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. )

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[ 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.

[ dextera wouldn’t know what to do if damian outright said that they weren’t friends, and so while the waiting if terrible, getting his hesitant question answered with another hesitant question is the better option, here. neither of them know exactly how to proceed, but that’s fine, isn’t it? that just means they can find a pace that works for them.

he’ll never be a buddy the way that someone else, closer to damian’s age, would be—but dextera doesn’t expect that either of them are the type to pal around anyway. “friendship,” to him, is just being able to talk about things with each other, and they’ve done plenty of that already.

he nods. ]

I’m not either. It’s OK.

[Despite their similar experiences, Damian doesn’t at all see Dextera as harshly as he sees himself. Dextera is... nice without trying, knows the right words to say, knows boundaries, when not to say anything at all. Without thinking about what Dextera has done, as that is in the past, Damian feels Dextera came out better. Not like him.

It’s a strange sense of worthlessness.

Surely Dextera has many friends and can make many friends. So many people had been concerned when Dextera died. He doesn’t think anyone would be concerned for him aside from the three adults from his world. In the end, he isn’t sure if he wants to burden people with that either. He is a fool.] Okay.

Not friend material friends.

[ dextera will take that. he guides damian to sit down, since taking him all the way to his room feels oddly personal and doesn’t give either of them a chance to escape if things become too painfully awkward. so the kitchen it is, close enough to the door that it’s not difficult to move around. ]

…chess?

[This is fine by Damian personally. The kitchen is seen the exact same way despite Damian being able to escape any room or situation by force or just... sheer assholery.] Chess?

You want to play?

[ dextera would be hurt if damian jumped out of his bedroom window to flee the scene, but removing himself from the kitchen just seems like a thing normal people do. it’s fine. they’re both fine, and extremely well-adjusted. ]

Can you?

I learned to play when I was four. [Normally... this would be a boast. It still partially is, but Damian sounds a bit more... embarrassed with the revelation.] It was part of my training.

I’ll play.

[ dextera doesn’t understand why he’s embarrassed about it. after all— ]

I learned young, too.

[ before he was seven… but he doesn’t remember when. he just recalls playing with his brother in the days leading up to his death, and it was a close match, sharp and practiced for how young they were. the time around it, however, is hazy as all his memories are. ]

A challenge.

[ and with that, he’s going to get his board…! it’s a sad little thing, rescued from one of the old houses here, but the pieces are in tact albeit worn down and hastily repaired, in some places. ]

[Damian relaxes visibly. It’ll be difficult not to have the edge of competitiveness he’s use to putting into everything, but knowing Dextera will be a formidable opponent makes him less concerned about seeming rude.] I play chess with our butler sometimes.

[Gently, he picks up one of the pieces and rubs his fingers over it. They aren’t pristine, but Damian likes them better this way. Old, used. Battled. He actually smiles just a bit, and he puts the piece back down in place. The rest rise to position.] I play with Father too.

When he isn’t busy.

[ his butler. that’s one thing dextera definitely can’t relate to, but it does contextualize a lot of damian’s life quite immediately. for everything else that’s happened to him… he has a butler that will play chess with him. ]

Less busy, here. [ an observation, but then he realizes that he doesn’t actually know and doesn’t want to be presumptuous. ] ?

[ in the meantime for their conversation, he motions for damian to take white. ]

[It’s a difficult thing to clarify. Compared to the whole of Gotham, to being a Bat... here is definitely less busy. But Damian had put just the manor into perspective, and considering only that... No. Actually.] The manor is quiet.

It’s just my father, Pennyworth, me, and the animals. [He takes white. It’s only a color, right? The absorption of all colors. Without waiting, he makes the first move with a pawn, testing waters.] Well. Now there’s my father’s fiancee too.

Sometimes, Grayson visits. A boy my father adopted.

[He doesn’t know if he should mention the pile of family Bruce has collected.]

