[The question isn't one Damian expects someone to ask. Not many people care about the feelings of animals, especially not ones that aren't cats or dogs. His eyes shift to Leliel, watching her inspect the hutch.]
No one knows. Not really. Sometimes, hens will fuss a little when laying. I doubt it hurts very much. [He glances back to Dextera.] You should ask them.
[ damian has a point. he could just ask, but it feels strangely personal? like asking a woman about giving birth, or something equally intimate. he might try anyway, but he doesn't want to offend leliel's delicate sensibilities. ]
Later. [ his brow furrows slightly, as he looks at his pet. ] Sensitive.
[Sensitive? Damian slowly turns his attention again to Leliel. He guesses hearing them talk would add a whole new level of depth to them. Hens. Hm. He had told Dextera they were pretty empathetic.] I suppose.
[He doesn't exactly know how Leliel is other than what he can see right now.] Maybe she'll appreciate that you even bothered to ask her at all. If you like her eggs, she's probably just happy that she's able to make you happy.
[Is that how mothers were supposed to be? Damian doesn't know... But his father, he thinks his father would be that way at least.]
[ does leliel like him that much? dextera certainly hopes so—he’s done what he can to keep her happy and healthy, and if laying eggs is going to continue to do that, he’s more than willing to facilitate that for her. he just wants to keep something alive. ]
That’s love.
[ with a little, almost self-deprecating smile, like he knows it’s silly to say such a thing about the feelings of a hen. who knows if chickens are even capable of love? ]
[Oh. Damian doesn't exactly know much about love. Or perhaps, he does know a good deal more about love now, yet chooses not to think about it because it's embarrassing for him, a boy who can't get it right.
He knows he loves his father.
Saying it out loud to anyone but his father, however, is something he'd love to avoid at all costs. But if anything, Damian believes wholeheartedly in the unconditional love of animals. They've never judged him. They never betray him. They never disown him.]
If you can talk to her, you can tell her.
[That's about all he can say on it, and even now, he's rubbing the back of his neck.]
[ ...damian seems like a sweet kid. serious, perhaps, to a fault—but anyone who likes animals to the degree that he does can't be all bad. there's something in the human consciousness that makes sure dextera is perfectly aware that empathy toward animals is the sign of a good person. ]
Thank you, D. [ he gestures to the hutch, after a pause, a gentle shift of topic to let damian know that dextera won't be pushing this embarrassing subject.
love! who even knows about it? more importantly, there are some other things they can still do now to make this house as comfortable as possible for the chickens. the nest, the feeders—it's all very exciting, and as long as damian feels like doing it, dextera is happy to lend a hand. ]
Time?
[ the next important question, since he's not sure if damian has... other plans, today. ]
[After a long pause, he says:] Damian. [Really, he shouldn't clarify anything. Really, he should just come up with another moniker. This place was completely new, and no one here knew him except the three adults that lead the same lifestyle.
He could have come up with a whole different person. Damian Wayne wouldn't have to exist. He could start over.
But Damian Wayne is who he is, and he can't forsake that. Robin is a position, a mantle he respects more than anything, but it isn't him. It's something that can be put on and taken off. Damian is who he can't run from.] My name. It's Damian. [Spoken firmly, but with a hint of... caution, as if he thinks Dextera is going to know him somehow, judge him.
[ dextera nods, and with that information—the chickens around them, too, everything in this moment—he offers damian a particular name in sign. the D of his name is a necessity, of course, but then he lightly taps his fingers together next to his mouth, like mimicking the tweeting of a bird. italian sign language!!
it seems right, he thinks. he can't explain why—but what an honor it is, from dextera, who loves birds. ]
[Dextera won't necessarily understand why a bit of surprise softens his face at the naming. D. Bird. Damian. Being Robin does mean quite a lot to him. It's fitting, without Dextera knowing.
Or maybe Dextera knows better than anyone.
Gently, he nods, politely accepting the privilege of being Named. Slowly, faintly, the hint of a smile curls the corners of his lips up. It's more of a smirk, but whatever, tak it or leave it. It's not something he does often in earnest.] Damian.
[He folds the D into his fingers, then pinches them by his lips like the beak of a bird. Tweet, tweet.]
