etrayalogs | ( closed ) bred, born, and raised to kick your ass

( there's a moment where it seems as if he might be considering that. please, damian uses and he finds himself feeling... some sort of way when he hears that. doesn't turn to face him. not yet, anyways. lets his gaze linger there on the keyboard he stands in front of. the word that leaves his lips— the question that leaves his lips still soft yet deep in the back of his throat. )

Why?

( he just... can't help but ask. )

Why did you want to see my eyes?

( he is more than the son of batman, he's the son of bruce wayne, a child of the league of assassins, heir to two kingdoms. he wants to see the face of the man who may one day father him, or another version of him, or - something along those lines.

damian isn't wearing his mask. it's only fair. )

( he knows what he's getting at. what he's wanting to look for in his face it's just... he doesn't know if it's a good idea. if it'll just make things more complicated, more difficult... disappointing for damian. because, again. he has nothing to compare or to miss, but damian does. very much.

it's after another stretch of silence where it might come off as bruce ignoring damian's request— ignoring him, when he begins to remove his gloves, sets them down on the keyboard. hands covered in white bandages, back still facing damian. hands coming up, he pulls the cowl off his head. slow. strands of hair sticking up a little here and there as he does.

holding to the cowl, he looks down to it. swallows. then turns some to look back to damian with those bright blue eyes not as hidden as they somehow seem to be when he wears the cowl. greasepaint smeared, tips of his fingers black from it. gaze settled more on damian's figure before he lets it raise to meet those green eyes with his own blue. blues that are filled with a sorrow— an anger and pain that still seems so very raw. )

Happy?

Edited 2024-04-04 22:53 (UTC)

( eyes trace over bruce's features, looking for ones familiar to him: the shape of his nose, ears, the curve of his jawline. he's long since realized that bruce wayne has become more a mask for his father than the cowl itself. that he's more himself when he's batman and always has been. damian bothers less with the mask than the others have: as damian wayne, he's still a haughty teenager, clever enough to take his father's place at the head of wayne industries during his absences. he's learned to temper himself down when filling in the role of bruce wayne's long lost son rather than robin, son of batman. his mask is less obvious, but still present: damian is more himself when he's robin. but it's his father's features that he recognized before even having met him: the false smile he wore on his face, the posture that read he was intentionally making himself loose, making it appear he was off guard when he was always prepared for anything. the shape of his eyes, and the way his smile didn't quite reach them. the carefully curated face, meant to mask who he truly was under it.

there is no mask here.

this man is young. perhaps not nearly as young as damian, and just a little older than grayson, but young for what damian has become accustomed to when it comes to the man behind the cowl. he studies him for several moments, head tipped back to look him over. not reaching for him, but just - looking. for what, even damian's not quite certain.

it takes him a while before he answers bruce. )

You're old enough to have theoretically fathered me. ( roughly thirty, he would say. the tabloids would have loved the story behind that. damian isn't concerned about it, more for what they could reasonably stick with here. his mouth presses together tight for a moment before he raises a hand to offer it out. ) Damian Wayne.

( he lets damian inspect him. look for the version of the man he knows as his father in his face. his features. his eyes. he knows it's what he's doing. he'd done something similar in asking to see his eyes. wanting to see if he could see some part of him in them. never mind the whole eyes being the window to ones soul and all. truth be told, when he'd discovered the results of the blood and hair test to his own, he'd considered it tampered. purposefully done by this place, considering the games it seems to want to put those who have found themselves here through. there's still some small part of him that hasn't completely ruled that possibility out, but. it's not as strong as it had initially been. especially when he has damian here in front of him like this.

when the hand is offered, he looks to it. silent. damian wayne. lost in various thoughts that are like rapid fire in his head. not an uncommon thing for bruce to do and it's easy to spot when he is — lost in them — if one knows him well enough. but. after a moment, he reaches out with his own, and takes damian's hand in his. grip firm yet gently careful at the same time. )

You're not worried of this potentially causing a sort of butterfly effect?

I know every suit my father has ever donned, and I do not recognize yours.

