On a typical Saturday, an area full of desolation and calmness would be seen as a rather unwanted situation, to most. For only the sounds of your own voice and movements to be heard, yet still feel as if the whole room is reticent and lugubriosity. It's a feeling no one wants to have.
All humans wants to be sociable, one way or another. Even those who choose to be estranged from the outside world will socialize with family. After all, blood is thicker than water.
Some people socialize with animals, even if the words are not spoken in the same language, but in the same vivacity and feelings, from despondency to regalement, bloated with symbolism.
Even inanimate objects can help those with no solution of the purification and elucidation. By surrounding all your hobbies together, you are able to use the connection of your issues and talents to smooth your mental health, via clairvoyant self-therapy.
This is how Draven dealt with his issues, at first.
The gray-skinned, tall yet levelheaded, slender yet built wiry man, with grape-colored slightly shaggy, slightly smooth hair that stopped at the base of his neck, monochromic with his foot reaching cape, which hid his black t-shirt, which, due to the golden belts with red chakra starches covering the ending of the shirt and beginning of leggings, looked like a one-suit. The separation was very well hidden and unknown.
Just like Draven's emotions were.
Just like the malevolent and demonic (Literally) reason that he was forced to come to Earth.
Just like the truth of the backstory was of the depreational relationship between his poor, innocent and naive mother, and the disgusting archfiend who deceived and took advantage of Draven's mother.
Just like how, one day, his father's genes would take over, and Draven, unless he somehow got out of the situation, would end up being exactly like his father, if not even more grotesquely.
And, just like he always did, and his deceased mother before him, he'd be able to solely solve his problems, and move on, besides the blood shed.
Until his opposite match came.
Originally distant when the Titans happened to meet each other, throughout their first battle, the self-effacing and grim young male had too much insecurities to fight for good. After all, a few hours before, he'd watch his mother and birthplace destroyed by the same person who gave him the ability to live.
He was set on staying out of the other's ways. He did not want to be a weakling, nor lose control. Besides being higher in abilities, depression made it seem like a negative advantage.
However, one soon to be teammate would not let him continue in these dismal feelings, and end up having him be one of the main reasons Sunfire was not sold into slavery.
One teammate encouraged him to help them build the tower, live in the tower, and began to open up to everyone, in the tower.
Beastgirl.
Green skin lighter than her darker bushy long green hair, which somehow was smoothy straightened into a ponytail ending a bit below the upper back, only her bangs a tad spiky and wild, held by a plum purple scrunchie, same shade as the purple on her purple and tank top unitard , the silver belt the same color as her pattern color-breaking gloves.
Someone of such friskiness and spirit chose, out of all the boys, including the adorably naive Sunfire, choose him, the stoic and wimpy (Personality wise) bookworm emo.
The one who, after all she did to help his self-esteem, repaid her with obloquy and heedlessness. She had changed some things about herself to welcome him to a life to trust people, just for him to treat her as a doormat.
A lightning rod.
A scapegoat.
At times, it was a verbal version of what his father and mother had, minus the physical and sexual abuse.
Slowly, just like his father, he used any help to criticize.
To hate.
However, his mother was just like Beastgirl, as well.
Neither women became as rancorous as those they started off as an good term. Although his mother had it worse, she forgave his father.
She forgave him for forcing the enceinte of Satan.
She forgave him for the many times the demon tried to possess and extirpate him, just for his own virulent intentions.
She forgave him as he destroyed Azarath and, therefore, herself.
She never once blamed her son who, besides what had happened, was an innocent child in a very calamitous rape-triangle, but instead blamed anything around her son, including herself, besides herself being raped.
Beastgirl was the same.
But the beast wasn't.
The beast of the girl would call him out for his hypocritic nature of judging others, especially Terran.
Everything the beast said was right; Draven knew how it was like to be treated bad because of your mistakes.
Your backstories.
Your current state of mind.
And he treated him bad.
