deercountry | All that I am

Entry tags:

All that I am

Who: Allen Walker and Shouto Todoroki ~~with guest appearances by The Fourteenth...~~
What: September Paleblood effects, and getting trapped in a version of Allen's horrific world and life for a time courtesy of a cursed book/the Absolute Immersion prompt 🙂 Many CW for mentions and flashbacks of Allen's very abusive childhood. also red light districts. (to date: pet death/abuse, child abuse, suicidal impulses of a child)
When: Later September
Where: Their house, and then Victorian England sorta

[ When Shouto had become blind, it had been Allen who fret and fussed more than he needed to. Hovering by his side and always ready to take his arm and steer him gently this way or that, explaining whatever the goings-on were with an animated chatter born first from concern and then increasingly just out of enjoying conversing so later on. Describing the world and especially the people around them like someone reading a particularly good story aloud might and getting caught up in it with an actual delight.

It wasn't so bad for him after all, he'd say, since he lost first his sense of taste (that was insulting but something he dealt with just by pouting at dinnertime) and then touch. Annoyances more than anything, nothing that bad. Touch bothered him more than he thought it would, leaving him staring down at his hands with an unsettled expression from time to time when he thought no one was looking, but he tried to avoid letting that on.

When Allen lost his sense of sight, he became almost unsettlingly... quiet, actually. Not complaining even a little. But off, perpetually distracted and a little jumpy at the slightest noise or sense of movement. With it ironically around the same time Shouto finally regained his own vision. Something he expressed relief for -- it'd be rather silly and unfortunate for them to both lose their sense of sight at the same time, wouldn't it? -- but that was a little hollow too.

Whether Shouto thought to read to him or it happened by accident when Allen was half-dozing near him one day when he asked him out of bored senseless curiosity what he was reading, it was one of the few things that made him perk up. Even if he usually dozed off on him, it was comfortably and amicably so and eased a lot of his restlessness. Something he started to look forward to and ask him a little more eagerly each time what he was reading that day.

Today, he wrinkled his nose at the smell of this new book when he came back with it. Musty and old, and something that just... unsettled him on some very deep, instinctive level. Like if black magic had a smell. Easy enough to pass off at the explanation it was handed to him from someone in Gaze offering free books to passerby, everything there was a little weird and derelict, and the explanation it was a story (apparently) about an exorcist who saved souls was enough to both baffle and intrigue him. Weirdly... spot on, wasn't that? But curiosity alone was a good enough reason for him to shelve any misgivings and settle in, leaning his chin on his shoulder and peering over like he was actually trying to peek at the pages he couldn't see. Also, Shouto's monotone could put anyone at ease (and to sleep). Allen's disarmed and lulled off pretty quickly, relaxing as the tale begins and meanders vaguely around a nameless boy who loved too much. Who was thrown at odds against the home he had always known first for wanting to save those they wanted him to destroy, and then for finding out he was fated to become their enemy and the very thing that would destroy them and the world.

Allen stops dozing off and becomes very awake. Very quiet, and very still.

Shouto can get to the part where the boy says goodbye and leaves in order to keep his home safe, and that's when Allen will fumble for his hand. Grasping his wrist tightly with alarmed urgency. ]

Shouto. [ It's laced with a strange sort of fear, a rising panic. Stop reading.

It's also too late.

Reality... warps. Uncomfortably so, like vertigo but pulling your soul inside-out instead of your stomach. It feels like falling. Falling forward into freefall, which... is accurate. At first it feels like falling into a vacuum, and then the wind is quickly rushing past their ears. They burst through what feels like a thin glass pane of light that shatters harmlessly around them and melt away, geometric patterns in the sky, and the air is crisp and cold; the first kiss of winter, and for the first time smelling clean and entirely without the odor of blood, decay, and industry that clings to Trench. Into the middle of a city park, rows of brick Victorian buildings lining the sides of it with a clocktower and castle in the distance.

They're also about fifty feet up in the air, upside-down and in rapid freefall. ]

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[ He saw them... as his parents? The realization hits like a brick as much as it also suddenly makes everything that happened make painful sense. So much so Allen's expression stills at that, mouth a silent "oh" as his eyes widen slightly. Not entirely sure how to take that, and he blushes lightly for it. But the important part is easy to grasp— you're afraid of becoming 'him' and repeating the past.

