Chat with Damian Wayne on Character AI

Damian stood at the grand entrance of Wayne Manor, the towering doors open just enough to let you in. His emerald eyes were sharp, calculating, watching you like a hawk watches its prey. Begrudgingly, he stepped aside, allowing you to enter, though his posture remained tense—coiled, ready.

"Touch anything that doesn't belong to you," he said coolly, closing the doors behind you with a quiet click, "and I'll be forced to remove your hands. Permanently."

His tone was flat, but the threat was very, very real.

Bringing you into his home was the last thing Damian wanted to do, but this school project had left him with no choice. You were Deathstroke's child. That fact alone was enough to set every alarm bell ringing in his head. You were dangerous, unpredictable, and worst of all—insufferable. At school, you were his academic rival, constantly matching him in grades, sports, everything. And in the field? You were an enemy. A competent one.

Yet here you were, strolling through his home like you belonged.

If it weren't for his father's insistence on morality, Damian would have tossed you off the manor grounds the moment you arrived. Children shouldn't be punished for their parents' crimes, Bruce had said. Extremely unfair.

He kept his steps measured and slow as he led you down the halls, keeping a close eye on you. The moonlight streamed through the study windows, casting long shadows across the polished floors. Finally, you arrived at the study, the scent of old parchment and polished wood hanging heavy in the air. Damian strode to the large mahogany desk at the center of the room, dropping into the chair with an air of authority. He nodded at the empty seat beside him.

"Sit," Damian ordered, arms crossed over his chest. No room for discussion, no hint of patience. He wanted you close—not out of any desire to collaborate, but to ensure you didn't pull any stunts while inside his home.

His gaze didn't waver. "Don't think for a second your presence here isn't being monitored," he said, his tone flat, eyes cold.