Like an invocation of old, his voice sweeps him away to another time. Another place. It starts with a faint ringing in his ear, soft and light; melodic in nature. The notes activate the bloodstone embedded in the cuff of his earring, and he's swept along a familiar path that soon plunges him into the unknown.
He goes very still, eyes open to the world unfolding before him, and at the edge of the vision, Allen's face blurs with another as snowfall covers the canvas. Circus tents rise above the horizon, and a small boy walks center stage carrying a bundle in his arms. The boy walks up to him, and Shouto catches sight of the paws under the sheet. The emptiness where his omen once slept starts to fill with sympathy, but he knows he can't interfere.
Arguably, the most unique aspect of the boy - his left hand - is relegated to the background, going unnoticed until the boy speaks that name aloud and Shouto immediately swings his eyes back to him. Allen?! He has a feeling that's not a coincidence and grows tense when he recognizes the familiar cross embedded in his left hand. The dog's collar is also suspect, but it's the mention of Mana's name that cements it.
What am I seeing?
The tension leaves him, and he draws closer to the boy as his composure slips. A need rises inside him, a need to offer his condolences but he knows it'll fall on deaf ears. He's experienced enough visions to know he's a spectator here, nothing more. So, he watches, committing everything to memory as the scene plays out. His heart stutters at the self-reprimand as the urge to counteract that statement takes over. Helplessly, Shouto watches the boy fall into sobs that wreck his composure. Even if he can't hear him, see him, he finds himself kneeling beside him, his hand passing over his like a ghost. Still, he keeps it there, a silent offer that will never be seen. ]
You're not a monster.
[ Even if his words fall on deaf ears, he feels the need to say them, and as he does so, he catches sight of those grey eyes, dark like a storm at sea. He sucks in a breath, recognition hitting him like a brick wall. ]
Allen?!
[ Breathless, he stares at the boy as the final puzzle piece falls into place, and he SEES him. ]
How--
[ Before he can get the question out, the boy lies down, and Shouto wants to pick him up and take him back to the brightly colored tents. Tries to despite knowing he can't. ]
Allen. Get up.
[ He says with a forcefulness that's lost on the boy who's fallen asleep under midwinter snowfall and is quickly becoming part of the background. His heart clenches, and he tries to shake him, move him, anything. But he doesn't belong in this place, his presence a passing thought. He can't affect anything. Knowing this, he still tries as panic rises inside him, forced to watch him fade under the snow.
He can't-- He's in Trench. He didn't die here. Tears freeze in the midwinter night, and he starts to go numb, reaching for that part of him that always made the hurt go away. ]
Allen... please.
[ Another voice answers his call, and his head snaps up, his shoulders jerk when an invisible force holds him in place. It should scare him, but all he can feel is a surge of relief.
This is how you were saved. An unknown hero in the dark. Is this what I needed to know?
The ringing begins anew, and a curtain falls on the scene preventing him from seeing what happens next, but he knows. He was saved. It's such a relief he barely even fights that wrenching feeling and snaps him back into his body with all the delicacy of a bull in a china shop. His eyes snap open, and his legs give out, sending him crashing to the ground. Nausea takes over, and he's hit with a coughing fit that almost makes him wretch. Throughout all this, one could be forgiven for missing the frozen tear tracks running down his cheeks. ]
no subject
Like an invocation of old, his voice sweeps him away to another time. Another place. It starts with a faint ringing in his ear, soft and light; melodic in nature. The notes activate the bloodstone embedded in the cuff of his earring, and he's swept along a familiar path that soon plunges him into the unknown.
He goes very still, eyes open to the world unfolding before him, and at the edge of the vision, Allen's face blurs with another as snowfall covers the canvas. Circus tents rise above the horizon, and a small boy walks center stage carrying a bundle in his arms. The boy walks up to him, and Shouto catches sight of the paws under the sheet. The emptiness where his omen once slept starts to fill with sympathy, but he knows he can't interfere.
Arguably, the most unique aspect of the boy - his left hand - is relegated to the background, going unnoticed until the boy speaks that name aloud and Shouto immediately swings his eyes back to him. Allen?! He has a feeling that's not a coincidence and grows tense when he recognizes the familiar cross embedded in his left hand. The dog's collar is also suspect, but it's the mention of Mana's name that cements it.
What am I seeing?
The tension leaves him, and he draws closer to the boy as his composure slips. A need rises inside him, a need to offer his condolences but he knows it'll fall on deaf ears. He's experienced enough visions to know he's a spectator here, nothing more. So, he watches, committing everything to memory as the scene plays out. His heart stutters at the self-reprimand as the urge to counteract that statement takes over. Helplessly, Shouto watches the boy fall into sobs that wreck his composure. Even if he can't hear him, see him, he finds himself kneeling beside him, his hand passing over his like a ghost. Still, he keeps it there, a silent offer that will never be seen. ]
You're not a monster.
[ Even if his words fall on deaf ears, he feels the need to say them, and as he does so, he catches sight of those grey eyes, dark like a storm at sea. He sucks in a breath, recognition hitting him like a brick wall. ]
Allen?!
[ Breathless, he stares at the boy as the final puzzle piece falls into place, and he SEES him. ]
How--
[ Before he can get the question out, the boy lies down, and Shouto wants to pick him up and take him back to the brightly colored tents. Tries to despite knowing he can't. ]
Allen. Get up.
[ He says with a forcefulness that's lost on the boy who's fallen asleep under midwinter snowfall and is quickly becoming part of the background. His heart clenches, and he tries to shake him, move him, anything. But he doesn't belong in this place, his presence a passing thought. He can't affect anything. Knowing this, he still tries as panic rises inside him, forced to watch him fade under the snow.
He can't-- He's in Trench. He didn't die here. Tears freeze in the midwinter night, and he starts to go numb, reaching for that part of him that always made the hurt go away. ]
Allen... please.
[ Another voice answers his call, and his head snaps up, his shoulders jerk when an invisible force holds him in place. It should scare him, but all he can feel is a surge of relief.
This is how you were saved. An unknown hero in the dark. Is this what I needed to know?
The ringing begins anew, and a curtain falls on the scene preventing him from seeing what happens next, but he knows. He was saved. It's such a relief he barely even fights that wrenching feeling and snaps him back into his body with all the delicacy of a bull in a china shop. His eyes snap open, and his legs give out, sending him crashing to the ground. Nausea takes over, and he's hit with a coughing fit that almost makes him wretch. Throughout all this, one could be forgiven for missing the frozen tear tracks running down his cheeks. ]