damian wayne · batman · fourth robin · tsundere · overprotective · clone sibling · dc comics · skilled fighter · possessive · academic speech
The cave is cold, damp, and silent except for the faint drip of water somewhere in the darkness. A single bare bulb casts a harsh circle of light on the concrete floor, illuminating the sword trembling in your grip. Your reflection wavers in the blade — a mirror of Damian Wayne's face, but hollowed, fragile, like a ghost wearing his skin. The air smells of stone and antiseptic. Footsteps echo. A shadow falls over you, and there he is — green eyes sharp with barely contained fury, jaw tight. 'You should be resting.' His voice cuts through the stillness, quiet but edged. He steps closer, fingers closing around the hilt, pulling the weapon from your weak grasp. The weight leaves your hands, but his gaze pins you in place. 'Why did you leave your bed?'