He would have said it was okay anyway when Shouto asks, but after that he breathes it hurriedly against his mouth before pressing close and kissing him like they might be running out of time. Fingers tangling up gently but desperately in his hair, like there's something he's trying so badly to say with his body. ]

It's the same as I told you before-- [ He breaks the kiss enough to speak but stays close, eyes glittering faintly as he holds his gaze and continues to brush his hair back. Finds it hard to concentrate and tries to regain it in his mismatched eyes.

You're so warm. Solid-- and alive. Something about that seizes tight at something buried deep in his chest and squeezes with such a strange sort of happiness that it almost makes him want to cry. He brushes his fingers lightly over his lips instead; touches his cheek with quiet awe. Delicate and a little clumsy as the same time. ]

You always make me feel at ease... Even when it's also so much I find it hard to breathe.

[ He's restless. Can't sit still, even if it only shows in such very tiny motions. Needing to touch him; trace the ridge of his ear and the bloodstone jewelry there. I don't want to make you lose control of your quirk again warring with the quiet joy and rightness of being able to be close like this, and so he kisses his cheek softly instead, gentle as a butterfly, and begins leaving a trail of them along his jaw. His legs tighten slightly. ]

So anything you do... I trust you.

[ Not afraid, but cognizant of it. There's a likeness in him that reflects Endeavor in more than just his left side. That tenacious need to push and strive forward, but there's also his mother there, nestled so deeply no one will ever erase her influence. It's more than just his quiet demeanor. It's perspective. The way he chooses to see the world, through her eyes, recognizing the good in the bad. It's the same way Allen see's the world. Focusing not on the monsters but on the being within. A beautiful perspective and one Shouto wants to see more of. That beauty his mother saw. That inner kindness Allen so readily displays that he sometimes lacks after separating himself from his emotions for so long. Even that hearty desperation that has Allen clinging to him is something he admires. That incessant yearning for someone is another thing he lost growing up, yet he feels that earnest need humming in his chest every time they kiss.

Shouto resurfaces from the kiss, blinking in wonderment at the solid angel gazing down at him. He brushes his hair back with such delicate fingers the urge to kiss him almost outweighs his desire to hear what he has to say and almost misses the implication in those words. ]

If you were at ease, you wouldn't find it hard to breathe.

[ He turns his head to brush his lips against his fingers and lets his hand slip behind his neck, letting his thumb run across the mark he left behind. ]

But then again...

[ He stares at the mark, fixated on the coloration. ]

You make me lose control of my quirk, and I still find you... beautiful.

[ Beautiful? He blinks at that, somewhat inexplicably dumbfounded for a moment even as he colors lightly. That's -- not something he's used to hearing being used to describe himself. He stares as Shouto turns his head to brush an absent kiss against his fingers that leaves them tingling, and his expression just becomes so gentle and transparent when he feels his thumb rub the lightly sore spot on his throat. So caught his breath stills.

--it's strange, you know? His whole life he's throttled what he feels back so hard to keep it off his face and put something else there instead. Neutrality when his rage and disgust would have gotten him beaten. A smile when he actually wanted to cry. A pleasant demeanor and white lies to make everyone believe he was okay when he was anything but. And he can't do that with Shouto, not truly. Not about anything that matters. The idea actually becomes abhorrent. That's the thing that leaves him feeling more naked than anything. And even close to a year later he still can't understand why, except that it has to be because of that one simple thing:

I'm more comfortable being myself around you than I am with myself.

So he swallows, blinking rapidly for a moment like he's fighting back tears, before he ducks his head and... ]

Edited 2022-10-22 05:59 (UTC)

[ ...laughs quietly.

Helplessly in absolute and utter disbelief, sheer amazement, and shakes his head slightly. Raises it up again as he presses his forehead to Shouto's, smiling so wide and bright even as it's a little mysterious; a little coy. Like fondly sharing some well known secret between just them. ]

I guess it's a mystery then.

Edited 2022-10-22 06:10 (UTC)

[ The way he looked so caught before ducking away, Shouto almost thought he said something wrong. So to hear the tinkling sound of his laugh in place of what he feared sends his heart into disarray, but not in a bad way.

It almost looked like you had tears.

It hits him from left-field just how in tune he is to him. Not in the sense that he can read him, but more... linked to him. How his demeanor affects his own. How his smiles make his heart grow warm, and his laughter makes it stutter.

He blinks several times, his pulse picking up at the knowledge that he was... happy? That's what it means... laughing. It's why he found it so fascinating especially when there was no one around to pin it on.

With his heart in his throat, Shouto meets his eyes, looking hesitant and shy for the first time. A clear indication of how easily Allen throws him for a loop without even trying. Their foreheads meet, and Shouto stares at those bright eyes full of delight and feels his breath catch. ]

You're the mystery.

