[ The Talon is good. Even the adult version hadn't put up this much of a fight; Damian hadn't really had to work to string it up and finish it, even if the platoon had suffered heavy losses before that.
But the anger (and that is anger, radiating from it) is just enough to give Damian an upper hand, and the mask is stolen with a deft swipe of his sword-point, revealing--
Revealing a boy. Although at first glance, it's not a boy, more like the husk that Damian expects; not dessicated, but lifeless, almost like a doll whose porcelain form is dulled and crackling with age. No self-awareness in its eyes.
But then something changes in its expression once it registers the mask is gone. It backs off, and emotion floods its (his) face.
Something in his chest grows cold, seizes, and he feels sick. Damian doesn't recognize the face, doesn't know about Dick Grayson (not like Bruce knew, not like the horror his father had felt when he realized who the small assassin was), but he's never dealt well with this kind of violence against children.
It's one thing to see the assassin as a soulless shell, long dead before it became what it is. It's another to see him as a child, twisted and manipulated as they chipped away at everything that makes him human.
(Strikes too close to home.)
It -- he -- lunges for the mask, and Damian automatically dances back, instinctively engaging in the unexpected game of keep-away. ]
No. [ Denied. As uncomfortable as he is with the realization that he'd almost been about to kill a child, Damian's been raised to show no weakness, and he has no trouble with leveling a haughty stare at the other, as if daring him to try and take it back. ]
no subject
But the anger (and that is anger, radiating from it) is just enough to give Damian an upper hand, and the mask is stolen with a deft swipe of his sword-point, revealing--
Revealing a boy. Although at first glance, it's not a boy, more like the husk that Damian expects; not dessicated, but lifeless, almost like a doll whose porcelain form is dulled and crackling with age. No self-awareness in its eyes.
But then something changes in its expression once it registers the mask is gone. It backs off, and emotion floods its (his) face.
Something in his chest grows cold, seizes, and he feels sick. Damian doesn't recognize the face, doesn't know about Dick Grayson (not like Bruce knew, not like the horror his father had felt when he realized who the small assassin was), but he's never dealt well with this kind of violence against children.
It's one thing to see the assassin as a soulless shell, long dead before it became what it is. It's another to see him as a child, twisted and manipulated as they chipped away at everything that makes him human.
(Strikes too close to home.)
It -- he -- lunges for the mask, and Damian automatically dances back, instinctively engaging in the unexpected game of keep-away. ]
No. [ Denied. As uncomfortable as he is with the realization that he'd almost been about to kill a child, Damian's been raised to show no weakness, and he has no trouble with leveling a haughty stare at the other, as if daring him to try and take it back. ]
I think I'll be keeping it as a trophy.