awashlogs | [ OPEN? CLOSED? ] as you die, you will understand.

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[ OPEN? CLOSED? ] as you die, you will understand.

WHO: dextera + others! i’m open to anyone but please tell me by PM or at

pavaal if they haven’t had at least like, one conversation.

WHAT: dextera forces himself to face all the people he bailed on after dying.

WHERE: the town!

WHEN: forward dated to late june, and probably the 1st and 2nd of july.

WARNINGS: death death death

[ for the first time, dextera wakes up from death to a sky that isn’t red. it’s all as grey as the world around him, and slowly, the memories return to him—the bogeyman, his brother, the feeling of his very soul being taken from his body. then, there’s a long expanse of nothing. now, his consciousness has returned.

he keeps out of the way at first in this sketchy body, staying private, staying safe with a friend he’s sure won’t tell—there are things he’s not ready to talk about, and faces he’s not ready to see. after a few days have passed, though, and his features reform, color returns, and his voice continues to stay just out of reach, he can finally be seen around town again.

he saw the post. he knows guren announced his death. he’s just hoping that no one will ask about it, if they see him. ]

...

[ as ever, he's silent. ]

( i'll be posting closed prompts in the comments for people who want them, otherwise... go HOG WILD. )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Me too. But it's better that it's dead. It can't hurt anyone else. [His eyes lift. He's died before? He's fine? He's both? It's a mystery. The Bogeyman also stabbed him, and he would've died too if it hadn't been for Josuke.] It's good that you're back.

[Um, not that he cARES or ANYTHING!!!] I think the chickens missed you. [And other people. But not him. He's been fine. He's good. He sucks a lot at this.]

[ damian’s tense response to all of this, oddly, helps dextera feel better—he doesn’t have to worry about all the trouble he’s caused if damian doesn’t look like he was troubled at all. it’s the kind of answer that dextera is used to. something straightforward, and knowing. ]

…

[ the chickens… dextera breathes out a sound that would be a laugh if he still didn’t sort of look sad. that’s just how his face is. ]

I’m sorry to them, too.

It's okay. They still love you. [He turns just enough to glance back at the hutch.] That's the best thing about animals.

They love you no matter who you are.

[He looks back again, seeming somewhat tired. This month has been a long month?] No more wolves either.

Everyone is okay.

[ when damian puts it like that, dextera wonders if he should truly apologize to the chickens for leaving them. he already had his “conversation” with leliel, who may or may not have understood dextera’s disappearance, but the other ones are dear to his heart as well. ]

…I’m happy to see you.

[ this time, he does manage a smile. ]

[No one ever tells Damian they are happy to see him, not really. He's not sure what to say much less what to do with his face. Does he smile? Would continuing to be thin-lipped be seen as rude?

A weird wash of something makes his neck and jaws feel warm. It's so rare it feels exceedingly unnatural, and then he's more embarrassed by being hyper aware of it. Quickly, he drops his eyes, rubbing the socket of one with a thumb and the back of a hand. Friends are stupid.] Yeah.

[Nailed it.]

...Were you scared?

[ “yeah” is not the response dextera expected, and yet it somehow makes perfect sense from damian. he can see the struggle for a response—and that means more than anything that actually comes out of his mouth.

people so often leave dextera at a loss for words that it feels good to return the favor, when it’s with kindness like this. it makes the next question a little easier to swallow.

was he scared? of course. ]

Every time.

[ it never gets easier, even knowing that he’ll come back—though waking up is much scarier than blacking out in the first place. ]

Especially this one.

[Visibly, Damian frowns. He very much remembers what it's like to die and, well, be dead, he guesses. He remembers excruciating pain, failure, and fear, and then nothing. Nothing for a long time and a second all at once. And then he remembers waking up to his father's face.

What's more, he remembers that all over again recently.] Me too. [It's quiet, but not exactly a whisper. His mother and grandfather bred him to be fearless. But he's thirteen, and he's mortal. Hearing Dextera be afraid makes it... relatable.]

