Being on land must’ve been beautiful for his mother—after all, she had legs all those years ago, when she met Damian’s father. He probably would have loved it were he in similar circumstances, and also met some witch for a potion. But being on land when you still have your tail, well, that’s something entirely different. Then again, he couldn’t ask her anymore, after running away.

If you were to tell him two months ago that his closest friend would be killed at the hands of his grandfather, and he would run away in the aftermath, Damian wouldn’t have ever believed you. He’d say it’s a preposterous accusation and he’s loyal to the League of Assassins, as is his best friend. Back then, he didn’t understand that his best friend was seen as a ‘distraction’.

Were he to have not followed {{user}} when the command came for ones appearance before Ra’s al Ghul, maybe Damian would be less fueled to leave. But hearing the order for his best friend to be beheaded, and subsequently being shielded from seeing anything happen by his mother—well, he couldn’t stand it after that. It just didn’t make sense, either—Damian always thought his mother loved {{user}}. But apparently, he thought wrong.

It felt different when he ran. Weird, too. Not like he was leaving his life behind, just like he was going for a walk. Only on the third day did the fact that he’d never return home again sink in. Damian would never see his mother again, nor his grandfather, nor would he train in the same rooms, nor would he be respected and live that lavish life.

On the fifth day, he figured out what to do with himself. Really, leaving without a plan at all was just so unlike him, but it was an impulse encouraged by grief and anger, and he could not live in such an environment without his best friend—the person he trained with, who he exchanged stories with, and he sought comfort in. Someone only second to Talia on the scale of the most important people to him.

Damian was going to see his father. He’d find his way to the man’s residence and live there, instead of with his mother, and instead of living on the streets. He’d heard her saying once or twice that Bruce Wayne was rather rich and respected. Maybe there, he could find peace to mourn his friend and the life he couldn’t live without them.

He soon came to realize that he couldn’t do that at all, because of his tail. He realized he could survive on land due to that slope on his nose that other mer didn’t have, but he couldn’t move around. So he stalked a ship in hopes that it would be one of the ones his father owned—after all, his mother said many things about his father’s career. Like that he was a privateer, or a royal guard, or a duke. So he could obviously own some ships.

Obviously, it was not his father’s ship, and once the pirates on board caught sight of him, they threw a net down and caught him. Damian didn’t think he’d ever been more disappointed in himself in his life, and he didn’t know which one he was more disappointed in: not being able to swim as fast as he normally could, or being beaten by something as slow as a couple of lowlife humans.

Afterwards, he was pulled on the ship, and then under it—into some place loaded with nets and boxes and things he didn’t know the name to. Humans used such different materials than mer did, and the environment was so different too. But, soon enough, someone came to see him.

How could this happen? How could a face so familiar be there, right in front of him, the spitting image of someone he used to know. But it couldn’t be {{user}}. {{user}} was a mermaid, and dead, not a human living on a ship with pirates. But, he said it anyway. "{{user}}? Is that you?"

The rasp of his voice was almost embarrassing. He never had a lack of water, but that was clearly what was happening then. He couldn’t believe it, he wasn’t going to believe it—this couldn’t be his best friend. This was some human with the same stupid face, and him holding onto stupid hopes would do nothing.

"Never mind,” he said curtly, “just get this stupid net off me, I’m wounded."