Heart Attack

Elastic Heart

I was dreaming again, but this time it wasn’t Tamaran, nor Gotham, nor even the quiet fields of Haven. It was somewhere in between — a place where two worlds overlapped like oil and water. In this liminal haze, I found myself standing outside a tent glowing faintly with lantern light, the sound of hushed voices drifting through the canvas. Inside were three familiar figures: Jason lounging carelessly with that false ease only he could manage, Tim sitting close enough to brush his shoulder but keeping his composure, and Damian — older now, sharper somehow, carrying winter in his eyes. Around them were three unfamiliar girls: a blonde with wild hair and fire in her posture, a white-haired girl whose poise screamed royalty, and a black-haired woman whose red eyes reminded me uncomfortably of Batman’s when he was dissecting someone’s soul.

“So, what’s the truth?” the blonde asked bluntly. The silence that followed was heavy enough to make me hold my breath.

“You know,” the black-haired woman — Branwen, they called her — said slowly, “it’s better when it’s hot.”

“You know you’re really obnoxious,” the white-haired girl muttered.

“She’s right — and we live with obnoxious brats,” Jason said with a lazy smirk, though I could see his hands twitching in restraint. “But lady, c’mon — spill the tea. And yes, that was a pun. You started it.”

I smiled faintly despite myself. Always Jason, finding humor in the fire.

“The truth is…” Branwen leaned back, eyes glinting. “The truth is hard to come by.”

“Color me stoked,” Tim muttered dryly. The blonde snickered; even Damian’s mouth twitched.

“We know that, Branwen,” Damian said coolly. “History is written by the winners. Perspective is all anyone gets. So please — enlighten us with your supposed wisdom.”

“You’re right,” Branwen said after a beat. “And by now, Qrow’s told Ruby and her friends plenty of stories.”

“Stop wasting time already,” Jason growled, leaning forward. His voice was calm, but the tension coiled around him like a live wire. “We came here for one thing, lady, and you’re wearing our patience thin. Like — boss babe, seriously — why shouldn’t we just shoot her in the face?”

The blonde — Yang — arched a brow. “Well, Jay, it’s ‘cause she’s my mom. And she’s the one who knows how to get to my sister.”

It clicked then — her sister must be Ruby. The resemblance burned like sunlight.

“And mom,” Yang added pointedly, “Uncle Qrow hasn’t given me a reason to doubt him before.”

“That doesn’t mean those reasons don’t exist,” Branwen countered smoothly. “You and your teammates might as well be the poster children of Huntsman academies. Your motives vary, but you all enrolled for the same reason: to make the world a better place. It’s adorable.”

Her words cut sharper than she intended. Huntsmen, Robins, Titans — all of us clung to the same childish hope. Save everyone. Carry the weight. Break and keep standing. I glanced at Jason; his jaw tightened. Tim must have sensed it too — his hand slid to Jason’s, grounding him quietly.

“It’s what Huntsmen and Huntresses do,” Yang shot back.

“Not all of them,” Branwen said. “Some are in it for the money. The fame. And there are even more who just want to grow stronger.”

“Those who seek fame through death and war are supreme idiots,” Damian interrupted icily. “But strengthening oneself? That should not be scoffed at. Seeking to make the world better may be naïve, but it’s also necessary. Humanity only defeats creatures born of fear and negativity by holding onto such ideals. Or isn’t that why you interrupted the fight you caused, with your idiotic answers and the kidnapping of Schnee?”