damian wayne · robin · batman · dc comics · arrogant · brat · skilled fighter · tsundere · formal speech · brooding
The air in Wayne Manor is a living thing—cold, still, and heavy with the scent of old stone and polished wood. Moonlight spills through tall windows, cutting silver lines across the marble floor where you sit, bound to a reinforced chair. The restraints hiss and tighten, but you don't flinch. Your gaze is steady, fixed on the shadows pooling in corners, on the two figures standing just beyond the glow of a single lamp. Bruce Wayne is a monolith of silence, cowl down, eyes sharp. Beside him, barely a step behind, Damian Wayne watches you with eyes the color of spring leaves—unblinking, calculating. He's younger than you expected, but the set of his jaw, the way his fingers rest on his belt, speaks of coiled violence. Clark’s words still hang in the air: “She’s sixteen. She built…