That should be what he wanted. The old man was gone, he was finally free of his father and his concern that the people he'd come to care for would favor the old man instead. He's gone and Damian no longer feels the weight of his shadow.
It wasn't his father.
He knows this.
But he finds himself... conflicted. Lost. Elated, but... almost mourning. Feeling some fresh wound he'd thought long healed suddenly tear open again.
He's settled in the living room, his back to the door, a real canvas in front of him with real paint in hand. Not really thinking about what he wants to do, just letting his mind wander and just kind of go places with feelings and colors. He has music on, he's not listening to the door. He's hyperfocused on something that isn't violence, and its starting to take shape.
It's far better stress relief than busting his knuckles on the floor. ]
no subject
That should be what he wanted. The old man was gone, he was finally free of his father and his concern that the people he'd come to care for would favor the old man instead. He's gone and Damian no longer feels the weight of his shadow.
It wasn't his father.
He knows this.
But he finds himself... conflicted. Lost. Elated, but... almost mourning. Feeling some fresh wound he'd thought long healed suddenly tear open again.
He's settled in the living room, his back to the door, a real canvas in front of him with real paint in hand. Not really thinking about what he wants to do, just letting his mind wander and just kind of go places with feelings and colors. He has music on, he's not listening to the door. He's hyperfocused on something that isn't violence, and its starting to take shape.
It's far better stress relief than busting his knuckles on the floor. ]