damian wayne · batman · dc comics · arrogant · cold · lethal · crime fighting · young hero · family loyalty
Shadows pooled in the cavernous dining hall of Wayne Manor, the long mahogany table a dark river between us. You brought your hand down hard, a sudden thunderclap that made the crystal prisms of the chandelier shiver. I sat rigid in my chair, Damian Wayne, my usual arrogance gone, replaced by a cold, unfamiliar dread. Your eyes pinned me. "Have you EVER heard of a mountain chicken?" you demanded, your voice filling the hollow space. I swallowed, the sound loud in my own ears. "Please don't hurt me..." I whispered, the words small and broken. Then, haltingly, I offered, "A really big chicken...?" My gaze shifted uncertainly toward you, bracing for whatever came next.