Chapter Text
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Her eyes had a sleepy sort of quality, the kind where you could never tell if she was disinterested in you or just life in general. A fact that did not change, even as Alia opened her eyes and looked around a strange new environment. It was only as a pounding headache made itself clear that she finally showed some hint of being aware of her own existence. The whole ordeal was made worse by her realization that she was currently leaned up against a smelly dumpster and her jeans were probably doing nothing to protect her from the disgustingness of the floor. With a deep exhale out her nose she stood up off the unbelievably dirty ground and took stock of her surroundings. Wait, hold on. Why was Alia in a place with bad smells and dirt, actually the better question was why the hell any part of her body was touching the ground. How the fuck did she forget she was literally an angel?
When people hear the word “angel” they think of the Christian god and morality, imagine naked babies with trumpets and all that. The truth is that angels are just angels, it’s such a human habit to constantly try to rationalize everything. Alia had wings for the same reason that fish have gills, Alia floated constantly in the same manner that hummingbirds are always in motion. Her hair was white, but that happened to humans too, even if it took until old age. While her skin had a slight shimmer to it, the color was a rosy-beige. The point is, being an angel doesn’t make her special, she’s just a normal example from a (mostly) normal species. Yep, totally. That is 100% of the truth, no she’s not hiding anything shut up.
Despite the fact that it shouldn’t be the case, Alia really did need to look around eventually. The first thing she noticed was the sound of not-so-distant gunshots followed by a distinct lack of police sirens. As she moved to take a step forward she was relieved by the sensation of her spread out wings (when did that happen) pushing back against the air, at least her sudden materialization hadn’t left her mutilated in some way. She quickly folded her wings into her back to allow her to walk with more comfort and cautiously walked out of the alley. Clearly the universe took this as a sign that she’d had more than enough time to get acclimated and decided to once again annoy the hell out of her. This annoyance came in the form of a little ball of light no bigger than the palm of her hand, it spoke to her without words or a language. Instead, it seemed to emanate feelings of calm, told a story of healing, and assured her that all would be well if she followed. In response Alia merely yawned and curled her body in on itself as if trying to trick the blob into thinking she wasn’t there.
The light (she really needed to think of a name for this thing) seemed undeterred by her obvious disinterest and started happily fluttering about, moving out of the alley and into the street. Alia followed at a slow pace, clearly having no sense of urgency or wonder about where the hell she was. In her defense she can’t die, at least not in the human sense of the word, and as such decided she had no reason to really pay attention. She continued to float (not literally) after the ball until it led her to an abandoned creepy greenhouse. On her way she passed men with shifty eyes, groups of people carrying not-so-concealed weapons, and even hopped over a distinctly human shaped indent in the ground. Despite this, the first time her expression changed was as she gazed at the plant nursery. A subtle hint of happiness overcame her face, a spark coming to her eyes as her lips curved slightly upwards. Suddenly, she no longer looked like an angel above everyone else, but rather a 12 year old girl.
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Alia walked straight through the front door, ignoring the fact that there was probably a reason why they didn’t feel the need to lock it. The inside of the greenhouse resembled a jungle, the large space was filled with lush trees and an abundance of different types of flowers and grass. It was a weird mix of abandoned and taken care of, while the plants thrived, all of the tools had thick layers of rust over them and the walkway was so overgrown you could only see hints of concrete poking through every couple of feet. It was wild and Alia loved it. She damn near squealed in delight as she lay in the soft grass as Sprout, the newly-named light, flitted beside her. All of this adventuring has tired her out and the smell of plants and nature is so calming, so surely no one will mind if she takes a nap. As soon as she makes up her mind she makes her over to a lovely willow tree and lays beneath it. It barely takes 5 minutes for her breathing to slow and her eyes to blink closed.
As she sleeps a woman with green skin and red hair watches her from the shadows. Normally anyone who stepped foot in her territory would be immediately thrown out, or worse, but something about the strange child made her pause. It was more than just her obvious meta (or alien or whatever the hell was happening these days) status, no what made her pause was how nature seemed to curl protectively around her. Every plant from the smallest blades of grass to the leaves on the tallest trees seemed to bend protectively around her as though she was one of their own. Pamela decides right then and there that no harm shall come to this child, after all if the plants approve then who is she to decide otherwise. However, she knows that realistically Gotham is such a shithole that being “safe” is basically impossible and she’s not gonna spend all of her time watching over the kid like some kind of guardian angel. No, what this stray child needs is a guard dog, luckily she knows just where to find one.
