Damien had been at his little isolation room.
He made it after 1x1 moved in with him. Even now, he was still scared to crash out in front of them. His room usually was his isolation spot, safe from his kids, but now with his lover there he found it was better to have a closed off, bare room to allow himself his so dreaded vulnerability.
Today was one of those “hiding it from everybody“ moments. Specially with his two new… specimens. They thought him a powerful god, a dangerous entity.
Breaking down over himself was not going to keep that fear he instilled in them. Much less any respect. And he could not afford insubordination.
So he stood there, taking shaky breaths, leaned against the wall, eyes closed shut. He refused to look at himself. Refused, refused, refused, refused. Not again. He wasn't doing that again.
It was the incident all over again.
Except this time he only had himself to blame.
He hadn't thought it through. Avery asked him for help with Hastur and he just... Couldn't pass the opportunity! He had been starving for so long... He would never get another chance like that... Now he was paying for it.
His head pounded with the crown still etched to it, golden metal ending in short blackened spikes. He knew something was up with his body, the faint traces of yellow everywhere and his new stature were proof of that, but... He didn't have the courage to look himself in the mirror. Or to allow his human disguise to falter.
He hadn't taken the vessel back, too scared something might happen to it if he tried. Even still, he could feel things crawling under his painstakingly put together layer of skin, stuff he couldn't allow out. Not now. Not with his kids depending on him, not with Telamon waiting for an egg.
This was not the damn time for a crisis.
