the disused quality of his voice second.

He prioritizes.]

Who have we lost?

—text / @parker

[webshoots]

[ it takes him a little while to send this message. part of it's because ignorance is bliss, right? if he ignores it, it means it didn't happen, they can both pretend it didn't happen, and they can get on with their lives, except— it's not that simple, is it? and whilst he might have promised jason he wouldn't mention anything, that doesn't take the knowledge away. it doesn't mean that he's not privy to something that he, by all rights, shouldn't be privy to.

it's not a question of evening things out, not as such, but — settling, maybe. ]

You don't really strike me as a Netflix kinda guy, but did you ever catch that episode of Friends? "Pivot"?

@wayne

[pearlstrings]

I'm sorry but I really don't have time for this right now.

@riku; text

[equinoctials]

[ He's been a constant presence at the Museum since the three of them retrieved Vanitas from the church, leaving here and there, only to return with... food, most of it from a can and none of it particularly tasty, sometimes news.

This time, he was out to properly move in to his official address, only to notice something different in town. ]

Did you hear about what's going on over at the docks?

[pearlstrings]

Yes. I'm going to try my hand at bartering. Vanitas's rats keep taking things.


[Bruce is hard to read at the best of times, but the absence of inflection in his texts don't do anyone any favors.

And though it seems like the reply will end there- after a lengthy pause, another follows.]



Where are you staying?

[inthenightmods]

[After the Night Market has descended back into the lake, Bruce receives an inbox message!]

THANK YOU FOR PURCHASING TWO (2) HINTS FROM DR. SCHICKSAL'S HINT-O-MATIC. YOUR PAYMENT HAS BEEN PROCESSED.

[Bruce has lost hearing in one of his ears. He'll also find that he's terrified of someone that he loves the most. These effects fade on the next full moon.]

[pearlstrings]

Th...an..k...s......

@darkness

[evulsed]

What's wrong with you?

[pearlstrings]

Did you go to the church?

[equinoctials]

Found at the museum: A plain box wrapped in paper, tied with a suspiciously creased (as in, gently reused) dark blue ribbon, a folded page is tucked under the knot, the word "Bruce" on display. Opening the box will reveal a dark leather bracer.

If it looks a little familiar, that's because it this is what has become of one of Riku's gloves, meant to fit over Bruce's offhand and forearm, with adjustable straps tied with sturdy cord, without metal moving pieces that might rust, catch the light, or make noise.

The outer edge feels thicker and sturdier, because between layers of leather he's placed a flat steel plate for additional protection. Excess leather was carefully shaped to resemble the bat-like Unversed that's been following Bruce around, riveted into the surface.

"This material still has some of the good fairies magic in it. I hope it protects you like it protected me. No matter how deep the darkness, remember you're not alone.
-Riku"

[pearlstrings]

[He would know it was Riku without the card. The gesture suits him and the gift is something that perhaps only he would have thought of. He wonders how much he might have considered the symbolism of the act before doing it- if Riku realizes that he is, once again, sacrificing his own safety to extend protection to the people around him.

Not for the first time, Bruce thinks they are of a kind.

The bracer sits between his palms for a very long time. And then he types out a message.]

A partner?
[The bat?]

@jtodd

[mind_blown]

it's real annoying to try and keep something on the down low from you, and then your friends are the only people that come with useful information
i just wanted to be petty

[pearlstrings]

Oh.

Did you mean like you and Peter Parker?

@darkness

[evulsed]

The sewers.

[pearlstrings]

Oh. Are you going with Jason Todd?

text - backdated to Christmas

[notthatjason]

[Attached is a picture taken just outside the church. It's a small army of tiny snowmen (no taller than 5-10 inches) or perhaps more accurately snow sigillaria. If you look, each snowman has an initial on its belly to correspond to the people Jason considers himself close to. Written in the snow are the words: Happy Saturnalia & Merry Christmas.

He couldn't find enough gifts for everyone he wanted to, so he sculpted these an sent out a sort of Christmas card instead. Of course, the snowmen are still there in person for the foreseeable future.]

[pearlstrings]

A digital holiday card?

7th of January - so an islander walked in a blizzard

[equinoctials]

I'm heading back now. See you soon.

