damian has met his father. had spent a brief period of time working beside him, albeit with significant hesitance on bruce's part. but he's also familiar with tommy elliot's replica of his father's face, knows the difference in how he holds his expressions, the minute details that don't quite match up that most wouldn't recognize. but he also knows his father well enough to identify the man in a crowd despite only having heard of him. he'd never seen his father's face, until talia had pulled up the cameras and asked damian to tell her which one among all the rich socialites was the one who had fathered him.
it's why, when he hears his name, there's a pause. a moment where his brows furrow, where he's squinting at the man under his mask to try and discern what, exactly, is going on here. because his features aren't quite right, but they're not that of thomas elliot, nor some pathetic half-done copy. it could be clayface. perhaps elliot has upped his acting game, despite him knowing it's worthless with damian.
he takes a step forward. then another. damian's shoulders remain tight, limbs braced like he's ready to attack should it become necessary. but until then - )
( Identity yourself, he says, and Bruce just... stares.
Why would he need to do such a thing? Why would he question why he's in Wayne Tower as if he shouldn't be? Why... is he so much smaller?
Bruce is left completely dumbfounded β unable to give anything in terms of a response and he tries so very hard to stop his mind from quickly putting the pieces before him together. He doesn't want to solve this β doesn't want to even consider what he's quickly coming to as a possibility with this situation here. Etraya has taken people from here just as it's brought them in. Allowed them to keep memories of time spent here, just as it's denied them that as well. Etraya is capable of things he didn't think were possible, but they so rarely seemed to genuinely affect him.
Maybe this is just like with his mother. A ruse. A sick joke. A means to torment him and pull some sort of reaction out of him for whatever so-called mission they might be leading up. Maybe it's for extra points or some forced means to make up with someone here. All these scenarios run through his head, but he can't help circling back to the one he doesn't want to think possible or the most likely. )
( it's not an answer to the question damian had very clearly asked, and it irritates him beyond measure. he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, giving an irritated little tt in response to the man not giving him what he had asked for, but. )
You did not throw me to the ground hard enough to injure me, idiot. My memory is unaffected. ( because what else could that inquiry be implying? )
I asked you to identify yourself. Are you refusing? ( he knows. some part of him connects the dots long before damian thinks he's willing to accept it. his father was dead, not all that long after he'd met him. or "dead" dead. drake's theory is he's currently stuck in the past, and his theory has been proven to be closer and closer to the truth the deeper they dig into it. )
( Idiot, he calls him. Not father and thatβs more or less all the confirmation he needs for his suspicions β the last piece of the puzzle his mind had so frantically been putting together: this isnβt Damian.
It is, but not the one heβd met via the shadowy halls of the manor some year and a couple months ago. Not the one who had so stubbornly forced his way into both his tower and life here in Etraya and made him see what it meant to have a Robin at his side. To have a son he never knew he would have and what it meant to be a father figure to one of supposedly many who will come into his life at some point. Maybe. Not the one he held when Dick had died or his nightmares had tore him from sleep. Not the one he tore the modifications out of the Batmobile to make a second seat for. Not the one who stayed with him in bed when he felt he couldnβt get out after the tragedy had happened with the twisted version of his mother. Not the one who rebuked the role of Robin and stormed off after that last fight together. The last time he had seen him. The last time they had spoke.
This is Damian Wayneβ¦ but itβs not the one he came to trust and love like his own.
Heβs seconds away from a panic attack and he needs to reel it in before it hits him. Alfred, Selina, Clark, Damian. People he cares for and are no longer in his life for the moment and heβs wondering if his being here in Etraya is a means to show him how alone he really is. How the price for vengeance and being Gothamβs dark knight comes in the form of loneliness.