Even when he was right, Draven only cared about the fact that he did wrong, and never once cared about the manipulation Slade did unto the boy who just wanted to start over.
Besides the apologies he gave to Beastgirl, he knew that the beast would always wish that she had not helped him out, or let him treat her like a doormat.
The moments they had near the rocks were okay, but he still treated her bad, mocking and having unnecessary moments of ruffian behavior.
Cyber would always cuss him out, sometimes in a even anathematize way, when she saw The girl in Beastgirl throw her head down in lack of confidence, but abundant in shame.
And as much as the Robyn would complain and harangue them all for hours and hours, when it came to Draven's mistreatment of the green morpher, she had no words, but just a certain face that made Draven sweat in acknowledged-peccability;
The face of disappointment.
Draven loved his mother because she lacked it.
But the citizens of Azarath posolutely didn't.
Even the elder, kind as he was, showed it from time to time.
These gestures, as much as the elder ironically sternly forced them to hide, were seen by the very observant but quiet boy, as a child.
To someone taught to peacefully forgive any quarrels and mistreatment, which was equal to running away from problems, these were inclementive.
Because of the kind but non-realistic way he was brought up, Draven didn't reply back to criticism, nor solve his issues, simply using kindness or stoicism to watch it flow away.
This broke as Beastgirl ripped apart the barriers surrounding his state of mind, and Robyn saw it.
Like Draven, Robyn saw all but, if it wasn't involving the whole team, said none.
And both of them realized it.
However, unlike him, she made sure that people knew by her actions.
By her fair perspicacity.
Even when the beast and the bigot, due to the girl's monstrous side coming out and snapping at the events that happened due to her bad habit of being a doormat, were about to shed the most crimson of cruor, Robyn simply had the face.
For each time the face came was the time Draven, usually provisionally, became the kind person the feminine side of the girl was trying to take out.
It took a while.
For every insult was a hug.
For every staredown was an almost happening kiss.
Forever and ever, it seemed to go on.
Softly, Draven kissed the forehead of the slumbering Gabriella. Sometimes, it seemed like the animal shifter was hibernating, which wouldn't be a crossed out assumption, judging by her nature abilities and powers.
It still happened, from time to time. The bickering seemed to go on and on.
There were days where Draven would be brought to shame.
He would tear her down, with her bringing him up.
She would be coated in green blood.
He would be the one happily and fiendishly holding the knife.
Figuratively, of course.
Realistically, they were an average couple, minus the superhero bit.
But it was okay.
Because they were there for each-other, and therefore their daughter.
Acantha had both their powers, despite being more dominant of her father's traits, in both looks and skills.
Draven prayed that his daughter would not be used by her grandfather.
Besides her name meaning the Greek word for thorn, Beastgirl, surprisingly, pointed out the goodness in thorns.
Besides the prickles and splits, the thorn kept the rose together, unharmed, and safe.
Just like their daughter kept their relationship glowing.
Of course, thorns are sharp.
Thorns are also quite portentous when it comes to symbolism.
In the end, however, they are able to be protectors and friends, just in the most...dark ways.
The dark parts of Acantha was the hormonal motherly beast of her to cause sudden sharpness, and her father's occult like sorcery to be uncontrollable and bloody.
As she became a teenager, and currently a teenager, however, it smoothly turned for the best, to keep her parents and herself in check.
Even if problems surround the supernatural family, Draven wouldn't change a single thing.
Everything was alright with Beas-Gabriella.
Acantha was sweet as ever, hanging out with Robyn and Sunfire's same age Robstar and two years younger Starfire (Where could that name come from?), and the wing-having daughter Willow, coming from Cyber and a certain yellow and black striped male.
It was bittersweet, seeing his youth go away, but Draven liked it.
With how Acantha and Robfire swoon for each other, he sees many grandchildren.
The population of the damn slowly but effectively going down.
He wouldn't change anything.
Because the future had much more than it showed, for everyone.
And it was a clairvoyant vision that he wouldn't deny.