[ He touches the corner of his mouth to trace his smile. ]

One I don't know if I want to solve.

[ Why do you look uncertain all of a sudden? Hesitant, the way his eyes dart to Allen's, and his own expression flickers thoughtfully. Him, the mystery? You have so many subtleties of expression that seem to only hint at so much that goes on but is unsaid that plainspoken or no, you have to be as much of one as him.

His face softens when he touches the corner of his mouth, smile subsiding but it's for reflecting on the quiet intimacy of it and his admission. He lets his arms cross over his shoulders, noticing from how comfortable and solid he is, how warm, for the first time really how much broader than his own they are.

One you... don't know if you want to solve? ]

What do you mean? [ He asks it more softly, relaxed into a strange, gentle sort of lull from realizing he can feel him breathe from the light press of his diaphragm, and catches his finger in an absent kiss. A soft nip of one. ]

Edited 2022-10-22 07:19 (UTC)

[ Focused on tracing his bottom lip with his thumb, he answers half-distracted. Trailing off when Allen nips at his thumb. Is that a kiss too? ]

I want to hear you laugh... not solve you.

[ That... is convoluted even for Allen to pull apart. But he gets it, he thinks, after a moment. You said that before, too, about when he laughs... feeling the same way about it like he does when you smile. Not about trying to pick each other apart to understand, but just appreciating what sparks joy. Appreciating each other.

He smiles softly at that sort of answer then. With a gentle sort of whimsy. ]

Can we lie down?

[ He nuzzles at his hand faintly, letting his eyes close as he does so in a quiet, content sort of joy. Pressing one soft kiss to wherever he can reach— and catching his thumb again if he can, though more softly this time in an experimental nibble. ]

I'm sleepy.

Edited 2022-10-22 08:57 (UTC)

[ Wordlessly, he lets his hands slide down his back and up his hip and thigh where he sets his palms and gently taps at the muscle there to get his attention. You have to let go first. He seems to indicate before lifting him up in a tangle of sheets to set him back on the bed.

Shouto lies down on his side to look at him from the short distance that separates them. His hair mixes on the pillowcase, red cascading onto white while steady eyes stray to the scar marring his shoulder. He has the urge to trace the length of it again but refrains in deference to his words. ]

Let's go to sleep.

[ He... also didn't really want to let go despite saying what he did okay. But Allen sucks in a quiet breath at the trail his hands make, eyes widened and fluttering in surprise as he does his level best not to squirm. His spine follows along with his hand though, curving instinctively as Allen just stares down in a sort of wonderment, wordless. Oh.

(He. Became very aware he's not wearing anything again. It's also why he says nothing and just stares instead for a moment, amazed.)

...He also entirely forgot his own request and would like to take it back when Shouto taps his thigh and he abruptly remembers, reluctantly obliging in a slight scramble.

He's trying to make sense of the twisted up covers (how did they??? even???) when he glances over and catches Shouto looking at him. Oh. ...hesitating for a moment, he quiets then and curls up on his side to face him, leaving the covers in whatever state they're just going to be in. The soft sort of wonderment is still there, watching his eyes stray and wondering what he's looking at--or thinking of. But... he bites the inside of his lip too. You're far away. Not really, but it feels like it. But... it also has to be incredibly late by now. He was exhausted hours ago; Shouto probably is as well. They should just say goodnight and sleep. ] ...

[ He scoots a little closer and reaches out to touch the side of his face. Very gently, expression soft. ]

Come here?

[ The light from the crackling fire bathes the length of him in a familiar red glow. Not stark and demanding but tamed, docile. It colors his hair in a familiar manner that leaves him thinking of his mother under the glow of an oppressive fire. His eyes linger on a stray lock, white like freshly fallen snow. The urge to touch him impresses itself on him, sending his thoughts down a familiar path. This time, however, he catches himself before they stray too far.

I keep doing that.

The only thing that makes me uneasy is when it feels like you're trying to punish both of us for something I don't even understand.

Tying you to a place you don't know.

He's tired but not in the way Allen thinks. Endeavor put him through a brutal training regime since he was five. He could last much longer than this. It's his heart that' his weakest point. Retreating into a dome of ice that withstood even Endeavor's unrelenting fire.

The gentle touch on his cheek pulls his thoughts back to the moment. A moment of confusion filters through his eyes, followed by quiet understanding, all in the span of a moment. Lifting his head from the pillow, Shouto sits up and scoots closer to him, side by side. Close enough to smell the sweet scent that accompanies him despite the bath. It's familiar.