Swallowing, he shakes his head β grips at the back of the closest chair and turns. He canβt deal with this. His heart is pounding in his chest, slow and heavy, and itβs beginning to be the only thing he can hear. )
( i never really got to know him. i didn't have enough time. and what little i did. . . spent in anger. . . in pretending i didn't care. . .
it hadn't been all that long since his conversation with grayson. maybe that's part of the issue, here. grayson's reassurances that his father, when he returned, would be ready for yet another change - this time involving damian himself. damian had said if, not when, and he'd been rebuked. it wasn't that he didn't believe, because he did. it's that the place he had worked so hard to create for himself was one his father hadn't wanted him in. he hadn't wanted damian to be robin. hadn't known how to deal with him. damian doesn't necessarily blame him for that: he knows who he is and how obstinate he'd been in his effort to prove himself worthy. it'd taken someone with a little more tolerance to give him the robin costume, to train him and teach him how to be robin. to learn the quips and smart remarks, to temper himself down and learn restraint.
drake had recently spoiled it for him. had shown him that no matter how hard he tries, they will never trust him.
part of him wants to push right passed this man and tell him that this tower is his as much as it is bruce's, it has his name on it. it was him who had put the company's finances back in order in bruce's absence. damian who had done all the paperwork. damian who had worked so hard to be better to earn his place here.
and it's damian standing here right now, face scrunched up tight. he isn't close to crying, damian doesn't do that. but he tempers himself down. lowers his voice. takes a step forward so when the cloak shifts with his weight, he can grab onto it to wrap it around himself without it being too obvious.
a replica out to get something wouldn't tell him to leave. )
( The reality of this situation hits him like a subway train and he's left feeling unbalanced, disoriented, and spiraling in a way he'd only just come back from when Alfred had been injured by the Riddler's attempt on Bruce Wayne's life, but. Even then, this somehow feels worse.
His heart continues to beat in his ears. Sometimes quick, sometimes slow, it's difficult for him to discern. Fingers gripping for dear life at the back of the chair as he looks around. The room isn't spinning but he can't help but feel on edge. He goes to take a breath β lets his eyes fall shut. He needs to ground himself β needs to bring his awareness back into himself and the room he's standing within, but it's difficult and he's struggling and it's making his chest grow tight.
This isn't fear attacking him. No. This is heartbreak.
Pushing himself away from the chair, it's then that he hears Damian β hears what he calls him and he... can't look to him β can only just barely make his way for the stairs. )
( he's still behind bruce, closer to the window than the man in front of him. watching as he grips onto the chair as if his life depends on it, observing as his eyes squeeze shut and he - it's not an expression he would consider to be normal for the man in front of him, but it's not as if damian has enough knowledge of the man his father was to truly make that distinction. their time together was short, and often spent with damian finding new ways to irritate the man.
there's a demand. a louder get out this time than the last, and damian has never been one to blindly follow orders but it's the way bruce says it that has him considering following along. it reminds him of his first time in wayne manor: how angry he'd been to have been abandoned, how pennyworth and his father locking him into the room with minimal access to the outside world had felt so demeaning, how much he'd yelled and screamed until bruce wayne had finally broken enough to yell at him. it'd been enough to throw him off balance, because he wasn't accustomed to that tone coming from someone who was meant to be - above him.
it's why now, when bruce makes demands of damian and he doesn't know how to respond to it in an indignant manner without it being too much, damian just - )
Understood.
( a step back, and another until he can feel the wall behind him. damian twists around and grabs onto the window sill, raising himself up and onto it until he can drop himself out of it. it's a bit of a fall, but it's nothing he hasn't managed before. )
( It's only when Damian takes his leave that the dam within him finally breaks.
Rather than head for the stairs as he'd been intending to, he pivots β hands knocking every single thing on the table there to the floor, the sound practically ricocheting off the walls. As when Alfred had been out in the hospital, everything within him comes out in a fit of rage and heartbreak and he takes it out on the penthouse and his surroundings. The table is shoved across the room β things clattering to and smashing on the ground. A glass is thrown against the wall, books and journals tossed across the room, his guitar kicked over and a bookcase tipped over to the floor. The sound that leaves him is pained and filled with a rage he only ever displays on the streets at times. But more than that, it's one of heartache and there being no place for it to go and so he tries to punch his way through it via the destruction of the penthouse or at least the room he's currently in.
