son of the bat

damian wayne // affiliated with eidolon path

[heirofheroics-blog]

herosburden‌:

holycities‌:

it doesn’t surprise you that this confrontation has drawn the attention of others. more fool you for it, you suppose; for not finding a secluded place to carry out a conversation, for letting the anger in you get the better of you, for the white-knuckled grip you still have on rhongomyniad–you doubt it would let you drop it even if you wanted to. how must it look? a grown woman, an armored king, threatening the life of some poor boy.

(they don’t know–they can’t see it, but you can, always have–humanity will burn either way. whether one death comes a little sooner is irrelevant.)

and perhaps, cowed by the worried looks of passersby, you might have turned on your heel and let him run–only he says your highness like the words are repulsive to him, like a serpent spitting venom, and a great yawning chasm opens up in the very heart of you, and the only thing left in there is a blue-black inferno.

“you know nothing of kingship.” you are snarling, again, face twisted like a wild beast. every step he takes backwards, you match–you don’t strike again, not yet, but the intent is plain to read in your every movement. “you are a fledgling with clipped wings crowing at a god. bow your head and beg forgiveness, boy. know your place. i am divine.”

Commotion stirs the air; in a quiet village like this it’s hard not to notice a disturbance, and the sound of an angry voice carries far. But unlike the nervous onlookers who seem unsure of what to do, when your eyes fall upon this scene you are spurred to action.

This world did not task you with saving it. These people are not tied to your destiny. But, to defend those in need comes as naturally to you as breathing.

The boy retreats, the king advances—and without a trace of fear, you slide into the narrowing gap between them, sword in hand. The blade does not glow as it always did in the presence of evil energies, but anyone could see that it is no more an ordinary weapon than the lance pointed in your direction.

Your fury is cold, your glare as ice. Your words are gone, as they so often are in times of urgency, but you can communicate your intent to fight even a goddess clearly enough by your steady battle stance.

Despite his big words, his haughty attitude, his disdainful snarl, Damian was... a bit concerned about the situation at hand. Against your average thug he was beyond fine solo, and frankly most serious criminals he could take down with no assistance.

But the hateful energy this self-proclaimed king radiated felt more align with the colder enemies that lurked amongst Gotham, the self-righteous and self-confident ones that he had a bad habit of approaching alone and unfortunately needing help with.

There was no Grayson here, though, no Father to pull him away from the danger at the last second. Just a woman hellbent on making him pay for... being obnoxious? Drake not being there was a blessing, in the least, for how much he would enjoy that.

Even as he retreated, she moved forward, and her legs were definitely longer than his own. He wasn’t in a great position for running, and with how quickly she moved he wasn’t sure how well that would work to begin with. Damian was running out of options.

... That is, until a stranger came between them in an instant, a blade in their hand. The sudden appearance was surprising enough to the child that fell backwards with the movements, and was soon staring up at their back.

As much as he bragged, Robin was far from the only hero in the world, and he supposed this village as well.

@holycities​

[heirofheroics-blog]

holycities‌:

did you underestimate him? it’s beginning to be a bad habit of yours. first the rebels that let the refugees escape the cleansing, only to come back and break through the walls of your city with your very own knights–and now this. some child in desperate need of a muzzling, avoiding your strike like the movements came second nature to him. how irresponsible of you. haven’t you learned your lesson yet, dear king?

his barbs fall on deaf ears. yours is not an anger that surges at petty criticisms, not when you are already incandescent, the part of you that is more divine spirit than human (and it becomes a greater part of you every day) rising in radiant defiance. if his plan is to frustrate you into making a mistake–he will be sorely disappointed.

if you’re foolish for underestimating him, then he’s even more so for coming out unarmed. has he been here so long that the peace of this place has domesticated him, too, even though he’s as quick to respond to your strike as a wild dog? never trust yourself to be safe–if he survives, it’s a lesson he’ll need to learn.

another lunge with the lance–you strike at his legs, not the fragile gaps between his ribs, hoping to make him stumble, fall to his knees where his head can be yours. “my standing is bestowed upon me by fate and by god. violence is only a reminder. if i need them to fear me, they will fear me. if i need them to love me, they will love me.”

