[Part of him wonders if he should tell his father or Jon. Maybe it'd be better to even tell Selina; he doesn't think she'd fret like his father or want to get involved like his friend.
But no. Telling Guren is more than what he wants to do. This is fine.
He's early to the Bluo side of the forest because he has packed, and he's Damian instead of Robin of course. Dextera will likely find him putting specific, intricate knots in some rope while waiting.
One arm is looped through the bow he crafted for the shooting quest, hooking it onto a shoulder. The quiver isn't anything more than stitched scrap of clothing tethered to his waist, and he only has four or five arrows. The sling pack across his chest is about the same state of affairs: stitched scrap with a few flapped pockets. Provisions probably.
The Waynes have no powers, so he has to be prepared.]
[ dextera almost forgets that his neck is bruised up from a certain somebody!!! until he’s starting to leave the house. the strangle marks from his brother have mostly faded, and they’ve been replaced with various love bites of various sizes, and dextera winces at himself in the mirror. don’t look at him, damian… don’t look. ]
…?
[ dextera forgets to hide his neck as he approaches, anyway, since he’s more interested in damian’s supplies. ]
[Welp. That is absolutely the first place Damian looks because he's a Bat. His brows pinch just a bit; however, he doesn't say anything about them at first.]
Ropes for snares. It'll be easier and less dangerous to try trapping something humanely than capturing it with our hands. [He doesn't stop in finishing off a knot. His eyes flick from Dextera's face to Dextera's neck then down at his hands.] What are those?
[ dextera was fully prepared to just grab something with his stupid bare hands, but damian, as always, has the better idea. he doesn’t know how to capture anything except his chickens, and that’s only because they’re receptive to being held. ]
…
[ those… are nothing. dextera covers the side of his neck with one hand. ]
[Dextera... you can't just... cover up... choke marks with... love bites...]
Bruises. [He twines the ropes around his palms and his elbows to neatly tuck them into loops for carrying.] I'm thirteen, but I'm not an idiot.
Superficial blood vessels burst in the neck when there's suction applied to the thinner skin. You've also been strangled.
[Hmm.]
There's a high mortality rate in males practicing erotic asphyxiation. [Are you happy to have this conversation with a deadpan thirteen year old?] I don't want to hear about what you do in private, but you could at least put them somewhere less noticeable.
[ IT’S REALLY GREAT THAT YOU’RE A DETECTIVE, DAMIAN ]
…
[ it’s not like dextera decided to get strangled or to have guren mark up his neck—or rather, he didn’t plan out his timeline for privacy with guren to happen to work out with meeting damian like this. please. have mercy. ]
Two different people. [ hm, this conversation is bad ] Not… erotic.
[ just so he’s clear on that—only the strangling was not sexy, which was really the crux of this issue, right? dextera isn’t into erotic asphyxiation that he knows. ]
[While not at all convinced, and it shows on his face, Damian doesn't have the motivation to pry it the minefield that is Dextera's sex life to sort out strangulation and hickeys. Well, more so than he already has.
For now, there's no way for him to pick out the guilty parties. He doesn't even know Guren and Dextera are an item, and he doesn't think Dextera's brother would so quickly try to choke Dextera out.
All he knows is "don't worry, it's fixed" means they are people Dextera wants to protect. People close to him.
Damian's eyes look over Dextera's neck again, and then he turns around to head into the forest. Aside from the warnings, Damian is surprisingly lacking in judgment. Weirdest thirteen year old ever.] Fine. Come on.
[ thank you, damian. dextera visibly relaxes, since damian’s guess is correct—they’re the closest people to him that exist right now, and even if guren had been the one to choke dextera, dextera probably would have protected him like this, too. gotta work on that self-esteem, buddy!
he follows damian, considering his own powers, what he can do and what he’d like to do. ]
Something… this size. [ he makes a medium-to-small gesture with his hands. ] With color.
Alright. [In truth, Damian doesn't have any say over what gets caught in the snare. If he knows what they're looking for, he can capture and release until they get something appropriate.
He's quiet the rest of the way in, mostly since he seems attentive to the area. They don't have to go far to get the job done, but he knows they have to pick a good spot. Looking up through the trees is only to be sure nothing won't jump them. His focus is usually along the ground, the brush. A few times, he pauses to bend down and inspect tracks.] There.
[He points across the forest floor to the distance.] A trail. [The trap goes in a tight squeeze where there's a lot of concealment from the forest. He has two thick, short sticks that have been carved with notches, and those seem to be the release mechanism when he puts them together with the ropes. Set-up takes about ten minutes.]
Now we wait.
[They won't have to chase with a snare, so Damian leads them a good distance away and behind one of the heavier trees to sit. Whispering is fine; however, Dextera can understand a better method.] The tracks were hooves, but small. Maybe a pig or boar or a goat.
[ dextera watches damian set things up, clearly impressed with it all. he’s never been good with traps—the occasional disk or brand has served him well, but he has none of those here. he’s not sure what would serve to trap an animal, anyway—a paralysis disk? a glue brand? he’s never tried to use one like that, and he’s not sure when he’ll get the chance again.
he nods. ]
You do this often?
