03-16-2017, 08:27 PM
[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: auto; font-size: 8.6pt; font-family:verdana; text-align:justify; line-height: 1.4; width: 500px"]Damian's accustomed to the feel of the floor beneath him, or the earth, uneven and damp, if it's particularly bad, but it isn't something he'd thought about since he'd left it behind, bare feet taken and shod so that he didn't have to stumble over the frostbite. There are ups and downs to everyone's lives, and when put against before, this is comparable to Eden  though now, he's beginning to learn to distinguish between a physical pain and something that can't be seen on the skin unless he puts it there himself. There's a difference, he's discovered, because eyes-closed-and-rocking doesn't fix the physical sort of pain, and sure, it doesn't exactly fix this, but it helps a damn site more than it would've had the real issue been a bruise or a scrape. (Not that part of the issue isn't a bruise or a scrape, but they were his methods of coping with the problem that settled within his gut, so he doesn't really see them as bad like he should do, instead opting to survey them, when necessary, with a blank and disinterested gaze.)
He's never been good at timekeeping, but the last few weeks have passed without him really realising, though without being particularly fast, either. It's an indescribable sort of sensation, the drifting feeling of nothingness; without ever really sleeping, he floats in and out of consciousness, rarely remembering the content of his day and likely doing nothing of any significance, anyway. Win's disappearance has reduced him to nothing more than a ghost, a phantom that lurks in the corners, flinching away when looked at, only coming out at night. And, like a ghost, he's needed no sustenance  or, if he has eaten, it has been in those times of unawareness, for he can't recall anything along the lines of food. He found a knife a few days ago, and that's the last thing he can remember: wrapping his grubby fingers around the hilt and holding it a little too close to his face, trying to see his reflection in the black blade. He almost stabbed Titus, but some part of his addled brain stopped him before he did, and he turned his attention towards the mouthless bat that often dangles from his hand, and now, he drags around its corpse.
How many people have to leave a child before that child realises that home is not for them, that adults always lie and relationships are as inconstant as the wind? Is it a value that can be measured, or is the breaking point inspired by the depth of the bond that was severed in the first place? He can't remember much of his mother, isn't even aware of the fact that mother is what he should refer to her as, for to him, she's the lady, and the countless people who ignored him on the streets didn't do much to offend him, because the alienation he felt made him seem more like a feral animal than anything else. Any attempts to speak actual words after that point were coaxed out of him by these people, the ones who bothered to do more than throw him a sympathetic look and the butt of a loaf of bread.
He hasn't seen much of Stevie lately, or of Dick, but he's been acutely aware that they haven't fully left him. Only partially, drifting into hollow spaces that let them leave the cage of his ribs, and sure, the tight fit forced him to mould into a new shape, but it's nothing like the splintering of someone storming out entirely, and that is a wound that still hasn't healed. He knows that it's not entirely physical  the barren wasteland of his mind yields that much, in an abstract sense  but he's pinpointed the hurt, drummed out a bruise on his flesh over the point where it aches the most, considered cutting it out of his chest with his knife  but that seems wrong, and Titus whines whenever the blade is turned towards paling flesh, so Damian has left it alone. Still, the thought returns to him now, and he blinks glazed eyes until they seem a little more alive, because Dick's here, and Stevie is, too, and he's not seen them in a while, and the nights are dark and scary without them.
He blinks slowly, looking from Dick's feet to Stevie's, then from hers to Cam's (he's not seen her for a while, either, but then again, he hasn't seen anyone, hasn't seen anything), to Johannes', to Marauder's. Titus noses against his shoulder, a cold press against colder skin, and Damian draws in a ragged, uneasy breath, flexing a hand against his stomach, resting against the knife there. This time, he looks straight at Win, not at his face, but at his chest, as though he can't force his eyes any higher, and his expression is that of somebody who doesn't recognise what he's looking at, can't process the scene in front of him. (That's not true, that never will be true, because he knows exactly what's going on now, and it's not that he's woken up yet, but he's damn near close, only this time, he's clinging desperately to the anchor on the seabed, unwilling to breach the surface, afraid of what that means.)
He swallows around nothing, throat dry, and glances, briefly, at the shredded bat in his hand. A heartbeat passes, and he drops it, kicking it forwards and fitting his now-empty palm over Titus' muzzle when it lowers inquisitively. No fetch. He feels dizzy and sick, veins bubbling, but there's enough strength in his legs for him to turn, features still impassive, and walk away, Titus following him without question.