( it's likely an alternate universe thing, rather than another flashpoint incident. and, )

Regardless, he did not know of my existence until after my tenth birthday. Mother named me. The information I have given you won't change anything more than what I've already told you.

( because damian was fully raised by the league, until he was deemed ready to meet his father. he doesn't have a gothamite accent, many of his mannerisms were from his mother's side, rather than his father's. if it isn't an alternate universe, if bruce meets damian at ten still, he doubts it would change much other than him being prepared to face damian then. well. a little more than he had been originally. he doubts anything could really prepare his father for his arrival. and it's not as if he's, )

We won't be discussing Mother.

( his hand grips onto bruce's tight for a moment, before he lets go entirely. drops his own back to his side, but stays close. he's spent time before around a father who had no memory of him. a father who smiled softly when he hadn't felt the burden of the world on his shoulders. this isn't quite the same, but it's - similar enough. )

I don't need a guardian. My existence complicates things for you, and I understand that. If you're uncomfortable, we can both act as if we hadn't seen the results and continue with the mission, but I won't pretend you aren't here. I don't expect it to be the same here, but I have been Batman's partner for a few years and will not leave you to your own devices.

( the sound that leaves him is a huff, one of disbelief. )

So you don't need a guardian, but I need a shadow.

( at least, that's how he's taking it, what with the whole not leave you to your own devices comment made there. granted, it's likely why alfred constantly checks in on him. makes sure he eats, showers, sleeps. never mind tends to injuries when he'd rather just shrug them off. he's not going to ask that of damian here— not going to want that, even. not because it's alfred's place, but. he just doesn't need it. he can handle things on his own... even if this is the first he's been on his own and without alfred. it's fine. he's thirty, not thirteen. )

Batman has always needed a Robin, even if you haven't yet found yours.

( that may change things, but given the amount of robins currently running rampant around etraya, he sincerely doubts it'd be kept under wraps for long. bruce isn't wrong - damian declared he's fine on his own, but bruce isn't. perhaps bruce doesn't see it that way, but he'll understand. he may have brought grayson on for grayson's own good as he saw it initially, but robin's job has always been to balance out batman. )

And I am not the only Robin here. If you try to avoid my following you, I can assure you that you'll only have more annoyances on your tail.

( though he does offer what he is assuming may be a comforting, )

I am your only blood son. ( that any of them are aware of anyway. ) But not the only one who has occupied space under this roof.

( again, he huffs. much as he would to alfred and his nagging at him to go out and be bruce wayne for a bit. )

I don't need to be followed and I don't need a Robin. I've done just fine on my own.

( he takes his cowl, gloves tucked under an arm, and eyes damian before he walks away from the computer there. well. "computer" as it stands. letting himself focus on the cave itself and how much different it is than what he has back in his own gotham, he keeps walking. just through it. taking it in. )

( he keeps moving, but damian doesn't. he has no need to restlessly wander around the cave, instead choosing to conserve energy and watch bruce as he does. )

Pennyworth isn't here. ( his voice is still steady, gaze focused. ) Who is going to patch over your injuries when you recklessly jump into battle? Who will remind you that you're human when you choose to pretend you aren't? You're one man. Maybe it hasn't yet by your time, but by mine, Batman has become much larger.

( he's only a little ways from damian there. stops in his wandering to look back over to him. still holding his cowl by the tips of his fingers. )

You think you're going to do that? You're a kid.

( wrong move, and it's clear from how irritated it makes damian the moment he hears it. he reaches down into his pocket, pulls out the domino mask he had taken off before bruce's arrival. eyes don't leave bruce's own. )

We're playing, Goliath, there is no need to interfere. ( his voice doesn't raise any, but the dragon bat's ears twitch and he gives a soft, low growl of acknowledgment. it's all damian needs as he sticks the mask back onto his face. looks back up to bruce once it's on. )

Say that again, I dare you. Call me a child. Tell me I'm incapable.

( he watches the way damian reassures his creature friend. the way he places the mask back over his eyes and his own narrow some as he stares the kid down. playing. right. because that's what's about to happen here. )

You want me to fight an eight year old?

( he knows damian's not eight. )

You're trying to anger me to throw me off. You can drop it, I'm not falling for it.