[ dextera will take a smirk, since damian could have just as easily given him nothing, or even have denied the name. this is something exciting to him, being able to put care in the way people are called—they have names of their own, of course, but this goes even beyond that. how special, how new.
tweet tweet! dextera is happy that damian seems happy, and with that much established and the moment shared, he turns his head back toward the house. ]
Supplies. [ he says. if damian has time... ] Feeders.
[Damian follows Dextera's gaze to the house, and then he nods.] It'd take a sharp blade and unreasonable amount of time to make shavings from wood. You're better off with hay or straw, if possible.
But if we can't find any, we'll just dig up the grass and pack down the dirt. You can use old clothing for the egg box. [Feeders.] Do you have any aluminum cans? [He's not sure... when or where Dextera is from, so he signs out "aluminum" just in case.] Or--better still: pipe? A bucket?
You wouldn't have to hang them then. We could place them up higher.
[ believe it or not, despite these clothes, dextera is from... the 21st century. all of this is rather rustic to him, actually, so he's completely unfamiliar with most of the skills that this town practically begs them to have.
aluminum, needless to say, is perfectly familiar to him, so he nods along with damian's queries. there's hay around the town, he knows, if he can borrow some from all the people who have to feed their horses—it has color, too, which is a lucky thing even if it's not strictly necessary for thing that the chickens are just going to be scratching along.
so he guides damian into the house, extremely trusting, and pulls down some empty cans that probably once contained some unfortunate food. there are no pipes around, or buckets going unused, but cans? they got plenty. ]
The cans should be just fine, more so because Damian Wayne is going to be the one getting a hold of them. He follows Dextera into the house, but tells Ace to stay at the door.
While Dextera gets the cans, he glances clinically around the place out of habit, and then he inspects the cans when they're retrieved. After a moment or two, he nods.] These are fine. [He tucks two under his arm, then holds a third in that hand. With the other, he pulls something out of the vice of the cloth belt just inside the layered robe.
It's black and shaped like the silhouette of a bat, and upon closer inspection, it resembles something like a shuriken. Apparently, it's decently sharp; when Damian uses it to dice the side of the can, it cuts through as if the can is butter.
He twists, creating a wide hole, then turns the can so he can use the flat side of the weapon to flatten the edges on the inside. After, he inspects the can again.] This'll work until I can make a box feeder with wood.
[ that is, frankly... an incredible talent, and dextera has to wonder where damian got something so sharp. he seems like a capable enough kid, but such a thing is beyond dangerous—but then, dextera has learned not to judge a book by its cover. the last person he judged as a kid turned out to be a minor deity, so maybe it's really not up to him to make impressions of people's skills. ]
...
[ he holds out his hand for the can, hopefully, so that he can inspect it for himself even if he has no idea what he's looking for. he just likes to learn! ]
[Without hesitation, Damian hands the can off to Dextera.] I'll put holes around the can, big enough for their beaks. When you fill it, the pressure will keep the food from pouring out until they peck it.
With water... For now, it's best to use a simple can. I'll make you one that has a funnel they can peck for water, if I can find the materials.
[Damian nods at the can Dextera is holding.] The can holes are sharp, so you have to push them down on the inside. This is all very... elementary, but it'll do until we can make something better.
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No one knows. Not really. Sometimes, hens will fuss a little when laying. I doubt it hurts very much. [He glances back to Dextera.] You should ask them.
You still have the potion, right?
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[ damian has a point. he could just ask, but it feels strangely personal? like asking a woman about giving birth, or something equally intimate. he might try anyway, but he doesn't want to offend leliel's delicate sensibilities. ]
Later. [ his brow furrows slightly, as he looks at his pet. ] Sensitive.
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[He doesn't exactly know how Leliel is other than what he can see right now.] Maybe she'll appreciate that you even bothered to ask her at all. If you like her eggs, she's probably just happy that she's able to make you happy.
[Is that how mothers were supposed to be? Damian doesn't know... But his father, he thinks his father would be that way at least.]
So it wouldn't matter if it was uncomfortable.
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[ does leliel like him that much? dextera certainly hopes so—he’s done what he can to keep her happy and healthy, and if laying eggs is going to continue to do that, he’s more than willing to facilitate that for her. he just wants to keep something alive. ]
That’s love.