[spoiler= JUST GIVE ME BREATHING SPACE (UPDATED MAR. 17TH)]GENERAL INFORMATION / BIO / PINTEREST BOARD [NEW]
& "Damian Holloway" / Original Name Unknown / [Sort Of] Accepts Nicknames
& Male / Obvious Preference for Male Pronouns / Can Tolerate Neutral Pronouns
& Unknown Sexuality / Unknown Preference / Too Young for Love; Monogamous
& Real Age and Birthdate Unknown / Appears 4-5 Years Old / Unknown Parents
& Adopted Son of Bruce / Baby + ⅙ of the Batfam [Bruce, Dick, Meg, Stevie, Cam]
POSSESSIONS, ITEMS AND PETS / EXTRA NOTES
& CLICK / [TOY] Black and Red Bat Plushie: "Bat" / STATUS: Worn, Well-Loved
& CLICK / [PET] Black Great Dane: "Titus" / AGE: 19 Months / HEALTH: 90%
& CLICK / [WEAPON?] Black Pocket Knife: "George" / STATUS: Sharp, Dangerous
APPEARANCE / REFERENCE / STATUS / DECLINING [60%]
& Refusing to eat. Scratches at his skin obsessively, mainly at his forearms, inner thighs and neck. Covered in bruises and red marks in these areas specifically. Habitually bites at his fingers, which are red and sore as a result, and hits self/pulls own hair when upset or angry.
& Damian stands at around 36" tall and weighs around 27lbs. Still fairly skinny due to a former life of abandonment and malnutrition, he's painfully small, growth seemingly stunted. Has warm, olive-brown skin and freckling on his nose; seems a little paler at the moment, however. His eyes are silver-blue, often shifting between gunmetal grey and a vibrant sapphire depending on how the light shines. Hair is a deep black, soft to the touch and styleless; relatively short, but not overtly so. Has soft, delicate, round features. Tends to wear this hoodie and semi-faded blue jeans.
 INJURIES/ILLNESSES: Malnutrition and scratches from obsessive behaviours.
PERSONALITY / LINKS WILL GO HERE
& Struggling with abandonment issues; developing obsessive coping habits as a result. Will mindlessly scratch at his skin (neck, forearms, inner thighs), bite his fingers and rock back and forth. Fixates on objects and forms emotional attachments to them. Pulls hair and hits self when stressed.
& An absolute sweetheart at this stage. Easily impressionable, overly emotional and caught in a people-pleaser stage. Cautious in the sense that he doesn't really do well with most new people, yet latched onto his family immediately. Other children are sometimes okay, but is quickly spooked by human interaction. Has an awful stutter and lisp; seemingly behind in mental and verbal development, but immensely perceptive. Quiet; communicates using sign language, most of the time, but even that is rare. Only really attempts to speak when around a few select people, and even then, he's uncomfortable with it. Still makes sound, however, it's just nonverbal. An animal lover that struggles with expressing himself; easily angered or upset, and difficult to pull out of the depths of grumpiness, but not an overtly unhappy child. Likes to listen to familiar voices and music. Inquisitive, physically affectionate and strangely gentle. Imaginative. Learning things at his own pace.
 DISORDERS: Apparent developmental issues??
COMBAT AND INTERACTION / CONFRONTATION NOTES
& Physically Pathetic (4/100) / Mentally Easy (10/100) / Completely Vulnerable.
& He's a child; he can't fight. Any attempts to harm him undefended will succeed.
& All nonviolent, friendly and/or peaceful actions can be powerplayed.
 Contact accepted from: Bruce, Dick, Meg, Stevie, Cam Animals, but only if there are no people around.
& To engage in combat, attack using bold black or bold underlined.
He's never been good at timekeeping, but the last few weeks have passed without him really realising, though without being particularly fast, either. It's an indescribable sort of sensation, the drifting feeling of nothingness; without ever really sleeping, he floats in and out of consciousness, rarely remembering the content of his day and likely doing nothing of any significance, anyway. Win's disappearance has reduced him to nothing more than a ghost, a phantom that lurks in the corners, flinching away when looked at, only coming out at night. And, like a ghost, he's needed no sustenance  or, if he has eaten, it has been in those times of unawareness, for he can't recall anything along the lines of food. He found a knife a few days ago, and that's the last thing he can remember: wrapping his grubby fingers around the hilt and holding it a little too close to his face, trying to see his reflection in the black blade. He almost stabbed Titus, but some part of his addled brain stopped him before he did, and he turned his attention towards the mouthless bat that often dangles from his hand, and now, he drags around its corpse.
How many people have to leave a child before that child realises that home is not for them, that adults always lie and relationships are as inconstant as the wind? Is it a value that can be measured, or is the breaking point inspired by the depth of the bond that was severed in the first place? He can't remember much of his mother, isn't even aware of the fact that mother is what he should refer to her as, for to him, she's the lady, and the countless people who ignored him on the streets didn't do much to offend him, because the alienation he felt made him seem more like a feral animal than anything else. Any attempts to speak actual words after that point were coaxed out of him by these people, the ones who bothered to do more than throw him a sympathetic look and the butt of a loaf of bread.
He hasn't seen much of Stevie lately, or of Dick, but he's been acutely aware that they haven't fully left him. Only partially, drifting into hollow spaces that let them leave the cage of his ribs, and sure, the tight fit forced him to mould into a new shape, but it's nothing like the splintering of someone storming out entirely, and that is a wound that still hasn't healed. He knows that it's not entirely physical  the barren wasteland of his mind yields that much, in an abstract sense  but he's pinpointed the hurt, drummed out a bruise on his flesh over the point where it aches the most, considered cutting it out of his chest with his knife  but that seems wrong, and Titus whines whenever the blade is turned towards paling flesh, so Damian has left it alone. Still, the thought returns to him now, and he blinks glazed eyes until they seem a little more alive, because Dick's here, and Stevie is, too, and he's not seen them in a while, and the nights are dark and scary without them.