( but he is grabbing the grapple gun from his belt and launching the hook at the cave wall behind bruce before he's quickly yanking on it so it begins pulling him forward quickly and - raises a leg, intent on shoving his boot straight into bruce's face. )

( so they're going to do this. fine. might as well get it over with.

he anticipates the attack. drops the cowl and gloves. twists back. reaches out to grab damian's leg there with both arms. he doesn't want to hurt him. for... a number of reasons. but he's also not about to let damian wail on him however he so pleases. so he intends to be a little more defensive than offensive with his movements. at least for the moment. )

( his father takes the predictable route. catch the flying ""child"" and hold onto them so they can't do more damage. good. it's what damian wanted. which is why he lets bruce have his ankle, yanks a little harder on the grapple gun. and twists himself around so bruce either has to let damian dislocate his own ankle or loosen his hold.

he's assuming bruce won't let damian injure himself, because his father isn't a monster. and damian has yet to prove himself to be a danger to bruce himself even if that is his intention here. or part of it. because the moment bruce lets damian twist, he's going to shove his other leg over bruce's other shoulder, one arm sliding down to press under his chin while he releases the grapple gun and pulls batman into a headlock with damian sitting on his shoulders. )

( is this what is to come in his life? to have a brat of a kid putting him in a headlock while sitting atop his shoulders? he was never like this with alfred at his age. granted, while bruce wayne might have died that night his parents were murdered, the batman wasn't yet fleshed out at the time like he is now. like he's still coming to be.

a glance down, one hand claps on damian's thigh. holds to him. the other reaches up and blindly goes for his mask. intending to yank it off his face. even as he takes a step or two back, mostly in an attempt to get his footing. )

( only sometimes. not all of his children are fond of leaping up onto others, but damian finds forcing others to hold up his weight while he antagonizes him tends to work well for him. which is why he's laughing, heels of his boots digging into bruce's chest plate to make sure he doesn't fall, not that he suspects bruce would let him, but. the goal had been for bruce to scramble for him, which he is. it frees up damian's hands from needing to choke him out. )

There are numerous pressure points on one's head. I'm sure you're plenty aware - one day, you may even try to inform me of them. I had already learned them years prior, all except for one technique Father hadn't even wanted to teach me. I won't use it on you. But I could.

( a spot on his forehead, where if he presses perfectly it would paralyze bruce temporarily. damian isn't going that hard, because this is playing.

he's not even going for the pressure points he's discussing. no, instead, damian is suddenly releasing bruce's neck, and slamming both palms directly against bruce's ears as he leans back to avoid the hand going for his face. )

Edited 2024-04-05 21:48 (UTC)

( he could flip them. land on his back and shoulders, hitting the ground, but. he worries about his weight crushing damian. or some part of him because, again. he doesn't want to harm him. regardless of his capabilities, he's still just a kid.

he throws another quick glance down. gives himself no more than three seconds to consider it. then damian's palms are slamming against his ears and he's grunting. loud. screw it. he's going for it.

one hand still holds to damian's thigh as he spins down onto his knee, grabs the end of his cape with his other hand, and throws it over damian — pulls it around him — as a means to obscure his vision. there's another spin, rotating around on his knees before he plucks a glove off the ground and pulls it on. )

( he doesn't need to see. but he's still laughing. it's bright, amused; if bruce is struggling with the fight, damian doesn't seem to mind at all, he's clearly having fun. even when bruce's weight shifts down, damian seems rather confident and comfortable where he's at. he could cut the cape, could release himself from it, but he knows how difficult it'd be to get another cape of that quality here, and this is a game.

instead, there's the sharp press of blades against bruce's cheek when damian curls his fingers in: they're coming out of his own gauntlet over his knuckles. )

You're dead. Thrice. Once when I could have slashed out your throat, once when I could have severely injured your eardrums. Once now, when I could pluck out your eyes.