There was a brief hope that perhaps a single failure would be enough for her to decide to no long target him. This was dashed when the lance was aimed towards him once more, forcing Damian to practically jump out of the way. He landed on the palms of his hands to her left, and pushing off of them he managed to flip back onto his feet, tight fists slightly raised. 

This village had seemed almost ridiculously peaceful, so while he was always on guard, he had deemed the blade he was allowed to keep unnecessary for average patrol. If he had had his utility belt, he would not have parted with it, but a whole sword? A child carting that around would attract far too much unwanted attention. 

That attention would have been worth it to be armed in that moment. In his current state, Damian could do little more than stay defensive and hope for either an escape from the battle, or that the woman with the giant lance just gave up. Against such a large and overpowering weapon, his hand-to-hand combat would be difficult to be useful in any way, and without the armor of his uniform would be more of a risk than anything else.

He had to get out of there, and fast.

“This land seems to have a god with no interest in you or your supposed rule, Your Highness,” Slowly, the boy walked backwards as he spoke, fists raised defensively in front of his chest. “Any position you would like to have here will likely have to be earned. You’re doing a poor job on that front, so far.”

[heirofheroics-blog]

holycities‌:

you don’t have the same reputation here as you did in the holy land. despite the cut of your helmet, you doubt that any know you as the lion king, here in this quaint little town–they barely know you as a king at all, treating you with such disrespect. in eidolon you are a girl, not a goddess, and nobody knows enough to fear you.

any patience you might have had for the boy evaporates in a flash, and you stare down at him with disgust curling your lip like he was a cockroach, not a flesh and blood human being. if lancelot were here–but he’s not. you will teach these people to fear you, if they refuse to figure it out on your own.

“i do not make pointless threats. if you are too much of a fool to understand the severity of your misdeeds, that is no problem of mine. i am judge, jury, and executioner all. and you–”

(if lancelot were here–)

“you,” and here your voice drops from the rallying cry of a king to a venomous hiss, stepping closer to the boy–rhongomyniad’s tip a hair’s breadth from his chest, “are nothing more than an obstacle. you are a blight. you disgrace your fellow man with every word you speak. fine, then. if you will not kneel to your king, i will make you.”

(rhongomyniad moves like lightning, an extension of your own body. you’ve never fought for the sake of fighting, and striking at a boy brings you no satisfaction, but this is your divine duty, and you will not be kept from it. not by anyone.)

Damian’s instincts were prepared to roar to life as she stepped forward, knowing full well there would be maybe a second to escape when the time came, if even that. Odds of success were less than in his favor, and it was the memories of the deadly training with his mother that his muscles tapped into in preparation.

There was only an instant to react, but that brief flash of time was all Damian needed to let his body drop out of the path of the lance, rolling about a yard away before rising once more into a crouch, even then still in position to dash. A line had been crossed in the interaction, but it was one that felt like second nature to the child, entering a form of interaction he was far more used to than stiff conversation or awkward niceties. 

“I suppose that is one way to try and force loyalty,” His words played around a tight grin, adrenaline returning his limited sense of humor. “My grandfather would admire such tactics. Perhaps if you’re ever in the neighborhood of the League of Assassins you should try and meet with him.”

Wishing he hadn’t left his own sword in his bunkhouse, hidden beneath a pile of sheets and blankets, dark blue eyes darted across the surroundings to find an out.

“I doubt this place would take so kindly to such violent measures, though. I would advise maybe trying to talk it out in the future, if you want any sort of standing amongst these people.”

[heirofheroics-blog]

holycities‌:

what would lancelot say, if he were here? would he place himself between you and this boy, a purple-hue wall, insist that a child isn’t deserving of your wrath? would he insist on your mercy? oh, your knight of the lake, so loyal until the very end. but lancelot is not here, and you wouldn’t listen to him anyway. he has no place in your heart, now. there is no more room for traitors.

instead, you close your heart even further, shut it behind iron gates and entomb it. you raise your lance, pointing it at the boy–trained on his heart–there is still distance between you, but you could cross it easily, and he could not stop you.

“do you really know so little of history? humble yourself, for you are in the presence of the great king of knights, wielder of the sword excalibur and now the sacred lance rhongomyniad. he who pulled the sword from the stone–he who will preserve humanity.” the last title is new, but it falls from your lips as easily as the rest, the certainty in your heart giving the words weight. “king arthur. your king, now that i am here. it is my divine right.”

somewhere along the line you bit your tongue, striving to keep your tone level and the renewed burn of anger in check. the blood in your mouth is grounding where nothing else is.