Breathing heavy, he stumbles for the stairs and lets himself fall to them, hand grasping the one above his head where his brow presses to and he forces his eyes to shut β tries to will the tears away he can feel coming, but. No matter how many criminals he faces on the streets, no matter how many times he flees GCPD, no matter how many beatings he takes, he's still just a man beneath the mask and his heart is just as capable of breaking as anyone else's.
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no subject
damian has met his father. had spent a brief period of time working beside him, albeit with significant hesitance on bruce's part. but he's also familiar with tommy elliot's replica of his father's face, knows the difference in how he holds his expressions, the minute details that don't quite match up that most wouldn't recognize. but he also knows his father well enough to identify the man in a crowd despite only having heard of him. he'd never seen his father's face, until talia had pulled up the cameras and asked damian to tell her which one among all the rich socialites was the one who had fathered him.
it's why, when he hears his name, there's a pause. a moment where his brows furrow, where he's squinting at the man under his mask to try and discern what, exactly, is going on here. because his features aren't quite right, but they're not that of thomas elliot, nor some pathetic half-done copy. it could be clayface. perhaps elliot has upped his acting game, despite him knowing it's worthless with damian.
he takes a step forward. then another. damian's shoulders remain tight, limbs braced like he's ready to attack should it become necessary. but until then - )
Identify yourself.
no subject
Why would he need to do such a thing? Why would he question why he's in Wayne Tower as if he shouldn't be? Why... is he so much smaller?
Bruce is left completely dumbfounded β unable to give anything in terms of a response and he tries so very hard to stop his mind from quickly putting the pieces before him together. He doesn't want to solve this β doesn't want to even consider what he's quickly coming to as a possibility with this situation here. Etraya has taken people from here just as it's brought them in. Allowed them to keep memories of time spent here, just as it's denied them that as well. Etraya is capable of things he didn't think were possible, but they so rarely seemed to genuinely affect him.
Maybe this is just like with his mother. A ruse. A sick joke. A means to torment him and pull some sort of reaction out of him for whatever so-called mission they might be leading up. Maybe it's for extra points or some forced means to make up with someone here. All these scenarios run through his head, but he can't help circling back to the one he doesn't want to think possible or the most likely. )
What's the last thing you remember?
no subject
You did not throw me to the ground hard enough to injure me, idiot. My memory is unaffected. ( because what else could that inquiry be implying? )
I asked you to identify yourself. Are you refusing? ( he knows. some part of him connects the dots long before damian thinks he's willing to accept it. his father was dead, not all that long after he'd met him. or "dead" dead. drake's theory is he's currently stuck in the past, and his theory has been proven to be closer and closer to the truth the deeper they dig into it. )
no subject
It is, but not the one heβd met via the shadowy halls of the manor some year and a couple months ago. Not the one who had so stubbornly forced his way into both his tower and life here in Etraya and made him see what it meant to have a Robin at his side. To have a son he never knew he would have and what it meant to be a father figure to one of supposedly many who will come into his life at some point. Maybe. Not the one he held when Dick had died or his nightmares had tore him from sleep. Not the one he tore the modifications out of the Batmobile to make a second seat for. Not the one who stayed with him in bed when he felt he couldnβt get out after the tragedy had happened with the twisted version of his mother. Not the one who rebuked the role of Robin and stormed off after that last fight together. The last time he had seen him. The last time they had spoke.
This is Damian Wayneβ¦ but itβs not the one he came to trust and love like his own.
Heβs seconds away from a panic attack and he needs to reel it in before it hits him. Alfred, Selina, Clark, Damian. People he cares for and are no longer in his life for the moment and heβs wondering if his being here in Etraya is a means to show him how alone he really is. How the price for vengeance and being Gothamβs dark knight comes in the form of loneliness.