[ Flurries had only just started to whirl down through the dark sky. With a sack of canned goods from the General Store and astride his electric bike, he was sure he'd be back at the Museum well before the weather took any turn for the worse. Fifteen minutes into the ride, visibility dropped; the lantern-lit headlight that Quentin and Riku had fashioned was more a hindrance than a help, illuminating only the fat flakes of snow blowing into his face.

He abandoned the bike, tucking his nose into his blue scarf, pulling his gray hoodie up over his silver hair. Picking a direction, he walked, shielding his stinging eyes from the steadily strengthening wind. Trees groaned and swayed. In time his steps dragged through the gathering snow, it crept into his cuffs, into his collar.

Riku tripped on something, and before he knew it, had half-collapsed against a hard and snow-covered shape propped up against a tree. In his confusion, he swept some of the snow off its unforgiving frame with one gloved hand, and saw a gleam of old chrome.

It was his bike. He was walking in circles, dazed by the swirling snow, the gnawing cold. For minutes, he tucked himself around his burning lantern, shielding his face from the blowing wind that made his lungs ache. Riku tried to think.

Even the temperate waters around Destiny Islands could be lethal, every child knew you needed to stop swimming when your lips started to go purple, your body getting too cool. Out here, he would fall to the drowning sickness like anyone back home - by sinking into exhaustion, and then sinking past sleep into death. He couldn't stay here, but where could he go?

The wrong direction could send him marching into empty forest until his strength gave out.

Compared with how some of the others had died, it would be peaceful. Merciful. ]

I'm not giving up...

[ That was more a thought than words, the rest was too chopped up in his chattering teeth, broken by shiver in his breath. It was so cold.

I won't give up, not until I see them again..!

He had wandered somewhere else, exhausted and lonely in the dark, years and years ago. Back then, he had said Sora and Kairi. The cold freezes his grief in the corners of his stinging eyes. Almost a week ago, he spent up so much of his grief, clinging to a friend behind the museum; the grief is less sharp and deeply wounding, for the first time in a long while. Maybe he's growing numb as he freezes. Maybe...

Like a window glowing warm and golden in a blizzard, Riku feels something bloom in his breast, a warmth that's nostalgic, familiar, unfurling like a banner into the whipping wind.

Deliriously cold, Riku huddles around his lantern and staggers blindly into the blizzard, following the call. Following the pull that's hooked itself in his heart.

He doesn't remember his boots thumping up the steps, the dull pain in his shoulder when he stumbles against the large door and sags to the ground, by the time he reaches the museum threshold, the freezing cold has stolen away his consciousness and frozen solid the cans in his sack. ]

so an idiot walked home in a blizzard

[pearlstrings]

[Bruce worries. This is neither strange or new to those familiar with him; not one to pace the floor and threaten to wear a groove in it, Bruce keeps these thoughts as close to the chest as he does all others. But like a splinter, every time his eyes flick in the direction of the door or the window, he's reminded that it's there. Stuck beneath the skin. He doesn't say anything to Vanitas, who may or may not have also gotten a message- but their gazes meet over his mug of hot chocolate and when he can't sit on it any longer, Bruce goes to put on his boots.

He has enough layers accumulated to be able to wrap himself up. Gotham doesn't get weather that's horrific, but it's no stranger to cold and sleet and ice. He wraps his face and pulls his mask down underneath it. He covers his hands and loops extra wrappings around his back. He tells Vanitas to stay here, to stay near the door in case Riku makes it back first and he goes out into the snow to start looking.

Only a few minutes in and he knows he was right to be concerned. Conditions are bleak, everywhere that isn't black with perpetual night is streaked with huge wet flakes. Snow comes up to his calves. He squints through the storm and keeps his lantern sheltered against his chest, looking for an answering beacon, but the minutes pass and there's nothing. If he's honest, here alone, in the black, he's afraid he'll find nothing but shards again- a bent frame, fractured glass. It keeps him walking. He shouts Riku's name against the wind but isn't sure if it can be heard. The path fills up behind him, erasing his steps, and it's only the rope he winds along with him that promises to lead the way out again. He makes his way in the direction of the junk yard and there continues to be nothing. Nothing and nothing- until a strange shape is spotted, bent low against the ground.

Bruce rushes to it. It's a bike. Cold to the touch, the engine stopped long ago. His head lifts and he searches the area for signs of a crash- and finding none, resigned to the fist around his throat, Bruce props the bike up and begins pushing it through the snow- following the rope back and unwinding it along the way, bringing it with him as he heads back for the museum.]