[ with a little, almost self-deprecating smile, like he knows it’s silly to say such a thing about the feelings of a hen. who knows if chickens are even capable of love? ]
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He knows he loves his father.
Saying it out loud to anyone but his father, however, is something he'd love to avoid at all costs. But if anything, Damian believes wholeheartedly in the unconditional love of animals. They've never judged him. They never betray him. They never disown him.]
If you can talk to her, you can tell her.
[That's about all he can say on it, and even now, he's rubbing the back of his neck.]
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Thank you, D. [ he gestures to the hutch, after a pause, a gentle shift of topic to let damian know that dextera won't be pushing this embarrassing subject.
love! who even knows about it? more importantly, there are some other things they can still do now to make this house as comfortable as possible for the chickens. the nest, the feeders—it's all very exciting, and as long as damian feels like doing it, dextera is happy to lend a hand. ]
Time?
[ the next important question, since he's not sure if damian has... other plans, today. ]
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He could have come up with a whole different person. Damian Wayne wouldn't have to exist. He could start over.
But Damian Wayne is who he is, and he can't forsake that. Robin is a position, a mantle he respects more than anything, but it isn't him. It's something that can be put on and taken off. Damian is who he can't run from.] My name. It's Damian. [Spoken firmly, but with a hint of... caution, as if he thinks Dextera is going to know him somehow, judge him.
Ah yes, Bruce Wayne's monstrous child, Damian.]
I have time.
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it seems right, he thinks. he can't explain why—but what an honor it is, from dextera, who loves birds. ]
...?
[ will damian accept such a name? ]
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Or maybe Dextera knows better than anyone.
Gently, he nods, politely accepting the privilege of being Named. Slowly, faintly, the hint of a smile curls the corners of his lips up. It's more of a smirk, but whatever, tak it or leave it. It's not something he does often in earnest.] Damian.
[He folds the D into his fingers, then pinches them by his lips like the beak of a bird. Tweet, tweet.]
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tweet tweet! dextera is happy that damian seems happy, and with that much established and the moment shared, he turns his head back toward the house. ]
Supplies. [ he says. if damian has time... ] Feeders.
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But if we can't find any, we'll just dig up the grass and pack down the dirt. You can use old clothing for the egg box. [Feeders.] Do you have any aluminum cans? [He's not sure... when or where Dextera is from, so he signs out "aluminum" just in case.] Or--better still: pipe? A bucket?
You wouldn't have to hang them then. We could place them up higher.
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aluminum, needless to say, is perfectly familiar to him, so he nods along with damian's queries. there's hay around the town, he knows, if he can borrow some from all the people who have to feed their horses—it has color, too, which is a lucky thing even if it's not strictly necessary for thing that the chickens are just going to be scratching along.
so he guides damian into the house, extremely trusting, and pulls down some empty cans that probably once contained some unfortunate food. there are no pipes around, or buckets going unused, but cans? they got plenty. ]
...?
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The cans should be just fine, more so because Damian Wayne is going to be the one getting a hold of them. He follows Dextera into the house, but tells Ace to stay at the door.
While Dextera gets the cans, he glances clinically around the place out of habit, and then he inspects the cans when they're retrieved. After a moment or two, he nods.] These are fine. [He tucks two under his arm, then holds a third in that hand. With the other, he pulls something out of the vice of the cloth belt just inside the layered robe.
It's black and shaped like the silhouette of a bat, and upon closer inspection, it resembles something like a shuriken. Apparently, it's decently sharp; when Damian uses it to dice the side of the can, it cuts through as if the can is butter.
He twists, creating a wide hole, then turns the can so he can use the flat side of the weapon to flatten the edges on the inside. After, he inspects the can again.] This'll work until I can make a box feeder with wood.
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...
[ he holds out his hand for the can, hopefully, so that he can inspect it for himself even if he has no idea what he's looking for. he just likes to learn! ]
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With water... For now, it's best to use a simple can. I'll make you one that has a funnel they can peck for water, if I can find the materials.
[Damian nods at the can Dextera is holding.] The can holes are sharp, so you have to push them down on the inside. This is all very... elementary, but it'll do until we can make something better.