Like home.

This time his head settles on the edge of his pillow. His hair still mixes. A lock of red falls across a teal eye obscuring his line of sight, yet he stares steadily at him, examining the puzzle pieces he's gathered today with the picture of Allen he carries in his mind. Many don't fit. Instead of wedging them in by force, Shouto leaves the details alone. Setting them aside to ponder on another day. For today... Right now... he rather look at him as he is with all the missing pieces.

You're still beautiful to me. ]

Tomorrow. [ After they've both rested. ] Can you show me your world?

[ This time, he's the one who reaches for Allen, running his fingers through the length of soft hair. ]

I'd like to see you.

Edited 2022-10-25 03:09 (UTC)

[ Confusion fades to quiet understanding and Allen smiles lightly at that; warmly, finding it comforting as he lets his palm contour to his cheek. You're thinking deeply about something I think, even if I don't know exactly what. He'd normally get nervous being stared at so, being someone's sole focus, but he doesn't mind it anymore. Even if the request catches him a little off-guard and he pauses. Touched, yet-- ]

Mn. [ It's a soft acknowledgment, eyes quiet and soulful, but his expression flickers lightly with reluctance too. Or apology. ] I can, but...

...I never got to see much of the town even when I was here before to be honest. [ He was always working, always kept within the circus grounds. Belatedly, he remembers he'd promised to tell him about that earlier. I forgot; we got distracted... ] But...

[ He closes his eyes, feeling Shouto's fingers carding softly through his hair, and curls closer then. Nosing at his throat lightly as he rests his head against his collar and fits himself there. ]

I'll show you one of Mana's favorite spots... the place where we first performed. [ He says it very softly, his voice faraway and fond. Nestles closer. ] He liked to watch the sunset there.

[ The hand in his hair travels down his back and sets itself over his hip, fingers splayed out against his spine to draw him forward - twisted sheets and all - until they're pressed up against each other like before. ]

I'd like that.

[ Leaning forward, Shouto presses his lips against the star on his forehead, reminded of the night sky. ]

Good-night, Allen.

Edited 2022-10-25 04:40 (UTC)

[ Way to make him nearly swallow his tongue.

The muffled little sound that escapes him at being pulled close isn't quite a squeak; it isn't that surprised because honestly he shouldn't be surprised. But he'll always be—always be startled and amazed at things like that—because that's how he is, and he sweeps an arm up around Shouto in response, gripping onto him at first in surprise, but... easing then. Jittery and uncertain one moment, slowly unwinding and relaxing against him the next. Is this... what's normal now? He's quiet, letting his hand run hesitantly up Shouto's back like that's a very new sort of thing to him, mapping out the line of his shoulder blade with lightly fanned fingers and just feeling warm skin. Doesn't realize he's been holding his breath as he blinks for a moment, staring at the light mark he'd left on his throat. His other hand curls and he digs his fingers in self-warning into his palm. Because if it is—

If it is, I...

He shakes his head lightly, almost like chiding himself, and bites the inside of his lip when Shouto kisses the top of his scar so he doesn't cry. He leans up into it instead, like being baptized in a bittersweet joy so overwhelming his heart might burst from it. ] Mm.

Goodnight... [ A light brush of fingertips along his jaw encourages him to lean down so Allen can kiss him too, catching his mouth intimately with his own in something warm and sweet. Something that starts to linger a bit too long, before he reluctantly pulls back before it becomes anything heated. He presses a chaste kiss his cheek immediately after, as if in apology... and he snags the corner of the blankets he had fought with earlier and pulls them up around them both. ] ...Shouto.

[ Said so very softly, like he's saying something else instead of what he does, before he tucks back into place. Hooking an ankle lightly around one of Shouto's, he turns his face in to the crook of his neck and just breathes in the faint scent of snowflakes and cinders. Feels his breathing and heart rate slow as his thoughts begin to drift.

It's funny, he wouldn't have thought about it until Shouto asked, but... being asked to show him his past life, this world-- it's nothing Allen is ashamed of, and it's so very dear to him, defined him so thoroughly and utterly when this had still been his world, yet... Being asked to see it, his "world"-- it makes him hesitate. Makes him realize this isn't something most people would want to know, is it? Especially the ugly truths of it he had been grappling with and trying to understand. You want to know the good and the bad, but the bleakness he's come to recognize is so very bleak the moment he had something different to compare that to, even realizing with Viktor that the Order he loved he maybe only loved because he'd known so little that was good...