[equinoctials]

Is your hearing getting any better?

[ Riku typically wouldn't have bothered, but there's been a visitor in the Museum. Considering how the loss of hearing in one ear is absolutely a vulnerability, Riku doesn't risk asking it aloud.

Still, he's curious. If this is one of those things that will stick around, or like the siege, something that's here and gone in a few weeks or more or-- the hallucinations. Coming and going like Riku to that cabin Quentin shared with Eliot. ]

[pearlstrings]

No. I've accepted the possibility that it's permanent.

Do you have any nerve damage from the frost?

(action) (bakcdated)

[evulsed]

[ Riku had introduced this as a game, but games have never been a thing Vanitas has taken part in without them being deadly. It doesn't mean he's nervous about hurting Bruce— it just means when he attacks, there's nothing playful about it.

He seems to drop from the ceiling, though its difficult to tell. From the corner of Bruce's eye, on his deaf side, he's just a flicker of shadow before he's leaping into the air, arm cocked back. His trajectory suggests he's going to hit Bruce across the face with a closed fist. ]

[pearlstrings]

[It was always going to be a matter of time, though if he's honest, he'd expected that Vanitas would act for first blood. Because it was Riku Bruce has been afforded a little more time to prepare. There is always a knife tucked inside his boot, a lesson learned from Selina. But he wears gear around the museum that he wouldn't otherwise. Coiled line around his forearm. He hides not just sticks and staves and rope around the house, but also home-made projectiles.

Vanitas's mood, perpetually difficult to read, requires Bruce to stay alert at all times- and it is for this reason that at just after two in the afternoon, at the end of a quiet lunch, he is not entirely blindsided by the boy that drops from overhead. The trouble is the line between instinct and conscious decision. Bruce doesn't want to tip his hand. He's been very reserved about his abilities in his time here and this sudden interest in ambushing him for a break in the monotony is not an excuse to show off.

Vanitas manifests with one arm drawn back and instead of running or freezing, Bruce turns towards him and rolls across the floor- somersaulting beneath him as he drops.]

[equinoctials]

[ Riku's transformation hit while he was out running an errand, now he's concerned that he'll damage something important - or... honestly, someone important - and hasn't yet returned for the afternoon. Now that he's heard of others experiencing issues as well and isn't compelled to ask for any reasons but his own. ]

Bruce, how is your lantern? How do you feel?
Are you alright?

[equinoctials]

If your lantern starts giving off a green light, you're going to have hallucinations. You might hurt someone.
Someone nearly bled out in the cabin. The lighthouse has turned green too.
I need you to stop whatever you're doing and get somewhere SAFE.

@darkness

[evulsed]

Bruce

[pearlstrings]

Hello Vanitas.

—text, private / @parker

[webshoots]

Sooo, this portal of yours.

Made any more headway with it?

[pearlstrings]

Admittedly I've been somewhat preoccupied.

But if you're planning to make ill-advised decisions at the market I'm all ears.

feb 1/2

[evulsed]

[ He finds Bruce by following the shape and weight of his darkness, the little bats that signal his presence to Vanitas solely because Vanitas is aware of them like extensions of himself. Usually, that's at the museum, but this time happenstance places them in the liminal space between the bonfire and the Invincible. The ferry, after all, draws everyone out, even the most recluse of them. ]

Hey.

[ It's not a hello so much as it's a demand for Bruce's attention when he comes up from behind. It would really nearly seem like Vanitas was ready to start a fight, if they didn't know one another. ]

[pearlstrings]

[Vanitas's voice is very distinct- it always sounds something like a warning shot. The moment before throwing the first punch. Bruce is making his way from the shore, where the new arrivals have finished disembarking and where the last of the supplies have been carried into town. It's one of the few times he's able to be seen around Beacon at large, especially in the light of the bonfire.

The hey stops him there, and Bruce doesn't freeze in place or just glance back over his shoulder. He pauses entirely, turns to look.]

Hello Vanitas.

[inthenightmods]

[After the Night Market has descended back into the lake, Bruce receives an inbox message!]

THANK YOU FOR PURCHASING ONE (1) HINT FROM DR. SCHICKSAL'S HINT-O-MATIC. YOUR PAYMENT HAS BEEN PROCESSED.

[Bruce will discover that roughly half the time he picks up any objects, they will spontaneously transforms into a bouquet of flowers! Until he puts them back down, that is. This effect will fade at the end of the month.]

