Demons (Damirae)

Chapter Fourteen

Song: Truce  By: Twenty One Pilots

Raven was upset.

Damian could tell.

She wouldn't spend as much time with the others, opting to keep to herself, staying locked away upstairs. In the morning, she would make little conversation, drawn away in her own thoughts. Even after spending time at the school, she would retain her sombre mood, greeting Damian with little to no enthusiasm. The weight on Raven's shoulders as she walked pained him, though he could do nought to explain why.

However, he could put her mood to reason: it was one he had been in all too many times. They had been staying at the Manor since the beginning of the month, and October was nearing its end, Raven had spent weeks with a mask of indifference adorning her features, venturing to smile and act pleasantly towards others. But a few days ago, in that short-lived argument with her brother, that mask had shattered, leaving Raven's will lying on the floor. Broken shards of porcelain.

Adyn, on the other hand, was doing much better. His overall mood had drastically improved (the demon spent most of his time smiling, engaging in conversation with the other house occupants) and it didn't come as a surprise that he found a suitable companion in Grayson. 

Damian gave a snort of contempt as he pictured the two fretting over burnt cookies that his adopted brother was making for Koriand'r.  He might have offered to help, but thought to watch would be wiser...and provide a pathetic source of entertainment for his currently unstable mind.

It was strange how empty the day felt without Raven as a primary factor. Sure, there was Jaime, he gave adequate counsel, but the Bluebeetle was always calling or meeting up with Bart in the city (A.N: Because Bluepulse is real). Donna and Jon were available...but it wasn't the same. Selfish as it sounded, they couldn't... be there for Damian in the same way Raven could.

She wouldn't offer judgement. She wouldn't give overly concerned looks. She wouldn't ask that infernal question 'Are you okay?'. Raven understood that answering that question made it all so much worse. Rather than being intrusive, she would respect his privacy, allowing him to deal with his issues independently, but still lingering near. An open ear. Someone to listen instead of hear -if the rare occasion came that he opened up to her. Usually about his father. A few sentences at most: on patrol or before his father awoke. 

But Raven was avoiding human contact, leaving Damian susceptible to the darkness creeping from the back of his mind. Raven somehow, by some strange means, held the darkness at bay, as Damian came to discover.

The change went unnoticed by those in the Manor. His father didn't realise how distant Damian was. Neither did the Titans. Nor his brothers and sisters. One of the many perks of emotionally closing yourself off from people...they don't realise when you're hurting.

Because that's what Damian was...hurt. It was beyond his comprehension as to why he was hurting...but he was. In the night, memories would haunt him- not nightmares, but memories. Memories of the League of Assassins. Of Mother. Of Grandfather. Of training. Of not living up to expectations. Of...punishment. And loss...

He would wake, shivering. Not from the cold (although it was undeniably growing chillier outside) but from the ghost of a blade digging in to his back or the crack of a whip. 

Damian was no stranger to sleepless nights. Night filled with regrets from years ago. The regrets of a child- no, he was never a child. Damian had never experienced all the things that a child should have: never had he felt the soft embrace of a loving mother; or giggled as he slid down a playground slide. The assassin was scaling tundra-like mountains, decapitating unfaithful soldiers and the like at that point in his life.