The Riddler ？Edward Nygma (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unriddling) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
heyfreemagic2015-07-17 02:37 pm
unriddling) wrote in heyfreemagic2015-07-17 02:37 pm
Entry tags:
¿? a new riddle
{backdated: early July.}
[There's something different in the back of Riddler's mind, now. Where his sense of technology had been (the feeling of static, of wires, of code that was almost like noise), there's a shifting chill. It reminds him of sand, of clay, of ashes.]
[With it, can create anything he likes, but the first thing he shapes is his familiar cane. Familiar enough, anyway--it's jet black rather than gold with green accents, but it's good enough. It's weighted perfectly in his hands no matter if he uses it as a scepter, as a blunt weapon, or merely only to show off how well he can spin. Being able to twirl it is surprisingly calming after going a few months without.]
[Or maybe that's everything else. He's noticed there's no hollowness to suppress and ignore; the Nox seem to have told him the truth.]
[It's dusk, and he's stalking the back streets of the slums alone, cane in hand. There aren't as many Freesia citizens here, but the ones there to watch him pass look and act a tad rougher than most. He offers the ones who stare too long smart remarks, punctuated by unpleasantly toothy grins.]
[Before long, he practically has an entourage of irate men surrounding him.]
[And not long after that, those irate men are screaming as he lets the darkness pool around him, spill over the sidewalk, and sink into the ground. He hopes they enjoy the sewers--or, more likely, the subways.]
[Riddler pauses. He can tell there's someone else in the darkness.]
Ah. One of our dear Lux's.
[This truly was a good night to test his newfound abilities.]
Tell me--what is a follower in light, but invisible at night?
[There's something different in the back of Riddler's mind, now. Where his sense of technology had been (the feeling of static, of wires, of code that was almost like noise), there's a shifting chill. It reminds him of sand, of clay, of ashes.]
[With it, can create anything he likes, but the first thing he shapes is his familiar cane. Familiar enough, anyway--it's jet black rather than gold with green accents, but it's good enough. It's weighted perfectly in his hands no matter if he uses it as a scepter, as a blunt weapon, or merely only to show off how well he can spin. Being able to twirl it is surprisingly calming after going a few months without.]
[Or maybe that's everything else. He's noticed there's no hollowness to suppress and ignore; the Nox seem to have told him the truth.]
[It's dusk, and he's stalking the back streets of the slums alone, cane in hand. There aren't as many Freesia citizens here, but the ones there to watch him pass look and act a tad rougher than most. He offers the ones who stare too long smart remarks, punctuated by unpleasantly toothy grins.]
[Before long, he practically has an entourage of irate men surrounding him.]
[And not long after that, those irate men are screaming as he lets the darkness pool around him, spill over the sidewalk, and sink into the ground. He hopes they enjoy the sewers--or, more likely, the subways.]
[Riddler pauses. He can tell there's someone else in the darkness.]
Ah. One of our dear Lux's.
[This truly was a good night to test his newfound abilities.]
Tell me--what is a follower in light, but invisible at night?
no subject
[The shadows are gone in an instant, objects smashing to the ground. The light shatters, scattering little bits of plastic and glass around.]
[Despite his lack of wings, Riddler's perched on top of a small porch roof, arms thrown up to block his facefrom the light. Fortunately, he isn't hurt more than he's startled; though his skin tingles and his eyes seem to be far more sensitive, enough that he can't see.]
[He staggers back to press himself against the wall.]
no subject
I've heard the anger, and the darkness, growing in you, Riddler. You are losing yourself. You are hurting yourself.
Please... think. Think about what is happening.
no subject
Were you listening? [His voice is back to normal now that he isn't buried within the shadows.] I thought enough. And no matter how much you talk, I don't care! There isn't a reason to!
[His hand catches on the edge of a window. It only takes a flick of a wrist before his own shadow stretches, forcing it open with a nasty screech. It wouldn't be the most graceful of exits, but that doesn't matter. He needs to gather himself elsewhere.]
no subject
I care, Riddler. That can be a reason, if you let it.
[Ugh. This is no good. She needs to get home, get into cover before the Nox can catch her.]
no subject
[Riddler shakes his head and slips into the shadows. He'll watch her go from the window before he does himself.]
no subject