tushanshu_logs

[That makes him relax, slightly. Introducing himself to his father twice was more than enough; the fact that this is not one who doesn't know him - a new one - is... reassuring.]

Is there something I can assist with?

You can talk Zatanna out of performing magic recklessly in the future.

[Oh, he mad. He is madder than hell, and although his tone is mild and could be mistaken for a jest to anyone else's ear, he doubts Damian will miss the nuances of said anger.]

I have not been lax in attempting to do so. Though I must admit that Raven's arguments might have had a better effect than mine.

[... oh, Damian isn't missing out on the anger, no. At all. Then again, he is very angry at Zatanna himself.]

[Currently eclipsed by worry about Father. He does not look in his best shape, and Damian can pick on that, as well as the fury. So he steps closer, without crowding. By now, he's master moving in this body with reasonable grace, too. And enough control to be able to convey, I am at your disposal without words.]

[His scowl deepens, but he doesn't argue. He simply nods to Damian, acknowledging that unspoken sentiment.]

We'll see.

[And for the first time, he honestly looks at Damian. The boy is unmistakably his doppelganger, but he can see Talia there too. In the eyes. And he aches, suddenly, thinking he might never see the boy grown to this age.]

Hn. You got tall.

>Tt.<

[Yes, Damian's definitely angry. Yes, he's also doing what he can to help out, if not... directly Zatanna. But he wants this resolved, so he's doing what he can.]

[The next part makes him blink, disoriented, and actually straighten up. And grump, a little.]

It is awkward, this sudden.

[Only a little. Because that is noting to the change in Father. Plus, Damian being himself, he never showed anywhere before he had reasonable control of the grown body. He would not shame anyone. And the rest of the effects... he can handle them. Honest. It would probably be more difficult if he'd aged only half a decade, or less.]

[Damian himself has taken in the old man already. And knows there is pain, and that Father will never admit to it, not in front of him, not in words and not in motion, unless he really can't help it. So Damian will do them both the favor of not hovering, even if he may come close.]

[However, not bringing that up leaves a pause even more awkward than usual, in the conversation.]

... but I shall manage.

I know you will.

[Which is. Praise? A little. Bruce's way of saying that he believes in Damian's abilities to adapt to anything. This is giving him a weird sort of dissonance, Damian's been aged up by almost as many years as Bruce has. Is this a prelude of things to come?

Bruce never expected to live this long. The idea is almost abhorrent to him. To know, to feel his body decaying around him while his mind is still sharp-- it's worse than any prison he's been in, any indignity he's born.]

You-- take very strongly after my father.

[Damian nods, accepting the praise without refuting it (which most people would get) or making more of it than it is (which Bruce might have gotten, once upon a time), but his chin does lift up a fraction of an inch, positive feedback from Father settling around him comfortably, soothing away a tiny piece of all the things that grate inside, always will.]

[Then the comparison comes, and Damian tilts his head slightly, trying to figure out what it means.]

[Thomas Wayne.]

[... as soon as he thinks the name, however, Damian's lips thin. When he thinks of that name, he can't help thinking of Hurt. Of the bullet he put in the back of Dick's skull. Of the damage he'd wrought around Gotham.]

[He knows that is not whom Father is comparing him to. From all he's learned, he knows that is one of the highest compliments Bruce might actually pay somebody of his blood.]

[So he keeps most of his reaction back. There is no flash of anger in his eyes, there is no looking down, because Hurt had wanted him. Just a slightly deeper breath, and turning his thought to something else.]

Becoming a medic was suggested as an alternative to what I do now.

[Harmless in public, and also true - Kyle did suggest that. Damian lets his shoulders rise, slightly, and then drop and settle.]

I think it would remind me of Mother too much.

[Perhaps it's because the boy is physically older, but Bruce honestly feels more at ease with him like this. He has no idea what to do with the child, save leaving him to better men.]

Damian-- despite who you mother may have become, I loved her once. And she was worthy of that love. I'm sorry you've only ever seen the worst of her, but if being a medic would remind you of her, consider that the first time I met her, she tended my wounds.

[Maybe it's easier... it certainly allows them to be a trifle more direct. Though a part of Damian is thinking directly back to their first conversation, here in Keeliai. It was about Talia, too.]

I suppose it may make a difference, how many times you have woken up, floating in a reservoir, surrounded by other bodies doing the same - knowing they will never wake up.

She has saved my life, yes. But I am not sure that the cost for that aligns with what I do, anymore.