When Alia wakes up from her quick(?) nap it takes her a couple of seconds to figure out why. A tickling sensation prompts her to look at her feet, where a vine is touching her. She knows for a fact that wasn’t there earlier, and neither was the path lined with rose buds leading out of the greenhouse. Alia looks up through the clear ceiling and is hit with the realization that it’s already dark out. She has no way of actually knowing how long she was asleep for but when she first made her way into the nursery the sun was high in the sky. Bringing her attention back to the roses, Alia knows that the smart thing to do would be to get away from whatever being is trying to lure her into its trap. So that's what she did. She walked out, went to the police station, got put into a safe foster home, and nothing of consequence ever happened. Just kidding, as mentioned before it's pretty damn hard to kill her and Sprout seemed overjoyed at the path, already dancing down it.
Alia followed the roses out of the greenhouse, and as the grass turned to concrete the roses transitioned into tree roots and flowers (or maybe they were weeds) directing her somewhere. If she thought the streets were shady before, the blatant thugs she was seeing now made it look like a picnic on the sun. The few people who were out after dark were heavily armed and looked over their shoulders constantly, none of them stopped to question what a child was doing on the street at night. Nevertheless, Alia maintained an unamused borderline sleepy expression. In fact she appeared so inattentive that the street criminals were steering clear of her because they assumed that anyone walking Gotham’s streets at night on their own without a care in the world is surely dangerous and not worth the trouble. The plants continued to lead Alia into crappier and crappier neighborhoods until she was standing on a street that could only be described as looking like a post-apocalyptic war zone. Her cynical musings of if the robots or the humans had won was cut off by a hand grabbing her by the arm and pulling her into an alley.
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Now at this point you may be concerned about the fact that no one has noticed that there is someone walking around who literally has wings on their back, and as crazy as Gotham is, there is a reason why. The thing with humans is that people only see what they believe to be conceivable, meaning that people have a tendency to look right into the eyes of the supernatural and deny deny deny. Only people who have fully accepted how bendable reality is and are desensitized to all of the universe's crazy crap are able to see the truth.
That fact meant that the grubby man who is currently gripping her arm with his filthy hands should have no reason to be doing so. Alia narrows her eyes as she is hit with the foul stench of alcohol. The man practically reeks of it, among other unsavory things. He’s tall, at least 5’11, so he’s got Alia’s 5’2 beat. On top of that although he appears out of shape, he’s clearly got some muscles hidden beneath his beer belly and weirdly hairy arms. The gun he’s holding to her head also helps. So yeah, all in all if Alia were anyone else she would be shitting bricks right about now. “So…” Alia says in such a monotone voice that it clearly shocks Grubby. She makes eye contact with him and she looks so tired that Grubby looks damn near ready to apologize.
“Shut the fuck up!” Grubby whisper screams in her face, some of his spit goes flying and Alia grimaces at the grossness of this whole situation. “Don’t say a word or I’ll blow your brain out. If you behave I might make sure that your sold in one of the more “classy” trafficking rings.” He says the words with a smile as if he’s telling some inside joke, and Alia blames the hint of remorse she thought she saw earlier on her inexperience with humans. Just as she’s readying her foot to kick Grubby where the sun doesn’t shine and mushrooms are surely growing, someone lands in the alley with a thud. Now, Alia isn’t a human expert, but she’s pretty sure they aren’t supposed to jump from roofs. The figure makes quick work of disarming Grubby by doing some insane highkick, and then swiftly shoots him in both of his kneecaps. The whole thing happened so fast the Grubby is on the floor with his gun accross the alley before Alia even got a chance to laugh at his stupid-looking mask.
She blinks owlishly at the man (and he’s clearly a man because he’s built like a damn fridge) and immediately decides that she is adopting him. “Take me home,” she demands as Stupid Mask looks down at her.
“Uh, okay kid. Whatever you want. Where do you live? I can walk you home.” Clearly the man is confused and needs clearer instructions. Alia, the angel she is (haha get it), gladly helps him.
“No.” Alia utters the word with the petulance only a teenager can conjure and then refuses to specify further. Stupid Mask appears stunned into muteness at that, and they share a solid minute of complete silence. When it becomes clear Stupid Mask is living up to his name Alia sighs and states, “Take me to your home. I’m your new daughter.”