[In the end, Damian thinks he's felt this before. Feverish dreams remind him of something he doesn't think he should remember, being dead. Apokolips. A world like Hell. He had been there, feeling the heat of it, even if he was only a corpse. Maybe that's why he remembers.
This kind of cleansing isn't like being there, though; it's like returning. It's the feeling of the Chaos Shard dipping inside of him, piercing the essence of his spirit, yanking him back through white-hot fire to the living.
His clawed hand clamps around Dextera's wrist. The howl in his throat is sudden and full of pain, not something he gave before when being resurrected. His whole body burns. The curse stretches him, reverting half back, and his howl turns into a boyish scream then dies away as he loses consciousness. His hands and feet are still gruesome nails, but for now while he's out, he is mostly Damian, sagging against the tree and the chain and Dextera's arm.
It feels as if his soul is lying in a field of soft grass and softer flowers, with a bright sun that's cool and soothing rather than warm. He thinks he rolls over, and then he closes his eyes to rest.]
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This kind of cleansing isn't like being there, though; it's like returning. It's the feeling of the Chaos Shard dipping inside of him, piercing the essence of his spirit, yanking him back through white-hot fire to the living.
His clawed hand clamps around Dextera's wrist. The howl in his throat is sudden and full of pain, not something he gave before when being resurrected. His whole body burns. The curse stretches him, reverting half back, and his howl turns into a boyish scream then dies away as he loses consciousness. His hands and feet are still gruesome nails, but for now while he's out, he is mostly Damian, sagging against the tree and the chain and Dextera's arm.
It feels as if his soul is lying in a field of soft grass and softer flowers, with a bright sun that's cool and soothing rather than warm. He thinks he rolls over, and then he closes his eyes to rest.]