[There are things Damian didn't use to understand, especially when Bruce last knew him, before Keeliai. He's had a lot of time to think them over, since.]

[Though his words were less sharp and more thoughtful, just now. The information about his parents' first meeting? A part of him can't help feeling it like a gift.]

[Oh, it's happened once or twice, though not at Talia's hands. Bruce says nothing for a moment, merely adjusts his grip on his cane.]

Damian, what do you know of Nyssa Raatko?

[Damian frowns in an expression of thoughtfulness that is very much like the one on his preteen face.]

I have not been given direct information, and I probably should have looked her up, after coming to Gotham, but, from what I could piece together from various hints and suggestions... She ran the ... family enterprise alongside Mother when Grandfather was incapacitated.

[That's neutral enough for the street, right?]

Is that correct?

She's your aunt.

[Bruce wishes that speaking in code were as simple as switching to dead languages, but for that damned translation. Instead, he lets that sentiment speak for him, and he tilts his hand just slightly to indicate perhaps that Damian should take him home, where it's soundproofed, before they continue.]

[Yes, that does result in a moment of. Thoughtfulness. And then Damian makes a small motion, indicating the direction of his home, and then Father's, to ask which way.]

[He'll walk close by the old man's side, ready to catch him in case he falters, but not offering his arm unless asked.]

[He's... going to take the time to process the change in the power play in the family that no longer considers him theirs that the new information has introduced.]

[Bruce gives his head a barely perceptible shake, and continues back towards the Metal Sector. Damian's is perhaps a little closer (roughly three hundred and forty six meters closer) but Bruce is more assured of the security of his own.

The walk in relative silence, and when they reach the stairs leading up to his door, he holds a hand to allow Damian to go first. The boy has a key.]

[Considering the proximity to one Anthony Edward Stark, that is probably a safer bet, even with grave efforts on Damian's part.]

[And that's even discounting the guests who may or may not be at home at the moment. Probably 'home' in the case of de-aged Makoto, at least. But Damian had to offer, considering Father's current state.]

[Damian's careful unlocking the door, both because a part of his attention is making sure Bruce's reserves don't run just this close - and because it's not exactly at all unlikely that there are new safety measures. Especially considering that Father left the suite in his current physical shape - therefore likely not in the best of moods.]

[It doesn't take long for them to be inside, though, and Damian takes a moment to readjust his perspective. His height makes much more of a difference indoors, it seems. His voice - or topic of conversation - betray nothing of discomfort, however. Or distraction.]

You brought up my... relation for a reason.

[Not a question.]

Nyssa was Ra's first daughter. Like him, she's older than she seems courtesy the prolonged use of a Lazarus Pit.

[Bruce takes his jacket off, slowly, and hangs it in the hallway closet. He misses Alfred so intensely in that moment that he can barely stand it. Something about this older body is making emotion all the more poignant.]

They disagreed on a particular matter - her allowing him access to her body or those of his children as future hosts - and Ra's left her to rot in a Concentration Camp at the height of Nazi Regime. She was tortured, experimented on, and when the Camp was liberated she swore revenge against Ra's. As far as I've been able to ascertain, the rest of her family died there.

[He moves - slowly, but with no overt hints of pain - to the kitchen table and sits down. Standing is taking its toll on him, as much as he'd never admit it.]

She exacted that revenge by turning Talia against him. This involved systematic torture, execution and revival in a Pit. Nyssa had Talia for months, Damian. And your mother was never the same afterwards. Whatever, whoever she's become, she wasn't always that way.

[Damian listens. And watches.]

[A part of him is detached, because a lot of this does not surprise him. Not Grandfather wanting his blood's bodies to possess, not exacting revenge over it, not the deadly, brutal ways in which his family ... not resolves matters among them, because they don't get any resolution, but acts on their anger.]

[Another part of him? Does react. He's angry about it. Angry because of his Grandfather, angry because of his aunt, angry because of his Mother. Betrayed. He does understand the implication of the change in Mother, though he isn't sure if, had it not happened, it would have been better. For him - it would probably be better for Mother, and he's irritated at himself for feeling protective over her. Again. He is supposed to be done, with that.]

[His fist clenches, and then he forces himself to look back up, at Father. Forces his voice to be even.]

Tea?

[He's offering to make it, yes. He needs... a little time to calm down, because he can do nothing about any of this, so the rage won't help at all. And it's possible that Father can use it... as much as Damian himself can.]