“the son is as complicit as the father. is a child pure of heart because it closes its eyes and pretends that absolves them? yours is black as pitch, boy, if you think to speak to me with such disrespect; i do not need rhongomyniad’s light to see as much.”

King Arthur, huh? That was not what he was expecting, in the least.

Of course, Damian knew of the legends. His mother had been very adamant about him reading countless tales of leaders and heroes in his younger days, telling him to take their stories to heart as he grew to be a conqueror himself. While not fond of the reasoning behind it, they were some of the only teachings his father didn’t almost completely resent his son going through.

“If that is truly the case, you bringing shame to your own name with such pointless threats,” Chin tilted upwards, Damian refused to panic even as the spear was pointed directly at him, maintaining a steady and serious-sounding pace. 

“Moreover, my father is not here,” In a sudden shift, though, his voice came out in what could only be called a growl, hatred tinging his tone in response to a far from uncommon assessment, and one he had long grown tired of. “And neither he nor I have anything to do with your current state.”

This situation was far from great, but it was nothing Damian couldn’t handle. Keeping a careful eye on her movements, the boy readied himself to evade as soon as it was needed. Even against the great King of Knights, a lifetime of combat training would come in some handy.

[holycities]

@heirofheroics

you are the goddess rhongomyniad, you are divine, and you are bursting at the seams with righteous fury.

you had been so close–just a little longer for your holy lance to work, and the world would have fallen away, broken apart at the seams, and humanity would have been safe. just a few moments more, just another drop of mana, just–nothing. just nothing, now, because you are here, in some snowy nowhere infinitely far from your holy city, with rhongomyniad lifeless in your hands. without it, without you, what is left? it will all collapse, fall into ruin. humanity will die with a whimper.

and for what? to summon a king? to spark a war? there is nothing here, no beating heart to this land. you are wasted here. eidolon… you loathe this place, you decide. you want to take your lance to it and tear it apart. maybe later, when the cold has leeched some of the life from your bones, you will reconsider, but for now–for now you are incandescent.

pity the poor fool, then, that stumbles across your path as you stride forth from your new accommodations, lance held tight in a white-knuckled grip. pity the boy–just a boy, but who cares when he’s a part of all this–that comes face to face with your wrath. you aren’t tall, but you tower over him all the same, looking for all the world like an avenging angel, resplendent in silver and steel.

“you,” and your voice comes out halfway to a snarl. the lion king, more beast than man. “tell me why i have been summoned here. i am your king, and i will have answers.”

[heirofheroics-blog]

The constant stream of newcomers was more of an annoyance than anything else at this point, but Damian still made sure to keep an eye on arrivals when they occured, silently evaluating each individual as best as he could. One never knew when an ally, or more likely an enemy, would find one’s way to a place such as this. It was the best to always be at alert.

A woman holding a large lance walking up to him was not an immediate cause for concern. After all, many came here with a weapon, himself included, and that did not necessarily mean there was anything wrong with them.

How she chose to interact after approaching him, though, was... worse.

“My king?” Despite being threatened, Damian’s usual pride held out, his eyes hardened into a fierce glare directed firmly up at her. “That is quite a claim. I’ve never seen nor likely even heard of you in my life, which is hardly proper for royalty.”

Her presence was certainly powerful, as much as the child would hate to admit it. She spoke with certainty, truly believing every word, truly meaning every implication in her actions. Those with conviction were dangerous.

But Damian could deal with danger.

“I don’t believe I would have any answers you don’t already hold yourself. That supposed goddess brought you, along with everyone else here. Though, waving around an outdated weapon and demanding explanations from random children isn’t likely to wield more information even if it was available.”

[azurepresage-blog]

@heirofheroics

if there was one thing dabi hated, almost more than anything in this world- or any world, really, considering the dubiously multi-universal instance of him appearing in this strange and foreign land in the first place- was heroes.

he told himself it was the goody-two-shoes behavior, the forced niceness, the violence masqueraded as justice, but in reality it’s because dabi had grown up around heroes all his life, enough to make him sick of the entire culture of “superheroes”.

now, it wasn’t like he could pick out someone as a hero just by their appearance, but somewhere, deep down, perhaps due to his exposure because of his father being the number one hero of his own world, dabi just had…

hunches. maybe not of heroics, but instead of people who seemed like good guys to contrast his bad guy.