[ the execution squad members were much more made for this kind of thing than dextera, but he never had to be stealthy about killing. ]
[ so he can relate. the things he destroyed with his own hands and not with purification would yield him chunks of flesh or hearts, and he would devour it like a banquet laid out before him. ]
[ there’s no way to heal them, but all the monsters he’s fought were people, once. they had lives and dreams and dextera ruined them, and ate them as if that weren’t cruel enough. ]
I see. [Disconcerting. In a way, Damian doesn't have to feel quite so bad about his fucked up sins.] I'm vegetarian. [It's supposed to be a joke, but maybe it falls a little short because of the subject.
For a few minutes, he's quiet without it being awkward. He thoughtfully peers at the ground ahead, but keeps an ear open for the trap behind them, for movement.] What happened after you killed them?
[ …it’s a joke that lands, and dextera finds that a breath of a laugh slips out of him before he can even think about stopping it. a cannibal and a vegetarian walk into a bar…
it’s morbid, but so is dextera’s entire life. ]
Sometimes, nothing. Sometimes, I learned. I never hated them. It’s bittersweet to know who they were.
[He nods, but doesn't have much to say to make Dextera feel better. While he's good with encouragement to keep pushing, keep going, he's not that great with Feelings and Comfort.]
Most people aren't afraid of dying. Some. What people are afraid of is not being remembered. Maybe it was helpful you could know them.
[ not being remembered… indeed. in dextera’s view, that’s the greatest sin anyone could commit, and he managed to do it anyway. he’d forgotten his brother, and for that? strangulation.
oh well! ]
…
[ dextera smiles, just a little, something grateful and wistful in equal measure. ]
Do you really eat-- [It's as much as he gets out before a heavy snapping of branch and brush causes him to look surprised. He quickly motions for Dextera to be quiet, and then he turns to peer around the tree.
A good bit of snares are made to kill the animal immediately, as most hunters don't wait for the trap to be set off. It gives the animal some mercy, a quick death. This one, though, just captures.
The thing looks kind of like a goat, in a way, and both back legs are pinned together to keep it from bouncing off. Whatever it is sounds horrendous; even if it starts as bleating, the end dwindles into something of a whistling song. A bird, maybe. The wings aren't huge, but they're there.
Damian stands and heads out from behind the tree, but he doesn't press forward. His voice is low.] Are you ready? [He glances at Dextera.]
[ whatever the question was that damian was about to ask, the answer would be, with almost 100% certainty, yes. it’s not a nice thing, but at least he’s constant in his diet. ]
…
[ dextera easily settles into “position,” forgetting their conversation nearly instantaneously when they’re faced with what they came here to do. he’s still nervous. he’s sure he’s going to kill it, and then—maybe it would be a waste to just leave it there. he’s not going to think about it until it’s done. he nods, and pulls himself up to full height next to damian. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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I don’t have anything to do. Let’s meet at the forest’s entrance in Bluo in about an hour.
action
[Part of him wonders if he should tell his father or Jon. Maybe it'd be better to even tell Selina; he doesn't think she'd fret like his father or want to get involved like his friend.
But no. Telling Guren is more than what he wants to do. This is fine.
He's early to the Bluo side of the forest because he has packed, and he's Damian instead of Robin of course. Dextera will likely find him putting specific, intricate knots in some rope while waiting.
One arm is looped through the bow he crafted for the shooting quest, hooking it onto a shoulder. The quiver isn't anything more than stitched scrap of clothing tethered to his waist, and he only has four or five arrows. The sling pack across his chest is about the same state of affairs: stitched scrap with a few flapped pockets. Provisions probably.
The Waynes have no powers, so he has to be prepared.]
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…?
[ dextera forgets to hide his neck as he approaches, anyway, since he’s more interested in damian’s supplies. ]
Hello. [ a distracted greeting. ] What are those?
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Ropes for snares. It'll be easier and less dangerous to try trapping something humanely than capturing it with our hands. [He doesn't stop in finishing off a knot. His eyes flick from Dextera's face to Dextera's neck then down at his hands.] What are those?
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…
[ those… are nothing. dextera covers the side of his neck with one hand. ]
Bruises.
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Bruises. [He twines the ropes around his palms and his elbows to neatly tuck them into loops for carrying.] I'm thirteen, but I'm not an idiot.
Superficial blood vessels burst in the neck when there's suction applied to the thinner skin. You've also been strangled.
[Hmm.]
There's a high mortality rate in males practicing erotic asphyxiation. [Are you happy to have this conversation with a deadpan thirteen year old?] I don't want to hear about what you do in private, but you could at least put them somewhere less noticeable.
i hate this thread
…
[ it’s not like dextera decided to get strangled or to have guren mark up his neck—or rather, he didn’t plan out his timeline for privacy with guren to happen to work out with meeting damian like this. please. have mercy. ]
Two different people. [ hm, this conversation is bad ] Not… erotic.
remember this the next time you sin
You're saying two different people attacked you; one tried to strangle you, and the other tried to suck your neck?
