[center][h2][color=b284be]Damon Howard[/color][/h2][/center][hr][hr]The hike up to the Shrine was mostly enjoyable. Sure, there was Isaias sulking and quietly brooding off to the side, but Damon found him easy enough to ignore. He chatted with the others about nothing in particular as they ascended.

But it looked like some else couldn’t stand how the Bilica boy stared daggers at them all. Robert addressed Isaias’ silent hostility, and the latter was quick to storm off. 

[color=b284be]“Isaias-!”[/color] Damon called out on instinct, but the other either didn’t hear or didn’t want to listen.

Damon frowned after the younger boy, and scuffed a shoe against the dirt path. That had been a bit mean, but Robert also did have a point. If Isaias didn’t want to be there, he didn’t need to be. Still, the kid had looked offended – maybe even hurt – when he’d been chased off like that.

Damon sighed and put it off his mind. He followed Robert’s cue, and went with the others to check out the stunning view. 
Just looking down at the golden hued lake was enough to improve his mood; it even felt like the physical fatigue was being drained from him.

[color=b284be]“This is amazing…”[/color] Damon said quietly, and clearly, everyone agreed.

There was a slight nagging at the back of his mind; a thought in the form of, [color=b284be][i]He should have seen it too.[/i][/color] But there were so many other things to do than think about Isaias – the next time he did was on the way down, when it struck him that it really was a good thing after all the boy had left. Because, damn, if he’d hated going up, he would have been a hundred times worse on the way down. 

Finally, they’d arrived at the edge of the town. That was when the Fontaines chose to speak to him.

Damon looked up wide-eyed; for once, his natural hazel irises revealed, because he didn’t like to wear contact lenses during physical activities. A slow, appreciative smile spread across his features at the unexpected compliment. [color=b284be]“Thank you, sir.”[/color]

Then, Mrs. Fontaine challenged him. It was kind and casual, but a challenge nonetheless.

Suddenly, his pulse felt heavy, quick; noticeable. [color=b284be][i]Did he say that to butter me up?[/i][/color] Doubt started creeping in. [color=b284be][i]Have they been watching all this time just to see if I’m ‘faithful’ enough?[/i][/color]

Everyone stood there, surrounding him, waiting on his answer.

Tension mounted.

As Damon met the Fontaines’ gazes, the awareness of being put on the spot flipped a switch in him. He realized that he could appeal to them, while still holding true to his views. His heartbeat calmed, and he straightened up. His expression settled, and so did his nerves.

[color=b284be]“I don’t know about demons,”[/color] Damon said frankly. Literal, actual demons – as in, supernatural, hellish creatures plaguing the world? It…seemed unlikely. [color=b284be]“But I know there’s darkness.”[/color]
 
Darkness like his mother dying.

Darkness like the tragedy of the kid after whom Weeping Sam had been named. 

Darkness like all the bad things that happened without rhyme or reason. 

Darkness like…

Yeah, there was darkness. [color=b284be]“And I think…I think what we do – our actions, and our beliefs, I think it can help. Help make it better.”[/color] He put a hand to his chest. [color=b284be]“In here.”[/color] He gestured to their surroundings, as if to encompass all that there was with one simple motion. [color=b284be]“Out there.”[/color]

He wanted to believe that. Strived to believe it. That it all could be better. That there was hope.

That what they did mattered.

And the Fontaine couple acknowledged his answer with a nod. They moved on.

The rest of the way back, Damon was lightly ribbed for his impromptu heartfelt speech, and though embarrassment coloured his cheeks and ears, he still felt a sense of accomplishment.

He thought that had gone well.
[center][h3]***[/h3][/center]
Before his mother had died, they’d all attended these events as a family. Sometimes the trio of father, mother, son stuck together, and other times, the eldest two Howards went alongside as well.

Ever since then, Damon didn’t want to be anywhere near wherever his father or even grandparents were, or whatever it was they were doing. He wanted nothing to do with it.

This was how he was found somewhat aimlessly weaving through the crowds, looking for some company.

By happenstance, he saw the three Bilica brothers tormenting their little sister. As if she had a sensor for this exact scenario, Audrey appeared to save Odaya. And hadn't he, just some hours ago, said to the Fontaines something about helping?

Sighing, he squared his shoulders and made his way to the company.

Quickening his pace, he pretended as if all he could see at that moment was Odaya. He approached her from the front, radiating concern. Damon then dropped to a knee, and dramatically put a hand to his chest. [color=b284be]“My Lady!”[/color] he exclaimed with a sense of astonishment, which though played up, came across quite seriously. [color=b284be]“You are positively drenched,”[/color] he tutted. He stripped off his jacket, and passed it over to the little girl.
 
[color=b284be]“What terrible misfortune has befallen you,”[/color] he shook his head, and frowning, stood up. [color=b284be]“Aha! You must have been accosted by these roadside bandits!”[/color] he quite suddenly pointed to the three brothers. He narrowed his eyes at them in warning. His little scene would draw attention – attention they likely wouldn’t want. 

Then, his gaze landed on Isaias. [color=b284be]“But you, young man…Were we not recently separated? If you wish to rejoin our company, you need only follow.”[/color] He raised a pointed eyebrow, hoping Isaias would get it. [color=b284be]“There’s a procession to attend to, and our numbers are lacking one. If I am not much mistaken, that one is you,”[/color] he added, just to drive the point home.

Then, he finally turned to Audrey (and Rowan). [color=b284be]“Ah, please excuse my manners, kind strangers. My most heartfelt thanks for providing aid to her Ladyship,”[/color] he executed a simple bow; the kind he thought a noble’s retainer would perform.

As he rose from the bow, however, his expression was once again his own. He had a slightly awkward ‘what can you do’ smile in place. Nonverbally, he pleaded with the teenaged girls that – even if they didn’t go along with his little performance – they’d at least not dismiss it out of hand. Because in his own way, he was trying to smoothly resolve the situation.[hr][hr]
[@Fading Memory], [@Gisk], and probably [@Jumbus]