Demons (Damirae)

Chapter Sixty-Three

It was odd to think about, that if Damian and Raven hadn't left the League and Hell respectively, they would have connected in two juxtaposing instances. Either a greater alliance would be formed between the two legendary houses of Al Ghul and Ad Djinn through their tying of souls (matrimony)... or they would partake in a bloody war of ancient prejudices and millennia of bad blood. Thank the gods for this outcome.

Damian's brow furrowed, he shook his head once, then stood up. Assuming the correct stance and posture, Damian placed the bow on the A string. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

His eyes fell shut and the first note hummed in the air, then the second, and the third, and he lost himself in the haunting song of his childhood,

The next day, after a night of contemplation and a regular morning of training and tea-drinking, Damian curled up in the refuge of the safe space provided by three conveniently placed bookcases, leaning against the comforting wooden walls, slumped on to a bean-bag finessed from Grayson's room. He figures Dick wouldn't mind if he used it while the acrobat was at work.

Eyes flicking from side to side as he devoured the page's contents, Damian's finger slid down the side of the paper, relishing in that irreplaceable feeling of a well-worn and well-loved classic. A Tale of Two Cities. No doubt his father had read this when he was a boy- his father has told him of his boyhood obsession with Charles Dickens.

There was a musty, warm atmosphere to the library that no other room in the Manor could replicate. It was like this place, with its aged walls and worn couches, dusty books and extravagant yet faded carpets, was an entire other world. A large safe space with nooks and crannies to hide in when everything else became overwhelming.

Damian checked his watch: it was only ten AM, the day was still in its infancy. Leaving a strip of leather on the page he left at (an unconventional bookmark) Damian closed the novel, squirming his way off the bean-bag. Carrying the large bag of synthetic beads in one hand and the book in the other, he walked through the library, feet cushioned by the plush carpet. The mahogany door with the brass handle was in sight when a voice called out.

"What're you reading?"

Damian turned to the black-haired girl sitting on of the sofas, sipping something from a mug. Several books and a laptop sat besides her.

"A Tale of Two Cities. For the seventh time.", he tilted his head. "And you, what are you doing Cassandra? I haven't seen you in six days."

His sister sighed, passing an eye over the data collectors around her, "There's a situation. A contact asked for help, I'm having some trouble delivering on that promise."

Dropping the stolen item where he stood, Damian approached Cassandra, taking a seat on the sofa with the tech between the two of them. Setting the book down on a table besides the sofa, Damian mimicked her analysis of the information before them, scanning over data, descriptions, eyewitness accounts and so on.

"I've scoured Gotham from head to toe. No sign of any individual fitting the descriptions given.", Cass explained.

Damian read though the recounts, eyes narrowing: one of the documents open on the laptop told of the theft of a precious item that was 'very dear' to the owner. The open books revealed all the Wayne Manor library's information (quite inaccurate from what Damian could see) about magical artefacts. He beheld pages divulging the possible amulets, weapons and power stores utilised by magicians in the practice of magic.