[pearlstrings]

Love you too Hint-O-Matic

happy valentine's day!

[uplifters]

[ Sorry for entering the museum without permission, Bruce! Still, Clark will have left a good serving of assorted homemade chocolates in a wax paper bag tied off with a black and gold ribbon.

In neat, looping script, is the note:

Dear Bruce,

I'm real happy to have met you. Thanks for taking such good care of me that first night, and for continuing to be so kind to me after.

Happy Valentine's Day, pal!

Love,
Clark ]

@bruce

[pearlstrings]

You made chocolates.

AN ENCOUNTER WITH THE GOLEM SPIRIT

[inthenightmods]

On Tuesday, Bruce encounters an utterly enormous spirit! Resembling nothing so much as a pile of rocks, the spirit sits in the midst of the crowds, staring cheerfully out at the races. After a few moments of observation, Bruce notices it isn't just the one spirit: there's several.

Pebbles with fat little bodies and chunky limbs are piled all over the golem spirit's head and shoulders, held up so they can see the races. They're more vocal in their excitement, little peeps chirping intermittently. Soon one notices Bruce-- and then they all notice Bruce. One toots curiously-- and then another-- and then suddenly they're all chirping eagerly at him, their tiny voices barely heard over the ruckus the spirits are making.

After tolerating this for a full minute, the golem spirit grunts in irritation and shrugs their shoulders. Pay attention! The little pebbles squeak in protest, but gently turn, focusing their attention on the races again.

Re: AN ENCOUNTER WITH THE GOLEM SPIRIT

[pearlstrings]

i don't know who wrote this, but i need you to know it's been 3 days and i'm still not over the little peeps, and how fucking adorable these golem spirits are

i've known them for 10 seconds and would die for them

@riku

[equinoctials]

Did you see this?
Someone said someone in a mirror mask tried to steal their lantern.

[pearlstrings]

And it was as close as the general store?

—text, @parker

[webshoots]

I'm torn between saying 'thanks' and 'you really shouldn't have'.
But it'll sit with pride of place in my wardrobe next to my 'I'm with stupid ➡︎' t-shirt.

But as a note for next time: August 10^th.

[pearlstrings]

I have no idea what you're talking about.

@eleven | text

[savingthrows]

jane on the birthday paper

but my friends call me el

[ It comes without warning, without context. She sits in her blanket fort as she sends it, not quite understanding why it makes her hands shake, even as a weight lifts from her chest that made it a little hard to breathe.

People disappear, though. And sometimes they don't come back. And maybe it's just empty words on a screen for him, but to her, it's an entire world. Her names; the real one and the one that makes the number something else, something better. ]

[pearlstrings]

[Bruce understands the power of a name like few else do. The surname he'd inherited is stamped all over Gotham city, not as a brand, but as a cornerstone, part of the foundation to build on. It's become synonymous with blazers and ties, with fancy parties and a careless personality. There are few people close enough to him to use his first name and those that do have had to pay an unfortunate price. He continues to separate those two things even now, far enough from home that no one should know him, let alone care.

That Eleven shares this with him is not insignificant, and he knows that.
He knows that it comes with a cost.]

What would you like me to call you?

@ledzeppelin | backdated to 3/4

[cained]

( the call starts with an engine turning over, rolling into an even purr, and dean whooping like he's at a rodeo. it's obvious dean's made good on his word and gotten the car repaired. he sounds pretty damn excited about it, too. )

That, Bruce, is what satisfaction sounds like, pure and simple.

( ah, but wait. there's more. )

Her lights ain't gonna work no matter what I do, but she runs. Oh, and she talks.

( he switches the radio on. he was really hoping for, you know, music, maybe some bob seger or, hell, even rush, but beacon has other ideas. this is starting to feel like lost with the damn looping radio signal. )

Maybe you can understand HAL 9000's creepy sister, cuz I sure as hell don't.

[pearlstrings]

[There are very few people this message would come from, and the moment an engine rumbles to life on the other end, that number is narrowed to one. In the privacy of the museum Bruce smiles, a small tug at the corner of his mouth.]

Congratulations. It's a car.

[He can't say he's surprised that the lights don't work. If they did it would certainly be a first. Still- the recording that leaps out, that's what draws his attention. He reaches immediately for a notebook and begins copying down everything he hears.]

Has it been the same message this entire time?