15989/A Return Home

A Return Home
Date of Scene:	01 October 2023
Location:	Batcave
Synopsis:	Phoebe and Damian discuss events in the Bat Cave
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Damian Wayne

---

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    It's been a crazy last couple days for Phoebe.

    None of it strictly Bat work. She still had the bottom of her Balm armor on, differing from her Oriole gear by its sleeker profile and lack of orange and blue pips. She had come in on her typical motorcycle, undone the helmet, set her armor up for repairs a'la Tim's designs, and was decompressing by sitting on the floor, her back to the rock, her hair set in pink cornrows. She was wearing a compression top, and the nost notable thing -- other than the pink hair, which has been a feature for some months now -- is that she's traced some lines over the burnt-in array on her left arm. It looks like tattoo prep.

    She's also wearing a simple chain necklace along with the wide collar that covers the trio of scars at her throat.

Damian Wayne has posed:
Damian sits cross-legged on one of the more geometric outcroppings of stone, staring at a flat space upon which he has arrayed a number of gadgets. At the top, framing it, is the utility belt he wears in the latest iteration of his uniform. His chin rests on his fist, occasionally moving to place a gadget ahead of another. Or moving another to the right or left.

If he'd been there when Phoebe arrived, he hadn't made it clear. He hadn't even checked if she'd noted his presence. He simply remained in silence, lost in whatever task he had set himself.

"Self-mortification for the good souls of Gotham is Father's domain," he calls out, voice echoing crisply through the cave, "You should try taking it out of the wicked instead of yourself."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe wasn't one to bother Damian, she knew to leave him to what was occupying his mind, unless it was incredibly urgent, or a really, really awful joke. It was nice to just sit in quiet and just be. It's why she sometimes hung out in Tim's office to work. "Are you talking about the burned skin on my shoulder or the tattoo I'm using to cover it with? Because neither are for the people of Gotham." Phoebe comments as she looks up to Damian, and she gives a tired smile, and raises her arms up over her head to lean them back. There's a bit of a satisfying pop to one shoulder, before she tilts her head back to look up to Damian.

    "Besides, Bruce doesn't have the corner on the market for self-mortification. We all carry stories on our skins."

Damian Wayne has posed:
"I'm sure it's a florid tale of adventure and grim heartache," Damian answers, in the tone one might read the specials at an oft-visited restaurant, "I won't ask about it. I prefer to review the reports. They don't meander."

>Tt<

He shifts another gadget along in the order, holding it up to peer through an aperture on it. A camera of some sort, though extremely miniaturized. He mutters something to himself under his breath.

"Pennyworth made mousakka. It's too heavy, but you look like you should sleep."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Mmm mousakka. Only if he used mushrooms instead of the beef." Phoebe replies quietly. "I'll be all right for a while yet. Still have all the adreniline running through my veins. 'Sides--" she expands something on the tablet and looks it over, her eyebrows furrowing as she makes some adjustments. "The burns are from New York. I've been considering covering it with a tattoo for some time now, and I thought of a good design. I usually try to do my own -- but it'll be difficult to get this one done by myself. Weird angles."

Damian Wayne has posed:
"I don't know the ingredients. Some sort of protein. You will have to accost Pennyworth for the recipe. I am merely the messenger."

As Phoebe speaks, the young Wayne makes a performative sigh and wraps up the small bundle of things he was sorting through. His eyes even roll as he does so. Putting it aside, he swings his legs over the edge of the stone and turns to look down and offer her his full attention from where he sits.

"Tattoos are a strategic error. You're providing your enemy with another means to identify you. You should wear your scar as a badge of pride for evil vanquished or foe conquered, rather than covering it up with a crude drawing of ... of ... "

He mentally grasps at whatever pop culture he can find, before coming up with:

" ... a bob-tailed sheep-dog."

Lame.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I'll ask what he used. Sometimes me hames me a different dinner." Phoebe remarks with a small smile. The butler has the respect of everyone in the family for a reason.

    She looks over to Damian and comments "Perfect, now once more, with *feeling* this time. As if I always address you as baby brother." she jokes lightly, and she turns her arm. THe burn scar is... definitely not a regular scar. There is regular burns carrnig above it, the skin whorled and webbed.

    "And I'm not doing a bob-tailed sheep-dog. I already /have/ tattoos. My wrist--" she holds up her left wrist, with that softly glowing white ring of arcane writing and circles. "And a tattoo on my back to focus flight when I'm *not* on Bat-Time." she comments with a wry smile, as she looks up to Damian.

