Dick Grayson hates to be still; in fact at times ever cell in his body clamors for action. Even in his sleep, he is often in constant motion. The only thing that can help is if he has something or someone to hold on to. When Dick has something to hold on to it anchors him because it feels like grabbing the fly bar or the hands of the catcher. Having nothing to hold on to at feels like the space between where being still results in a fall. To Dick Grayson possessing velocity is like flight. However the type of flight that Grayson lives with each beat of his heart is not the kind of flight of birds or bats. It is the flight of tree dwellers such as monkey’s and sugar gliders. It is flight with purpose and direction; leaping from one perch to another. Flight where finding purchase is like coming home but where without direction holds the dread of falling and crashing.
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