( and he has to be hurting bruce's neck, given damian's now leaning forward, abdomen pressing against the back of bruce's head as he leans over it, taking away bruce's vision just as he had done to damian's own.

the leg that bruce isn't holding onto shifts, moving to dig his heel in under bruce's arm. he could flip them. he could drop damian down to the floor, but damian's now attempting to trap his arm with his leg and really - bruce can't drop all his weight onto damian, not with how they're positioned. he'd win regardless. )

( he's willing to risk getting his cheeks accidentally nicked by those blades that unexpectedly come out of damian's gauntlets. he's had worse. a lot worse than a couple cuts to the cheeks. so it's fine if it happens because he can't very well keep up these shenanigans of having a kid on his shoulders, attempting to wear him down with his weight on him from behind like it is. he's not heavy by any means, it's just... he's not exactly used to having someone on his shoulders like this. alfred would never.

another low grunt, he glances down to his hand, glances to the one glove he's managed to pull on since his other is still on the ground with his cowl somewhere, but. it's enough. it'll do. he just needs the one.

straining his neck some in an attempt to free some of the pressure off it, he huffs. )

I died a long time ago and you're grounded.

( that's when he reaches up with his other arm — the one that isn't trapped — grabs to damian's exposed neck, and presses the button on the inside of his glove, activating the taser within the fingers to shock damian. )

Edited 2024-04-05 22:17 (UTC)

( it's a good move. because as damian had said, he doesn't know this suit. he was unaware of the taser's existence within the glove, and with his head covered by the cape, he's incapable of seeing what bruce is reaching for.

fingers wrap around his neck and it's fine because this is nothing, he knows how to force a hand to release him, he had come up here prepared for bruce to swat at him. the hand he has against bruce's cheek raises to do just that, removes the pressure of blades against skin--only for the taser in the glove to go off.

but, see, being tased causes muscles to seize up, which means the leg he has around bruce's arm only tightens, the hand with the exposed blades quickly curls in, causing a few nicks against the side of bruce's face even if damian hadn't meant to.

he doesn't drop off. instead, damian curls in tighter. most would drop after the shock. damian remains immobile for a few moments longer than anticipated, but it's because he's intentionally keeping himself tense. )

( it's enough of a reaction for him and even with the way damian curls in tighter against him, he still throws himself forward, taking damian with him. it's a one-handed flip of a move he makes, twisting his body in a way that allows his other arm to free itself and grab onto damian's back. he doesn't look to try and pry him off — to throw him to the ground or even drop down onto him. maybe later, he would. but he's still not looking to hurt him — not looking to let his anger out on him as he would faceless thugs on the streets of gotham. it's different when he... not knows him, but. blood is involved here and again. he's still much younger than him.

a quick spin on his knees, he reaches up. again. presses the heel of his palm against damian's chin and pushes his head back. a means to try and pry him off. )

( goliath shuffles with a soft noise, because he's a poor listener at the best of times - but as soon as damian has gotten enough control to turn his head up, to look towards his friend, the beast gets the message: he's fine, there's still no need to come between them. it's what gives bruce the opening to shove his hand against his chin, forcing damian's head back.

fingers loosen, and he's lost the advantage of having bruce's arm trapped, too. but that's alright. damian doesn't need it. a breath in, and damian drops his upper half down easily, but shifts his legs (or, one leg, bruce still has his grip on the other so damian only moves that one as much as he's able) to wrap around bruce's neck. it puts him upside down, but he's just as comfortable like this as he is right side up.

his head twists to the side to spit out the blood from biting on the inside of his cheek, and damian drops down the hand with the extended claws. )

You haven't earned the right to ground me.

( his back arches, and damian drops his claws down to where he can see a break in bruce's armor. he's not going for a significant amount of damage, just enough to hurt. )

( when the claws pierce through the break in his suit, he bites down on the angry noise best he can that spills from his lips. he doesn't want to let that anger take control of him — doesn't want to treat damian as if he's some thug on the streets of gotham. he knows he loses control sometimes — knows he can't always hold back. so it takes everything within him from reacting out of anger.

frustration, on the other hand, well.

movements swift, he gets to his feet. twists hard. unsheathes his grapple gun and fires it off to attach to a crate there in the cave. he pulls at it. hard. ducks himself down to let damian take the brunt of the crate coming in. unless he doesn't want to. he could always let go so he doesn't. )

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