    "It was a scar from a war I fought, both outside and within. It's a mark I carried to remind myself how easily I gave up everything for someone I thought loved me." she states, and then stretched out her legs, still in the dull gray armor.

    "So I'm covering it with a symbol for someone I do love, and something of my birth country."

    And Phoebe turns the tablet over to show a blue lotus, with a glowy yellow center, in full bloom with the Arabic text along it: 'ana 'azhar faqat min 'ajlik -- I bloom only for you.

Damian Wayne has posed:
>Tt< "Mysticism," Damian calls down with an unconcealed roll of his eyes, "Why do you not simply hide your batarangs inside your pointy hat emblazoned with moons and stars?"

He lets his feet kick a little over the ledge, the corners of his mouth curving up into a wicked little smile. It's about as 'playfully ribbing' as the boy can get. And the little sneer-smile about as close as he gets to warm grins.

"Well, I suppose if you insist on it and don't wish to heed sound advice then it could be considered not the most horrendous of choices. Sister."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe pokes her tongue out. "Glad you approve of the design. I can't wear the pointy hat. It doesn't fit into my motorcycle helmet. You're just jealous because I'm prettier." she comments breezily, and then turns the tablet back around to focus on a different.

    "... I did have to kill someone with an infernal contract yesterday. He was as good as dead once the entity got to him regardless, I don't think even Zatanna could have cut his connection, but killing him severed the connection to ten other kids. /Kids/. Fourteen-year-olds taking rave drugs and dancing their way to Hell. And then today my face got stolen."

Damian Wayne has posed:
"Oh, please," Damian answers with another roll of his eyes, "I have a mirror and functioning eyes, Beacon. I am exquisite."

It's actually difficult to tell if the Wayne scion is joking with that one. Yeesh.

The revelation, however, makes him grow a little more dour. His brow knits and he leans forward a little further on his ledge.

"Not that he is unlikely to know about it already, but perhaps don't share that one with Father."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Your father and I have an understanding. I do what has to be done when it comes to demons. That's... that's just what I have to do. But I don't use resources or armor that I use for Bat Business. That's why Balm and Oriole are two very different people." she gives a wan smile.

    "To be honest he'd probably be more upset about my face being stolen. Austin was hit with a curse that changed his chair color. Tim got into a riddling contest. Your mother was there. It was a weird afternoon."

    The Wayne Spare Heir leans her head back and closes her eyes.

    "I didn't have any other option. The entity involved had already unleashed a Nightmare crossed with a Caddilac in New York City. Horscedes Benz is currently possibly going to ally itself to me since I beat out its former owner. Which is going to be weird because although I think it would probably be fine with Goliath, I don't think it's healthy for any animal in the barn to be near it." she considers, and then she actually seems to wilt.

    "I can justify however I want to. He won't accept it. That's not his Way. And that's why I can't talk to him about it."

Damian Wayne has posed:
"I know," Damian says snippishly, with the air of a child who doesn't wish to be discounted because of age, "I simply mean it must be a schizophrenic existence - and one he'd rather not hear about in any great detail."

When Phoebe explains, he closes his eyes and nods sagely.

"Well, at least you understand that much. You needn't justify yourself to me. I'm sure any creature that profits from suffering that way is better off dead, as are any who would invariably end up in its claws. I would salute you, were it appropriate."

He waves a hand through the air.

"Goliath is away. He serves best as a guardian and there are other things that need guarding. You needn't worry about him."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... I more worry about Peaches eating Batcow." Phoebe states, but she gets the picture. She hops to her feet, wiping at her eyes.

    "If I could choose one world to live in, it wouldn't be the one where I go to galas and dinners and functions and everyone asks where 'the boys' are." she comments dryly, "I'd rather deal with demons than Gotham's elite."

Damian Wayne has posed:
>Tt<

"Predators of a different stripe. At least you can gut a demon and most people will look at you and say 'well, someone had to do it, thank you.' Meanwhile, the head of Gotham Mutual's Board of Directors can pinch my cheek and call me 'lad' and remain entirely unmolested. Which is more than one can probably say for his secretar -- "

There's a brief alarm, and Damian turns his attention towards the BatComputer.

"I'll attend to it. You stay here and think about tattoos."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Only because I haven't slept in two days. Be safe out there little brother." Phoebe gives a wave, "I can be out to you in twenty seconds if you need me. I'll keep a com in my ear."