[Dextera is into masochism and vampires. OK.]
Who?
take it back
…the latter, erotic.
[ just so he’s clear on that—only the strangling was not sexy, which was really the crux of this issue, right? dextera isn’t into erotic asphyxiation that he knows. ]
Don’t worry. It’s fixed.
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For now, there's no way for him to pick out the guilty parties. He doesn't even know Guren and Dextera are an item, and he doesn't think Dextera's brother would so quickly try to choke Dextera out.
All he knows is "don't worry, it's fixed" means they are people Dextera wants to protect. People close to him.
Damian's eyes look over Dextera's neck again, and then he turns around to head into the forest. Aside from the warnings, Damian is surprisingly lacking in judgment. Weirdest thirteen year old ever.] Fine. Come on.
What do you want to try to capture first?
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he follows damian, considering his own powers, what he can do and what he’d like to do. ]
Something… this size. [ he makes a medium-to-small gesture with his hands. ] With color.
[ as for an actual animal? he has no idea. ]
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He's quiet the rest of the way in, mostly since he seems attentive to the area. They don't have to go far to get the job done, but he knows they have to pick a good spot. Looking up through the trees is only to be sure nothing won't jump them. His focus is usually along the ground, the brush. A few times, he pauses to bend down and inspect tracks.] There.
[He points across the forest floor to the distance.] A trail. [The trap goes in a tight squeeze where there's a lot of concealment from the forest. He has two thick, short sticks that have been carved with notches, and those seem to be the release mechanism when he puts them together with the ropes. Set-up takes about ten minutes.]
Now we wait.
[They won't have to chase with a snare, so Damian leads them a good distance away and behind one of the heavier trees to sit. Whispering is fine; however, Dextera can understand a better method.] The tracks were hooves, but small. Maybe a pig or boar or a goat.
It might take a while.
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he nods. ]
You do this often?
[ the execution squad members were much more made for this kind of thing than dextera, but he never had to be stealthy about killing. ]
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[Are these good skills? Sure. Was Talia a good mother in teaching them? Mmmmmmm.]
She taught me to hunt, and then I had to or starve. If you couldn't even get your own food, you didn't deserve to live or be an assassin.
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I ate what I killed.
[ so he can relate. the things he destroyed with his own hands and not with purification would yield him chunks of flesh or hearts, and he would devour it like a banquet laid out before him. ]
No time to hunt.
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[The look he gives Dextera from the side is strange and unreadable.]
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[ it’s a soft sound, but one made with his mouth nonetheless. a glance toward the snare tells him that he didn’t scare anything away, at least. ]
Killing “them”… was defensive. The difference. Maybe.
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What were they? Animals? [Wait. Dextera is like "an apostle"?] ...People?
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…they were. [ he pauses. ] Not anymore.
[ there’s no way to heal them, but all the monsters he’s fought were people, once. they had lives and dreams and dextera ruined them, and ate them as if that weren’t cruel enough. ]
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I see. [Disconcerting. In a way, Damian doesn't have to feel quite so bad about his fucked up sins.] I'm vegetarian. [It's supposed to be a joke, but maybe it falls a little short because of the subject.
For a few minutes, he's quiet without it being awkward. He thoughtfully peers at the ground ahead, but keeps an ear open for the trap behind them, for movement.] What happened after you killed them?
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it’s morbid, but so is dextera’s entire life. ]
Sometimes, nothing. Sometimes, I learned. I never hated them. It’s bittersweet to know who they were.
[ he shakes his head. ]
I hope these animals are just that.
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Most people aren't afraid of dying. Some. What people are afraid of is not being remembered. Maybe it was helpful you could know them.
You... recycled their physical body.
?
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oh well! ]
…
[ dextera smiles, just a little, something grateful and wistful in equal measure. ]
Sounds efficient. I’ll take it. Thank you.
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Do you really eat-- [It's as much as he gets out before a heavy snapping of branch and brush causes him to look surprised. He quickly motions for Dextera to be quiet, and then he turns to peer around the tree.
A good bit of snares are made to kill the animal immediately, as most hunters don't wait for the trap to be set off. It gives the animal some mercy, a quick death. This one, though, just captures.
The thing looks kind of like a goat, in a way, and both back legs are pinned together to keep it from bouncing off. Whatever it is sounds horrendous; even if it starts as bleating, the end dwindles into something of a whistling song. A bird, maybe. The wings aren't huge, but they're there.
Damian stands and heads out from behind the tree, but he doesn't press forward. His voice is low.] Are you ready? [He glances at Dextera.]
no subject
…
[ dextera easily settles into “position,” forgetting their conversation nearly instantaneously when they’re faced with what they came here to do. he’s still nervous. he’s sure he’s going to kill it, and then—maybe it would be a waste to just leave it there. he’s not going to think about it until it’s done. he nods, and pulls himself up to full height next to damian. ]
Stand back.
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