[He understands the need for silence. So he simply nods.]

Please.

[Damian thinks and rethinks the new data while he's working. He understands that it changes the overall situation, he does. But, at the same time... it doesn't change it at all.]

[In the end, he settles across the table, serving the tea, his hands steady.]

[His voice is steady, too, and the anger is... very faint. This is a more informative discussion than he's had with most people, and it is important, even if he's not yet able to fathom how, in all its details.]

She still used the technology she put inside my body to keep me operational to hijack my body. And she still disowned me.

[This is the woman that we get to deal with, now. Damian isn't sure Mother wants to go back, whether or not she is capable. Father is her Detective, her Beloved. Damian... is an enemy.]

[Understanding is always important. Sympathy might be lethal.]

Nothing I've said excuses that. I am sorry to see what Talia's become, but people change and grow. Some, in positive ways.

[He gives Damian a pointed look, this means you,]

And others in bad ones. It's part of what makes us human.

[Yes, Damian's still angry. He almost snaps why are you telling me things that I know? And things that don't help at all? But he reins that in. Looking down at his tea.]

[Tea should be peaceful. Somehow.]

[He's churning too much inside, right now. But, in the end, he comes up with a question that - may ... help. Somewhat. His voice is even - calm, even if the eyes show pretty much the vulnerability of the kid that Damian... still is.]

Was I supposed to be human, do you think? Am I supposed to be human?

[Bruce curls his gnarled, aged hands around the teacup. His fingers, broken too many times, ache to do it, but the warmth of the cup helps ease it.]

How do you define human?

You used the word.

[Damian uses the response as a way to buy time. But, in the end, he shrugs.]

'Normal' is - vastly misleading, I believe. But I was - always - supposed to be perfect. That does not fit with anyone's ideas. People tell me I am allowed to make mistakes - that it makes one human. But mistakes still mean, to me, that either I die, or somebody else does. People tell me I am supposed to have fun, or faith, or hope - and I still do not know exactly what these things are, let alone... how.

I am trying to find out what it is - human. But the more I learn, the more it is not... who I am. Nor do I know if I can be.

[The last bit comes out almost down to a whisper, and through gritted teeth. He's so mixed up about it. On the one hand, he's ... sad. Sad, because it means he's a disappointment to the most important people - Grayson. Brown. Pennyworth. Rayner. Maybe Father, too, but he's not sure about anything about him, right now. Or ever, anymore. But he's also angry. Angry for his failure, angry for being this. For being made this, too. So it just comes out.]

[Bruce studies his tea, with no outward reaction. Part of him, in that moment, hates Talia. It's a strange emotion juxtaposed with the nearly two decades he's loved her.]

Being human doesn't mean conforming to other people's ideas of humanity. It means finding your own meaning in the word.

[He lifts the cup, willing his hands not to shake.]

Do you think any of those things come naturally to me? Faith, hope. [His lips twitch] 'Fun'. Those words belong to other people. It doesn't make me less, it simply makes me different. As it does you. And I will... help you. If I can. Because in addition to being human - biologically speaking - we are also family.

[Though Bruce has made a rather poor showing of it these last few months, content to simply dump the boy off on Kyle or Dick. Bruce can't be what Damian needs, he's never shone brightly enough for i.]

[Damian lets out a slow breath, then gives a small nod, a fraction of the tension leaving his shoulders. The words help, even if he's not accepting exactly all of them. But they help.]

[Bruce is underestimating, probably, the importance of the example he's setting. And keeps on setting, despite everything. Damian has never had any reason for doing a lot of things that he's been learning are expected of him (like, say, containing his temper) - and Bruce, exactly as he is, gives him something to live up to. It's a complicated mixture of so many factors - having been always made to live up to the Batman, mixed with, some ways, genuinely wanting to live up to him. And wanting at least partial approval...]

[And not entirely not getting any. The quiet, staid, barely noticeable approval makes Damian know he's earned it, and it sometimes helps more than praise heaped on him that he doesn't feel like it belongs to him.]

[And that reminds him...]

You have faith. In some people. If you did not have faith in Mother, we would not be having this conversation. And you had faith in me, until you had to face exactly what I... was.

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cw nazi horror stories

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I am sorry. Bruce, please don't have a heart attack...?

hahahahaha bitter irony

All of the ow forever.

ikr ;-;

Sob. These two. In small doses.

every once in a while they can 'decent human being' at each other??

one can go so far as to say that they may even need to, every once in a while.

sob

all of it

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