Swallowing, he shakes his head β grips at the back of the closest chair and turns. He canβt deal with this. His heart is pounding in his chest, slow and heavy, and itβs beginning to be the only thing he can hear. )
Get out. Leave.
no subject
it hadn't been all that long since his conversation with grayson. maybe that's part of the issue, here. grayson's reassurances that his father, when he returned, would be ready for yet another change - this time involving damian himself. damian had said if, not when, and he'd been rebuked. it wasn't that he didn't believe, because he did. it's that the place he had worked so hard to create for himself was one his father hadn't wanted him in. he hadn't wanted damian to be robin. hadn't known how to deal with him. damian doesn't necessarily blame him for that: he knows who he is and how obstinate he'd been in his effort to prove himself worthy. it'd taken someone with a little more tolerance to give him the robin costume, to train him and teach him how to be robin. to learn the quips and smart remarks, to temper himself down and learn restraint.
drake had recently spoiled it for him. had shown him that no matter how hard he tries, they will never trust him.
part of him wants to push right passed this man and tell him that this tower is his as much as it is bruce's, it has his name on it. it was him who had put the company's finances back in order in bruce's absence. damian who had done all the paperwork. damian who had worked so hard to be better to earn his place here.
and it's damian standing here right now, face scrunched up tight. he isn't close to crying, damian doesn't do that. but he tempers himself down. lowers his voice. takes a step forward so when the cloak shifts with his weight, he can grab onto it to wrap it around himself without it being too obvious.
a replica out to get something wouldn't tell him to leave. )
Father.
no subject
His heart continues to beat in his ears. Sometimes quick, sometimes slow, it's difficult for him to discern. Fingers gripping for dear life at the back of the chair as he looks around. The room isn't spinning but he can't help but feel on edge. He goes to take a breath β lets his eyes fall shut. He needs to ground himself β needs to bring his awareness back into himself and the room he's standing within, but it's difficult and he's struggling and it's making his chest grow tight.
This isn't fear attacking him. No. This is heartbreak.
Pushing himself away from the chair, it's then that he hears Damian β hears what he calls him and he... can't look to him β can only just barely make his way for the stairs. )
I said get out!
no subject
there's a demand. a louder get out this time than the last, and damian has never been one to blindly follow orders but it's the way bruce says it that has him considering following along. it reminds him of his first time in wayne manor: how angry he'd been to have been abandoned, how pennyworth and his father locking him into the room with minimal access to the outside world had felt so demeaning, how much he'd yelled and screamed until bruce wayne had finally broken enough to yell at him. it'd been enough to throw him off balance, because he wasn't accustomed to that tone coming from someone who was meant to be - above him.
it's why now, when bruce makes demands of damian and he doesn't know how to respond to it in an indignant manner without it being too much, damian just - )
Understood.
( a step back, and another until he can feel the wall behind him. damian twists around and grabs onto the window sill, raising himself up and onto it until he can drop himself out of it. it's a bit of a fall, but it's nothing he hasn't managed before. )
no subject
Rather than head for the stairs as he'd been intending to, he pivots β hands knocking every single thing on the table there to the floor, the sound practically ricocheting off the walls. As when Alfred had been out in the hospital, everything within him comes out in a fit of rage and heartbreak and he takes it out on the penthouse and his surroundings. The table is shoved across the room β things clattering to and smashing on the ground. A glass is thrown against the wall, books and journals tossed across the room, his guitar kicked over and a bookcase tipped over to the floor. The sound that leaves him is pained and filled with a rage he only ever displays on the streets at times. But more than that, it's one of heartache and there being no place for it to go and so he tries to punch his way through it via the destruction of the penthouse or at least the room he's currently in.
Breathing heavy, he stumbles for the stairs and lets himself fall to them, hand grasping the one above his head where his brow presses to and he forces his eyes to shut β tries to will the tears away he can feel coming, but. No matter how many criminals he faces on the streets, no matter how many times he flees GCPD, no matter how many beatings he takes, he's still just a man beneath the mask and his heart is just as capable of breaking as anyone else's.
And like his heart, he breaks. )