Re: In-person: Misha B/Damian W
[Damian knew of the half-holy, half-human beings by the name 'nephilim,' but only as a mention, only as a memory of a book or a scrap of fact learned years before. He could not have recalled it without a few moments' meditation or focus. And he did not recall it now. He was being selfish, he knew, mired in the tar of his own thoughts and his own hurts, and it was much easier to avoid that, if he did not let himself feel anything. After all, the words of others were meant to have no impact on him or on his sense of self. They were to wash off of him as water to a duck's back. Psychological and emotional attacks were, on one hand, advocated as tools in his repertoire, while, on the other, both soundly renounced as anything that might affect any of the al Gols, as superior as they were. Which meant Damian ought have lifted his chin and continued onward, knowing those around him were wrong. And, in a sense, he did. This was his reaction. But, the barbs remained stuck in his skin or something else ridiculous, and he could feel them, even though he knew he ought not.—So, yes, he was rather too selfish in the moment for his mind to capture the meaning of nephilim fully. But, he knew this was the concept and so he said nothing of the rest. Concern marred his brow.] By being in too close of contact with humanity, you lose your Grace? By falling down this slope of engagement? I thought it was through deeds contrary to your... duty? You have told me, I think, of how your mother lost hers. Will you do so again? It is because she sought to run off with your father? I did not know you could lose yours through—[He blinked, peering between them.]—this. [It was difficult, even for someone as drenched and brought up in war as Damian, then, to switch the topic, or allow it to segue as it did. He was fussed over Misha's Grace now.] Who are 'folks'? Humanity or those such as yourself and Janus? Or both? I do not think that is a war. I think that is human nature.
[The man's own grip tightened in response to the squeeze from Misha.] Why do you not miss him now? You know what he did was not right? Or is it simply distance? Or both? [He looked up at the shake of head.] Why does it not help? I thought perhaps it was easier, as they understood your conflicts in a way I cannot. I read it is common to feel torn about such. Hating someone, but loving them. Not wanting their attention, while seeking it. Et cetera. Or is it as you said? Because it is only about them? Is that an angel thing, or simply how they speak? You feared him, when you were in the Quiet Home and drugged. You saw him and feared him. This is why I am glad he is dead. [He said this unashamedly, feeling fully justified. If he wilted somewhat after that, under scrutiny, he pretended not to notice. Instead, Damian focused on the drip of hand down his chest. He leaned into the pressure with his weight.] Such as what? [A question occurred to him.] Did you enjoy fucking me?