Damian Wayne | First Son (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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dreamsanddisasters2014-08-21 12:12 am
dfordangerous) wrote in dreamsanddisasters2014-08-21 12:12 am
Entry tags:
Age Reversal AU (For Batfam)
[ His father is dead, and he's still reeling from the shock. Alfred and Tim both know he's barely keeping it together, for all his standoffish composure. Years of preparing for this moment--
(steeling himself, to watch his father be laid to rest next to his grandparents)
--have done little to offset the grief. He wouldn't be seen at all if it weren't for his brother; if Tim hadn't coerced him out of his room in the hours following the funeral, hadn't confessed his worries for Cass (retreated, to the attic of all places), Jason (god, Jason, Damian's own cunning little húlí, he'd adored the man), and his father's newest stray, Richard. Dick. His father's Robin.
His Robin, now. As strange as the thought is. But the cowl is his, and so is Robin.
His Robin, who Alfred has informed him is currently making his roost up in the ballroom's chandeliers. Refusing to come down.
Damian, briefly, contemplates leaving him up there in favor of finishing reviewing this case file.
('He'll come down when he gets hungry,' he tells Alfred.
'He's in mourning, Master Damian,' Alfred points out, with all the dry chastisement his stiff upper lip can give.
'I'll get the broom.')
And here he is. He finds himself squinting in irritation up at the boy monkeying around on the fragile, expensive crystal. ]
Richard. [ Prim, clipped tones. Damian hardly raises his voice unless his fuse is blown; usually only when he's locked in a shouting match with Tim or with his father.
He doesn't know Richard that well. The boy is a relatively fresh arrival, and the past few months he's been here have seen Damian on longer missions; international and galactic trips alike. Before Bruce's death, they had maybe spent only a few hours in each other's company, and the boy was clearly not overly fond of him. ]
What are you doing?
(steeling himself, to watch his father be laid to rest next to his grandparents)
--have done little to offset the grief. He wouldn't be seen at all if it weren't for his brother; if Tim hadn't coerced him out of his room in the hours following the funeral, hadn't confessed his worries for Cass (retreated, to the attic of all places), Jason (god, Jason, Damian's own cunning little húlí, he'd adored the man), and his father's newest stray, Richard. Dick. His father's Robin.
His Robin, now. As strange as the thought is. But the cowl is his, and so is Robin.
His Robin, who Alfred has informed him is currently making his roost up in the ballroom's chandeliers. Refusing to come down.
Damian, briefly, contemplates leaving him up there in favor of finishing reviewing this case file.
('He'll come down when he gets hungry,' he tells Alfred.
'He's in mourning, Master Damian,' Alfred points out, with all the dry chastisement his stiff upper lip can give.
'I'll get the broom.')
And here he is. He finds himself squinting in irritation up at the boy monkeying around on the fragile, expensive crystal. ]
Richard. [ Prim, clipped tones. Damian hardly raises his voice unless his fuse is blown; usually only when he's locked in a shouting match with Tim or with his father.
He doesn't know Richard that well. The boy is a relatively fresh arrival, and the past few months he's been here have seen Damian on longer missions; international and galactic trips alike. Before Bruce's death, they had maybe spent only a few hours in each other's company, and the boy was clearly not overly fond of him. ]
What are you doing?
it's the small victories
Someone left the door unlocked. [Trying to play it cool, but hurried and rushed, the stolen key feeling like it was burning a hole in its pocket.]
Can I hang around here until Tim comes home? We could watch a movie or something! Tim has most of the good ones anyway and it's way more cool here than it is at the Manor. Dami's room mostly has fancy swords and stuff hanging on the wall.