He blinks slowly, looking from Dick's feet to Stevie's, then from hers to Cam's (he's not seen her for a while, either, but then again, he hasn't seen anyone, hasn't seen anything), to Johannes', to Marauder's. Titus noses against his shoulder, a cold press against colder skin, and Damian draws in a ragged, uneasy breath, flexing a hand against his stomach, resting against the knife there. This time, he looks straight at Win, not at his face, but at his chest, as though he can't force his eyes any higher, and his expression is that of somebody who doesn't recognise what he's looking at, can't process the scene in front of him. (That's not true, that never will be true, because he knows exactly what's going on now, and it's not that he's woken up yet, but he's damn near close, only this time, he's clinging desperately to the anchor on the seabed, unwilling to breach the surface, afraid of what that means.)
He swallows around nothing, throat dry, and glances, briefly, at the shredded bat in his hand. A heartbeat passes, and he drops it, kicking it forwards and fitting his now-empty palm over Titus' muzzle when it lowers inquisitively. No fetch. He feels dizzy and sick, veins bubbling, but there's enough strength in his legs for him to turn, features still impassive, and walk away, Titus following him without question.
[spoiler= JUST GIVE ME BREATHING SPACE (UPDATED MAR. 17TH)]GENERAL INFORMATION / BIO / PINTEREST BOARD [NEW]
& "Damian Holloway" / Original Name Unknown / [Sort Of] Accepts Nicknames
& Male / Obvious Preference for Male Pronouns / Can Tolerate Neutral Pronouns
& Unknown Sexuality / Unknown Preference / Too Young for Love; Monogamous
& Real Age and Birthdate Unknown / Appears 4-5 Years Old / Unknown Parents
& Adopted Son of Bruce / Baby + ⅙ of the Batfam [Bruce, Dick, Meg, Stevie, Cam]
POSSESSIONS, ITEMS AND PETS / EXTRA NOTES
& CLICK / [TOY] Black and Red Bat Plushie: "Bat" / STATUS: Worn, Well-Loved
& CLICK / [PET] Black Great Dane: "Titus" / AGE: 19 Months / HEALTH: 90%
& CLICK / [WEAPON?] Black Pocket Knife: "George" / STATUS: Sharp, Dangerous
APPEARANCE / REFERENCE / STATUS / DECLINING [60%]
& Refusing to eat. Scratches at his skin obsessively, mainly at his forearms, inner thighs and neck. Covered in bruises and red marks in these areas specifically. Habitually bites at his fingers, which are red and sore as a result, and hits self/pulls own hair when upset or angry.
& Damian stands at around 36" tall and weighs around 27lbs. Still fairly skinny due to a former life of abandonment and malnutrition, he's painfully small, growth seemingly stunted. Has warm, olive-brown skin and freckling on his nose; seems a little paler at the moment, however. His eyes are silver-blue, often shifting between gunmetal grey and a vibrant sapphire depending on how the light shines. Hair is a deep black, soft to the touch and styleless; relatively short, but not overtly so. Has soft, delicate, round features. Tends to wear this hoodie and semi-faded blue jeans.
 INJURIES/ILLNESSES: Malnutrition and scratches from obsessive behaviours.
PERSONALITY / LINKS WILL GO HERE
& Struggling with abandonment issues; developing obsessive coping habits as a result. Will mindlessly scratch at his skin (neck, forearms, inner thighs), bite his fingers and rock back and forth. Fixates on objects and forms emotional attachments to them. Pulls hair and hits self when stressed.
& An absolute sweetheart at this stage. Easily impressionable, overly emotional and caught in a people-pleaser stage. Cautious in the sense that he doesn't really do well with most new people, yet latched onto his family immediately. Other children are sometimes okay, but is quickly spooked by human interaction. Has an awful stutter and lisp; seemingly behind in mental and verbal development, but immensely perceptive. Quiet; communicates using sign language, most of the time, but even that is rare. Only really attempts to speak when around a few select people, and even then, he's uncomfortable with it. Still makes sound, however, it's just nonverbal. An animal lover that struggles with expressing himself; easily angered or upset, and difficult to pull out of the depths of grumpiness, but not an overtly unhappy child. Likes to listen to familiar voices and music. Inquisitive, physically affectionate and strangely gentle. Imaginative. Learning things at his own pace.
 DISORDERS: Apparent developmental issues??
COMBAT AND INTERACTION / CONFRONTATION NOTES
& Physically Pathetic (4/100) / Mentally Easy (10/100) / Completely Vulnerable.
& He's a child; he can't fight. Any attempts to harm him undefended will succeed.
& All nonviolent, friendly and/or peaceful actions can be powerplayed.
 Contact accepted from: Bruce, Dick, Meg, Stevie, Cam Animals, but only if there are no people around.
& To engage in combat, attack using bold black or bold underlined.
[align=center]james drachen / julian devorak / damian holloway / timothy haywood
new subs being made // old ones merged
new subs being made // old ones merged