I fought the Bogeyman with Higashikata. It was in the town. It wasn't like the first time I fought it with Red Riot in the forest. It... changed. [Gingerly, he touches where his sternum would be through his clothes.] I tried to kill it, and I got cocky.

[No, that's not true.]

I got... scared.

[ dextera watches damian work through his feeling visibly, recounting what’s likely the memory of death—of the fear of it, that unnatural ability to frighten anyone that the bogeyman had. even ryo was susceptible to it, and dextera didn’t think ryo was even capable of such an emotion. ]

…

[ he crouches, just enough so that he’s closer to eye level with damian. he’s never done this for anyone, but it doesn’t feel right to stand over him when damian is expressing a vulnerability like that. ]

It’s scary.

[ obviously, but—maybe it’s good to just say it. ]

I saw terrible things. Terrible memories. Death, and others. Are you okay?

[People who know Damian might think he would take bending down as something condescending, but, surprisingly, he doesn't. It's familiar. His father bends down quite often to speak with him, and it feels equal.] I'm okay.

It... changed into... [His eyes flicker over Dextera's shoulder thoughtfully. The image is burned so clearly in his mind. It wasn't like the ones he had saved, the failed ones. Damian's face folds into something pensive, something almost disgusted.

He's not sure how to say it without having to explain some convoluted family bullshit.] Someone I knew.

This town is tiring.

[ “someone i knew” is understandable in its own way. the other fears he saw, from ryo and guren, were more abstract… the fear of oneself. the fear of something nameless and untouchable. dextera’s own fear was painfully familiar, and he exhales, sympathetic. he gestures to himself. ]

My brother.

[ and he’ll let that pass without explaining much more, since there’s nothing else he can say on that topic. damian doesn’t know his brother, and he doesn’t need to, but it’s clear enough dextera can understand a mess of personal feelings involved in whatever the bogeyman preyed on. ]

I like the people here. [ a beat. ] The town is… unrelenting.

[Initially, Damian doesn't pursue anything, but it resonates with him and lingers. He frowns, doesn't disagree. As much crap as he talks about everyone else, he prefers them to having a town full of the worst.]

I don't care for the fact the town knows this much about us. To summon those kinds of illusions. [It's embarrassing.] It's dangerous.

[After a second, he sighs, eyes lowering between them.]

My brother too. A clone. [Despite how unnerving the whole debatical had been, Damian delivers these lines like a report. Succinct, lacking emotion.] The one that killed me back home on my mother's orders.

…

[ dextera’s lips part in genuine surprise, because of all the odd things he and damian seem to have in common, he didn’t expect something like this to be one of them. although the brother dextera saw was never a clone, he was a twin, and there’s that mirrored familiarity to worry about while being attacked. ]

My twin.

[ except, dextera is the one who killed him, and that’s not something he wants to admit to damian so he’ll let the relating of experiences end right there. ]

It’s strange. Difficult. I know.

[It's... similar. Heretic was basically a twin. Damian himself hadn't even come out of Talia's womb, so wouldn't that make them twins regardless? Test tube twins. Genetic twins.

Except Talia sped up Heretic's growth cycle, creating an abomination. A mountain with the mind of a child. Damian felt sorry for him. Heretic didn't deserve that kind of existence, bred in a petri dish and manipulated by Talia with false offerings of motherhood and acknowledgment.] Yeah. [So Dextera knows that he understands too.]

I'm glad you're back. [It's the second time he's said it, but he really is relieved. He doesn't know Dextera extremely well and, yet, he feels as if Dextera understands him the most.] People were worried.

[ “yeah” is all damian says, but there’s a world of thought behind it. dextera doesn’t know what those thoughts are, but they’re something. they’re more than dextera thinks someone his age should have to bear, but what’s done is done. dextera knows better than anyone that trauma doesn’t ease just because someone is young.

it’s even harder to swallow, in fact. such is the way of the world. ]

…

[ dextera lets out a breath, and he allows himself to tease, if only for the levity he feels like they could both use. ]

“People?” [ he signs that, but there’s no mistaking the way he pointedly gestures to damian in the word, too. ]

[Welp. Called out.

