Damian Wayne (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bratwonder) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2013-07-09 02:59 am
bratwonder) wrote in thearena2013-07-09 02:59 am
Entry tags:
"Some men just want to watch the world burn."
Who| Damian Wayne and anyone!
What| Burning a body turns out to be a less-than-awesome idea. Fire and sickness ensue, w h o o p s.
Where| Candy arena.
When| Middle of week two.
Warnings/Notes| Nothing in particular! I'll edit as necessary.
Nightfall was welcome. Damian reveled in it. It was about damn time that the bright, obnoxious colors of this world dimmed and the song of those stupid creatures faded away. As much as he enjoyed it, though, it was time to disrupt the night. He had a duty to at least one of those fallen tributes, regardless of how whiny and annoying said tribute happened to be.
Early on, Damian had made it a point to get that body somewhere a little less public. There were no battoys to be stolen or secret identities to be found out, but the fact that the bodies had been left strewn about, like old dolls that the gamemakers had grown tired of, disgusted Damian beyond belief. These people didn't deserve that. If he could do something about all of them, he would, but he couldn't. He could barely stand to be around them at this point, with how badly they'd deteriorated.
He held his breath as he struck the match and dropped it onto the rotting, sugar-covered body of some whiny guy named Tim Drake. He wasn't doing this for him, he told himself. It was for them. It was for the symbol that united them. He intended to honor it even if they weren't wearing it. It was also a "fuck you" to the gamemakers or whoever the hell thought it was acceptable to leave the bodies of (mostly) innocent people lying around like they were nothing.
Damian couldn't hold his breath forever, though. Eventually, he has to take in the awful smell of smoke and rot and something vaguely toxic, and if he wasn't feeling sick before, he's definitely feeling it now. So, you know, don't mind Damian. While the fire spreads (whoops...), he'll just be over here. Throwing up. No big deal.
He told Dick once that he wouldn't let the dead get to him anymore, but you know what? This really sucks.
What| Burning a body turns out to be a less-than-awesome idea. Fire and sickness ensue, w h o o p s.
Where| Candy arena.
When| Middle of week two.
Warnings/Notes| Nothing in particular! I'll edit as necessary.
Nightfall was welcome. Damian reveled in it. It was about damn time that the bright, obnoxious colors of this world dimmed and the song of those stupid creatures faded away. As much as he enjoyed it, though, it was time to disrupt the night. He had a duty to at least one of those fallen tributes, regardless of how whiny and annoying said tribute happened to be.
Early on, Damian had made it a point to get that body somewhere a little less public. There were no battoys to be stolen or secret identities to be found out, but the fact that the bodies had been left strewn about, like old dolls that the gamemakers had grown tired of, disgusted Damian beyond belief. These people didn't deserve that. If he could do something about all of them, he would, but he couldn't. He could barely stand to be around them at this point, with how badly they'd deteriorated.
He held his breath as he struck the match and dropped it onto the rotting, sugar-covered body of some whiny guy named Tim Drake. He wasn't doing this for him, he told himself. It was for them. It was for the symbol that united them. He intended to honor it even if they weren't wearing it. It was also a "fuck you" to the gamemakers or whoever the hell thought it was acceptable to leave the bodies of (mostly) innocent people lying around like they were nothing.
Damian couldn't hold his breath forever, though. Eventually, he has to take in the awful smell of smoke and rot and something vaguely toxic, and if he wasn't feeling sick before, he's definitely feeling it now. So, you know, don't mind Damian. While the fire spreads (whoops...), he'll just be over here. Throwing up. No big deal.
He told Dick once that he wouldn't let the dead get to him anymore, but you know what? This really sucks.
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"He would deserve it." The thought hadn't even occurred to Damian, but you know what? He could totally get behind that. "Next time, you have my full permission to draw facial hair on him. I doubt he could grow his own anyway."
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"..."
No. No, he doesn't get it.
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God, introductions are awkward. She wants to go back to being famous and getting to skip the A/S/L crap.