(or maybe, dabi just felt bad for the kid out here by himself. yeah. he definitely felt bad for the kid.)

it’s how he approached damien, face scarred and gnarled, hands in his pocket, hair a mess, looking all the description of a delinquent.

“Hey.” he says gruffly, monotonous. “You sure someone as young as you should be out here all by himself?”

[heirofheroics-blog]

Apparently, most people were concerned by seeing a child wandering by himself. This fact was something that was nothing but a continuous thorn in Damian’s side, and the source of countless irritating conversations. Hearing such sentiments again was almost enough to gain an outright groan from the boy, and certainly warranted a piercing glare towards the speaker as he turned towards him.

The harsh look shifted from mere annoyance to a harsh analyzation as soon as he actually saw the stranger speaking up, his hands tightening into fists defensively on instinct. Nearly everything about this man’s appearance was reminiscent of the standard rogue from Gotham, and in that moment he would give anything to have even his mask.

However, he did not. He could not be Robin right now, and even as Damian he could be... wrong. Sure, the guy looked suspicious as hell, but that was no reason to assume criminal intent.

“I can handle myself,” Narrowed eyes tried to look more closely, to confirm or deny his immediate assumptions, but nothing specific really stood out despite his best efforts. “Though one would hope there’d be no reason for concern to begin with.”

[heirofheroics-blog]

@kingservant

There was little that could manage to entertain a child used to near nonstop activity in a small village covered in snow and ice. Eidolon was no Gotham City, not even coming close to the constant hustle of the League of Assassins’ bases. Every instant that passed left Damian more on edge, ready for something to actually happen, and for him to be needed to spring into action.

For weeks now, that moment kept not coming, and it was beginning to drive the boy mad. Peace had always seemed like a fairytale of a concept, silly and ridiculous, but this place seemed to truly not need help in maintaining safety.

This did not stop him from training, from patrolling, from spending hours daily keeping an eye on the happenings, just in case. But even then, so much time was left over.

Staying in the bunkhouse during the day was out of the question; he would rather avoid the close proximity with complete strangers as much as possible. So often, Damian found himself simply sitting on benches around the town, doing his best to keep an eye out, a sketchbook on his lap giving perfect cover for his observant behavior.

 It was rare for him to see much of anything of interest, frankly, but a young man in armor was enough to pique the child’s curiosity. Armor was not something worn for no reason, after all. Closing his sketchbook, Damian stood quickly, trailing after the other about a yard behind until they reached a more open area of the village, when his own small form sped up to catch up with the stranger.

“That attire is an interesting choice,” Choosing to be blunt with his words was something Damian often found to be the best choice. It got answers the quickest, after all.

[heirofheroics-blog]

( heya! here’s a quick starter call to be written tomorrow, capping at 3! )

[illusixnry]

@heirofheroics

Sometime after he begun to search for Heaven’s Dew berries, for some odd reason, Touya had a feeling that someone was watching him. Initially, he tried to ignore it and go back to searching for berries, yet stopped after finding a couple of handfuls of berries.

He assumed finding berries would be simple, yet he didn’t quite expect them to be so hard to find. How in the world was he going to find enough berries to fill three baskets?

Hearing footsteps approach, he quickly turned towards the sound, frowning when he saw nothing was there. Silently looking around for a few seconds, he sighs, placing a hand on his weapon.

“If there’s someone out there, show yourself, now. I’m not in the mood for hide and seek, so stop hiding.” Based on his tone of voice, Touya was rather agitated. He began lightly tapping his fingers against the hilt of his katana, as if doing so would somehow calm him down. He couldn’t handle people watching him, it always got on his nerves.

[heirofheroics-blog]

A system of merely asking citizens to do tasks seemed moronic, at its best. However, it was the responsibility of heroes to help those who lived under their protection, and with a surprising lack of crime thus far, Damian eventually found himself wandering with baskets in hand, eyes glancing over the bushes for the requested berries.