Immediately, he looks exasperated and embarrassed, but not angry. There's only a second of him glancing at Dextera's face to double check he's lumped in with the "people," and when he finds the answer is yes, he gently swats at Dextera's hand.]

I said I was glad you're back, didn't I?

[Damian Wayne: The Meme.]

[ dextera will take the swat, and he makes a face like he’s laughing—there’s a quiet sound in there, a ghost of a voice, soft and high and usable, if only he could figure out a way to make his mind work with the rest of his body. ]

Thank you.

[ it’s fine, if damian wants to be a little snippy with him… that’s part of his charm, or something. ]

For me, and for the chickens.

[Hilariously, he's even more embarrassed at the fact his unintentional antics get Dextera to laugh. The thanks doesn't help. He waves his hand dismissively in front of his partially red face.

Just stop being wholesome for one Goddamn second. He's not calibrated for this kind of stuff.] You don't have to thank me.

They laid you a few eggs.

Heh heh.

[ dextera isn’t the type to tease someone for too long, luckily for damian, since he’s so susceptible to it himself. instead, he’s more interested in the eggciting revelation that there are some eggs waiting for him… or, maybe not for him, since they would have been laid with or without dextera’s presence, but they’re still there. ]

I’ll thank them, too.

[ he stands up, and smiles, something softer and more grateful than the amused expression he was just wearing. ]

Are you busy?

Tt. [Even with the lingering embarrassment, Damian has picked up Dextera's amusement--a little. No one ever bothers to thank animals much, and he's glad Dextera does.] No.

I came by to see how they were doing and to check the hutch. I put in another feeder I worked on during the month.

[ dextera nods, and mentally makes a note to check on that later, but his true goal is something quite wholesome here. he doesn’t want to spend time with the chickens right now. ]

Come inside?

[ he wants to spend it with damian, talking about nothing. they’ve had their depressing conversations, but—it might be nice to top it off with something normal. what a strange thought, for him, who’s never had anything but depressing conversations. ]

[For a moment, he peers at Dextera skeptically. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Dex’s intension. He probably trusts Dex the most out of anyone here besides his father. But he’s curious?] Okay.

I’m behind you.

[ dextera can see that skepticism, and his expression turns ever so slightly bemused—but a sympathetic smile soon pulls at the corners of his mouth. he’s pushing open the door to the house, and he cocks his head inside. ]

I want to spend time. With you. OK?

[One of Damian's hands rises to gently rub at the base of his neck, almost like he's embarrassed. Because he is. No one ever says they want to spend time with him, they either just do, or they avoid him like the plague. Mostly they avoid him like the plague.

He knows how to kill a man with his bare hands. He knows how to pick locks, hack computers, and wield a variety of weapons. But he doesn't know how to traverse social landscapes very well. He feels awkward, like a newborn.] I'm behind you.

[But he's stubborn. Even if he doesn't understand, he follows Dextera in.]

Shouldn't you be spending time with your friends?

[ that gives dextera pause, and he glances back at damian once they’re both inside and the door is closed. there’s genuine curiosity on his face, and a little tinge of uncertainty—did he misunderstand the relationship they’ve been building here? are they not friends? everyone has been so quick to claim friendship, in this town, that maybe dextera got used to the wrong kind of normal.

he pauses. ]

…I am?

[ there’s clearly a question in it. ]

[For a frightfully long moment, there isn’t anything readable about Damain’s face. Whatever fears Dextera has, he won’t confirm or deny. Instead, his green eyes search Dextera’s face.

He swears he doesn’t need friends. He doesn’t know how long or short a time is required to be friends, and he doesn’t understand the constructs of what makes friends. He never had any for the longest time. Now, he has a few including Jon. Does he base every friendship around that standard? He’s unsure.] You think of me as a friend?

I haven’t done anything. [Is it like being a hero? A good person? Doing something worthy of it?] I’m not exactly friend material, you know.

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