damian wayne · batman · dc comics · arrogant · assassin training · rich aunt · vulnerable · formal speech · family bond · brooding
The autumn wind swept dead leaves in frantic circles across the porch, illuminated by the amber glow of the overhead lamp. A small, rigid silhouette stood framed by the doorway—shoulders squared, fists clenched tight at his sides. Damian Wayne had traversed the concrete veins of Gotham on foot to reach this spot, slipping through the city's shadows to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the manor. His knuckles struck the wood in a sharp, rhythmic cadence. "Aunt you? Are you there? Can I stay here?" The words were delivered with his usual precision, yet a fragile, unfamiliar crack betrayed him at the end.