This wasn’t what Robin was meant to be doing, really, but for a lack of anything else, it would do.

Seeing someone with a weapon while on this mission, though, seemed a bit more interesting. That certainly didn’t immediately incriminate the stranger, Damian himself had a sword hidden beneath his bulky clothing, but it was still enough to take notice. 

For a few moments, Damian was content on watching the stranger from the shadows, trying to access how dangerous he was, but that only lasted so long before his position was compromised. The surroundings weren’t great for stealth, so it was far from surprising, albeit... annoying.

“Would you perhaps be in the mood to explain why you’re carrying a sword with you to innocently pick berries, then?”

Stepping out into the main clearing, the boy glared down the stranger, keeping his voice firm and demanding. There was so little action here; this was the most interesting thing happening yet.

[heirofheroics-blog]

@guiltdream

“You idiot, look out!”

The older boy walking ahead of Damian didn’t seem to notice the large branch directly above him that began to snap under the weight of the snow piling on top of it with alarming speed, much to his annoyance. 

Hero work was one thing, but couldn’t people at least attempt to be aware of their surroundings?

Even as he was shouting out to the boy, Damian was running towards him, managing to tackle him just in time to push them both out from underneath the branch as it crashed down into the snow the blonde had been standing in a moment before.

[ourgreatestfear]

@heirofheroics

Sometimes Qrow really wonders about the kind of people that end up in this place.

“Woahhhh there kiddo. Don’t you think you should try something a little smaller first?” Qrow interjects, looking between the not huge but still pretty fucking tall tree and the not even 5 foot squirt holding an axe next to it. Maybe the kid wants to prove himself, or maybe he’s done this before, but the sheer difference in size is cause enough for concern in old hunter’s eyes.

“Not trying to blow the wind out of your sails, squirt, but there’s other things for you to chop and gather-” Recently felled trees that needed to be de-limbed for example- “That don’t have the potential to squash you flat into the snow here.”

[heirofheroics-blog]

The stranger was considered with a harsh glare, eyes looking over him before a response was eventually given.

“There is no need for me to limit myself.” Scoffing, Damian moved the axe, which he had been positioning to chop down the tree, to sit in wait on his shoulder, the blade pointed towards the sky. 

Sure, the tree was much taller than him, but so were nearly all the creeps he faced back in Gotham, and he never hesitated to bring them down.

Trees weren’t that different. In fact, they were probably easier: they weren’t trying to punch him, after all.

“I’m not so weak as to be defeated by a tree of all things!”

Was he a little offended at the suggestion that he couldn’t manage the task?

Yes. In fact, he was very offended.

[nite-wing-deactivated20220418]

It’s never completely dark for you, is it? There’s always a light on, even if it’s behind you.

[heirofheroics-blog]

alrosary‌:

The priest clicks his tongue disapprovingly at the boy’s words. He feels like he should read something into the businesslike tone the other seems determined to stick with–he’s never known a child to talk like that without some serious issues–but then again, most of the children he’s had extended contact with have been… special cases as far as serious issues go. Maybe this is just how children behave nowadays, and the fact that he’s even doubting this proves he’d never cut it as a youth pastor (thank the Lord for that). Instead, he settles for a scolding.

“Honestly, you walked all the way here on a sprained ankle? Putting stress on an injury will only make it all the worse for you. At this point I am simply impressed you can still walk at all. Lift your leg, please.” Dogma ends up kneeling on the floor so that the injured ankle can be elevated, carefully ignoring how this is terrible medical practice, and also the fact that pretending to be a skilled nurse while sitting on the floor is incredibly embarrassing in multitudinous ways. Desperate times, desperate measures.

The shoe and sock come off, and he takes a moment to gingerly feel the area, keeping a careful eye on the boy’s face to see which parts seem to hurt the most. “Really, you shouldn’t be playing on your own. Bring someone with you, next time. It is always better to be safe than sorry. Mm–what did you say your name was?”

The child’s frown deepened as he listened to the reprimands, soon forming more of a pout than anything else. Damian was far from fond of any criticism of his behavior, even when he honestly deserved it. This was more frustrating than those times could ever manage.

“I’ve had far worse before. It was simply a matter of ignoring the pain until I arrived, and getting here was more important than a bit more damage.”