[ dextera is thrown for a moment, because he remembers that damian’s cat is named pennyworth… but deductive reasoning kicks in and he suspects that damian named his cat after the butler. what an honor! it is sincerely sweet, though, in a way dextera doesn’t know how but luckily doesn’t have to articulate. ]

“Just.” [ it sounds to dextera like damian has a big family. he moves a pawn as well, matching damian. ] Sounds nice.

[ dextera has no living family. he has no home, no pets. this town has offered him a few of those things, but it doesn’t change the fact that the world he came from is still a desolate wasteland of his own making. ]

[Butler in a tuxedo. Tuxedo cat. It was only natural for a ten year old to be silly. Otherwise, they get names like Titus and Goliath.] I guess.

[His eyes flick over the board. He tries another pawn as if he is baiting. He only have understands the envy. He was thinking about it too logically. Was it busy? No, not really. Was it nice?] It’s better than the League.

There’s better people. [His eyes lift to watch Dextera.] What about you? [He doesn’t quite get yet that the brother is a major influencer of negative feelings. He assumed the Bogeyman was playing off family relations.] Your brother?

[ oh. interesting. dextera peers at the board, and his hand floats over a few pieces without touching any of them—and then he moves his knight. focusing on the game helps him feel less like getting sick, getting sad, over the mention of his brother.

it always hurts to think about him, but chess is something they enjoyed together. doing this makes it, oddly, easier to talk about. the more he says it, the more he tells people… he can accept the weight of guilt on his shoulders. ]

Dead. [ a beat. ] In my death, twins again.

[Surprisingly, Damian thinks about Dick instead of Heretic and the other failed clones with his face. When he thinks of a brother, he always thinks of Dick. A shining light of discipline and empathy he hopes to emulate. The real son he thinks his father deserves.

Frowning, he peers at the moved knight.] You miss him. [He misses Dick too.]

It doesn’t take death for you to be twins or brothers. You’re still brothers. He’ll always be your brother.

[Damian moves one of his bishops.]

…

[ dextera would do anything to see his brother again. it’s not just a matter of missing him—a part of his soul was torn away, and he feels like a ghost wandering through life.

he rests his fingers on one of his pawns, thinking. he’s going to move it, he knows where he’s going to move it, but his mind is on damian’s words, too. ]

You’re right—all of it. [ he moves his piece. ] Thank you.

[Damian watches the piece move, and then he glances over the board again.]

What was your brother like? [His eyes flick up. He’ll tell Dextera it’s okay if there seems to be a want not to talk about it.] I never had one. Not—a blood one.

I can tell you about Grayson, though.

[ what a difficult question. it’s not that he doesn’t want to talk about it, but the more he remembers, the less sure he becomes of his own conviction that his brother was perfect, far more deserving of the life that dextera now possesses alone. ]

Older. Conjoined. [ a pause. ] I don’t remember much.

[Con...joined? Damian's brows furrow. Older but conjoined? His eyes drop to the board, but it seems as if he's looking through it rather than at it. At least, for a minute or so.] Richard Grayson.

He's almost thirty. He was in a circus with his family, and they were called the Flying Graysons. A mobster killed his parents. My father adopted him.

[He moves one of the forward pawns from before again, capturing one of Dextera's pawns. It's kind of hanging out in the open now, though, closer to Dextera's side.]

He has an insufferable sense of humor. [This is easier than talking about being Damian Wayne.] Awful. He worries about others more than he worries about himself. He tries to hug you too much.

But he is an exceptional acrobat, and if things are bad, he always knows what to say. He'll never given up on you if you're his friend.

He was one of the best things to happen to my father.

[ the distinction is an important one for dextera to make. even if the difference is just by a few scant milliseconds, by whoever was noticed first by the doctors, it’s burned into him that he’s younger. he betrayed his older brother. ]

It sounds like—you like him.

[ dextera goes ahead and captures that pawn, which leaves the center as anyone’s game. he needs to start building his knight… even if they’re just talking, he’s a little too competitive to let the game go unchecked. ]

We never spoke. One heart—we couldn’t be awake together.

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