[ He does his best to smile in return, but even Jason can tell that it is an ill-fit on his face. Probably more of a grimace than anything joyful. With slightly trembling fingers, he pulls a couple of batarangs out and follows his brother, doing his best to keep pace despite his exhaustion. That initial spike of adrenaline is still working, still keeping his limbs moving, but he doesn’t know for how much longer. Just another thing he doesn’t know, he supposes.
The moment he sees ninjas, Jason’s blood is boiling. Any trace of tiredness replaced with green fury and a sure fire aim. He’s throwing things and dodging projectiles before he even realizes it.
Jason can’t say that he’s in his body right now, not really. Instead he feels much more out of body, like someone watching from the sidelines. The boy taking out kneecaps and breaking collarbones might look like him, but these are someone else’s hands, someone else’s fists. He’s just temporarily using them.
However, when he takes some poor man’s head and twists--
The crunch of bone under those fingers feels very, very real.
Eyes wide as he’s suddenly snapped back into himself, Jason takes stumbling steps back as the man falls limp and dead in front of him. Vision tilting wildly, he swings around for the sight of his brother in all of this mess, the blood on his hands more than metaphorical right now. And—there. Grabbing a handful of smoke pellets from the belt, he throws them to the ground, diving under and over to latch on to his brothers arm and pull, getting them away from all the bloodshed and his own crimes. ]
no subject
The moment he sees ninjas, Jason’s blood is boiling. Any trace of tiredness replaced with green fury and a sure fire aim. He’s throwing things and dodging projectiles before he even realizes it.
Jason can’t say that he’s in his body right now, not really. Instead he feels much more out of body, like someone watching from the sidelines. The boy taking out kneecaps and breaking collarbones might look like him, but these are someone else’s hands, someone else’s fists. He’s just temporarily using them.
However, when he takes some poor man’s head and twists--
The crunch of bone under those fingers feels very, very real.
Eyes wide as he’s suddenly snapped back into himself, Jason takes stumbling steps back as the man falls limp and dead in front of him. Vision tilting wildly, he swings around for the sight of his brother in all of this mess, the blood on his hands more than metaphorical right now. And—there. Grabbing a handful of smoke pellets from the belt, he throws them to the ground, diving under and over to latch on to his brothers arm and pull, getting them away from all the bloodshed and his own crimes. ]
Damian, come on, hurry--!