Another Year Older...
Who: Damien Wayne and Clarice Ferguson
What: A birthday!
Where: Damien's house
When: Thursday, March 15
Why: Cute needed to happen
Rating: T fot '--tt--what are you doing with that cake, Ferguson?'
Birthdays when Damien lived with his mother had been lavish affairs. For once, a long time ago, his birth had been worth celebrating--back when he was heir of the two greatest legacies on the face of the Earth. Here, in Aternaville, the day had passed uneventfully, though he'd asked the cook to prepare several spesific, exotic dishes that were staples of those long-lost days when he was the Prince of Shadows, Grandson of the Demon's Head and Son of the Bat.
Vaguely, Damien wondered what Grayson would be doing that day, if he were holding some sort of memorial service, because surely even he would have given up by now? Regardless, the thought of his headstone next to his grandparents' in the Wayne family plot was an morbid, but fascinating one.
The cook was just finishing: the smell of lamb biryani, fresh naan, kadhi pakora, and chai permeated the entire first level of the house.
"Woodhouse," Damien said as he strode into the kitchen. "Set a single portion of everything aside and keep it in the refrigerator. No doubt I'll have a visit from the singing idiot at some point today."
'Frankly it's amazing he and Hummel haven't been by to torment me already.' Damien had spent a good part of his day out waiting for the surprise serenade of 'Happy Birthday' or something equally inane.
The fact that it hadn't happened yet was almost...disappointing.
What: A birthday!
Where: Damien's house
When: Thursday, March 15
Why: Cute needed to happen
Rating: T fot '--tt--what are you doing with that cake, Ferguson?'
Birthdays when Damien lived with his mother had been lavish affairs. For once, a long time ago, his birth had been worth celebrating--back when he was heir of the two greatest legacies on the face of the Earth. Here, in Aternaville, the day had passed uneventfully, though he'd asked the cook to prepare several spesific, exotic dishes that were staples of those long-lost days when he was the Prince of Shadows, Grandson of the Demon's Head and Son of the Bat.
Vaguely, Damien wondered what Grayson would be doing that day, if he were holding some sort of memorial service, because surely even he would have given up by now? Regardless, the thought of his headstone next to his grandparents' in the Wayne family plot was an morbid, but fascinating one.
The cook was just finishing: the smell of lamb biryani, fresh naan, kadhi pakora, and chai permeated the entire first level of the house.
"Woodhouse," Damien said as he strode into the kitchen. "Set a single portion of everything aside and keep it in the refrigerator. No doubt I'll have a visit from the singing idiot at some point today."
'Frankly it's amazing he and Hummel haven't been by to torment me already.' Damien had spent a good part of his day out waiting for the surprise serenade of 'Happy Birthday' or something equally inane.
The fact that it hadn't happened yet was almost...disappointing.