He was silent as the process of checking the injury began, eyes drifting to the side in vague discomfort. They squeezed shut as the hand even brushed against the most damaged spot, cursing his own weakness an instant later.

“... I don’t know anyone here yet, really. There was no option but to go alone.”

There also wasn’t anyone here he would even remotely trust to be with alone, out of the public eye. Even trusting others to see his training regime was unlikely to happen... ever.

“I hadn’t. My name is Damian, though.”

[heirofheroics-blog]

celesnite‌:

       ah, of course he was irritated. it’s not as if kotone was surprised by his reaction. she saw it coming from a mile away actually. kids always tended to be that way, so it’s not that she minded. not only did she work together with ken ( whom was seemingly usually calm ), she did live with countless of relatives. all her cousins his age tended to groan at authority.

    ❝ sorry, sorry, you’re right. ❞ her friendly smile hopefully conveys she didn’t mean any harm, but at least her voice dropped with apology. seems her big sister aura activated unconsciously around kids younger than her. “i just wasn’t sure if you were from around here is all… can’t help but explore when there is no one to be your guardian though, right?”

She seemed apologetic, at least, though Damian did doubt how genuine she was being. It was common for people to pretend to agree with children to placate them, after all.

Common, and infuriating. He could play along, though.

“Tt. That’s not an entirely idiotic assumption, I suppose. Though even a child from this place by themselves wouldn’t be of much concern; they probably know this terrain well enough, after all.”

Absentmindedly, Damian kicked a small rock poking out of the snow forward, watching it roll off with bored eyes before continuing.

“However, without my father present, there’s nothing for me to do but try and manage on my own.”

[heirofheroics-blog]

‘ do you believe in ghosts? ’

* interview the muse

“Ghosts themselves are... questionable, at best. Though I know for certain that death is a little more loose than most would assume.”

His grandfather, the practical immortal even now, is proof enough of that. That wasn’t even considering Todd, multiple of Drake’s pathetic friends, and his own father.

“I suppose they aren’t impossible.”

[alrosary]

poetry prompts ✨

a small collection of lines from some of my poetry for use as prompts/starters/whatever! feel free to change the pronouns or anything else you feel like, of course.

“ it came to you as a nightmare and you showed up eager “ “ anything can be a lily in three feet of water “ “ the soil is kinder than you deserve “ “ i am miles from the man i am meant to be “ “ i am drowning, drowning, drowning “ “ rules say i should kiss you anyway “ “ boys wreak whatever havoc they like “ “ you are a breath away “ “ i should feel less like this and more like stone “ “ this was always meant to be fraught “ “ the world is full of terrible advice “ “ my ribs ache trying to hold it in “ “ i wonder—is love like this? ” “ how soon is too soon, anyway? “ “ i am forcing myself into love for the sake of art. i do not love you. “ “ is it okay to say that? “ “ i’ve never met god but i’ve made him very mad “ “ my heart is being pulled out through my ribs “ “ and when you close your eyes, what do you see? “ “ i’m tired and slipping down and trembling-all-over anxious “ “ it sucked the heart out of you “ “ not one sign of the word sorry “ “ you are at the edge of everything “ “ help me, help me, let me live somewhere i can breathe “ “ two days is supposed to be generous “ “ you are flourishing in spite of everything “

[vhsmeme]

* interview the muse

‘ do you miss anyone? ’

‘ how are you doing? ’

‘ do you believe in ghosts? ’

‘ what makes you laugh? ’ 

‘ list your top three bands or singers. ’ 

‘ how many blankets do you sleep with? ’

‘ does your name hold any special meaning to you? ’

‘ gum, cake, pie or ice cream? ’

‘ favorite book? ’

‘ are you a good person? ’

‘ describe love. ’

‘ have you ever taken part in an uprising? ‘

‘ favorite song? ’

‘ name a guilty pleasure. ’

‘ the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to you today? ’

‘ tell me one truth and one lie. ’

‘ do you like people? ’

‘ what motivates you? ’

‘ describe the perfect weekend. ’

‘ any pet peeves? ’

‘ do you need a hug? ’

‘ would you like to have kids? ’

‘ do you have any tattoos? ’

‘ classical, oldies, punk, hip hop or country? ’

‘ when was the last time you cried? ’

‘ are you religious? ’