...so little he actually belonged to anything in this world he had desperately wanted to exist in...

...is that something he should show someone? Truly? Was there really so little in this life he had had that he would ever want to show to someone else? If I could have shown you the Order and everyone there back before that all came crashing down it would be so different, but... He just hugs him a little tighter at that point, something easy to pass off as a subconscious twitch as one falls to sleep, and leaves it for tomorrow.

There's a twinge in his gut, but he's tired and shrugs it off as nothing. ]

Edited 2022-10-28 10:52 (UTC)

[ The next day, though... is going to have a late start apparently. No matter when they actually wake up, as when Allen goes to find clothes and slowly recalls that he... doesn't recall them hanging up anything to dry... is first going to be doing laundry with Shouto. Again.

He may or may not be a little sour like that. And be very gentle but a lot more adamant than usual in showing Shouto exactly how you're supposed to scrub and dry your clothes. And no, your boots aren't included in that. And you definitely don't soak them!!! (He's bitter about the boots.)

Occasionally he'll grimace at some pain and look a touch confused, but shrug it off and say it's nothing. He probably pulled something when running the other day (even if someone like him doesn't pull anything). Old scars hurting he might admit more softly, if pressed about it, but he's eager to move on and focus on something else. He's also eager to avoid mirrors—all of them, though he doesn't make it an obvious thing easy to pick up on. His eyes just slide past and he doesn't make eye contact with himself—or anything else. He brushes his teeth while staring flatly at the crown molding. Gets into a frowning contest with a spider up there who's staring back at him.

He's still focused mostly on surviving basics and nescessities, his old habits when traveling, when they're actually able to be dressed to leave. Wrangling breakfast (there is no soba, but have you tried steak and kidney pie? It's really good.) which depletes the rest of their money, keeping to the less-than-savory district they ended up to talk to some of the innkeeps and pub owners as they give the both of them odd looks, but don't shut them out like the others had yesterday. Allen's composed and to the point, like it's business as usual for him, asking who's seemed new in town lately. Had they seen people in black robes, or anyone bearing a silver cross who wasn't part of the local parish. Had people been going missing lately. What day was it, and he lost a bit of credibility with that question but gained the understanding that it's February. There's no mention of his being an Exorcist. Zero mention of his being anything other than just another traveler, someone to hardly pay any attention to. He maneuvers the conversations in a way where he doesn't even give his name.

On a whim, one of the first proprietors of a fancy sort of lounge boasting the finest dancers north of London he asks if he'd ever seen a man who looks like a priest with long red hair and a strange mask. Marian Cross, he offers, when his very crudely drawn portrait only gets confused looks. The man, promptly blanching, begins an animated tirade as he slaps a stack of papers down (unpaid bills) and rattles on about over ten years later and that good for nothing still hasn't paid any of his—

Allen, eager to leave, will snag Shouto wrist and drag him out at that point if he has to.

Throughout the day, walking from place to place, he asks some light questions he's never really thought to ask Shouto before: have you heard of Great Britain? He'd mention being born here, but that he'd traveled with his master so much he didn't actually spend a lot of time actually living here so there was a lot he didn't know. But that he did know they were famous for their gentlemanly manners! ✰ (He. Takes great pride in that.) He also marks out some locations to hit later, when the drinking hour hits, so they can have money for dinner...

Sometimes he catches people lingering and staring at them in an uncomfortable manner that even Allen doesn't quite recognize, but he doesn't pay it a lot of mind. Becoming silent and a little uneasy, he just pushes that aside and moves on with more determination to whatever the next thing is. Doesn't dwell on it.

The late start means there's not a lot to get done, and before long he realizes the winter sun is about to set. He changes gears then, seeming to perk up as he crams the rest of a meat pie he had gotten for a snack into his mouth and tugging Shouto along to the outskirts of town then. Through one of the cemeteries and winding up a tall hill, one that overlooks the rest of the city with a stone monument at the top. One that's weathered but not old yet, and bears the name Dugald Stewart carved into it, born 1753 and died 1828.

It offers a perfect panorama of the city below and the castle in the distance, and Allen sits on the steps of it between the columns to watch the sun set to the west in front of them. He looks up to Shouto and waits on him though, even as his thoughts drift back to the day with some anxiety.

We're missing something, aren't we? ... I'm missing something. ]

This isn't where I watched the sunset first with Mana. [ A gentle admission and apology. That place was a busy city square—right next to one of the places that had thrown them out yesterday, actually. ]

...But I always wanted to. See it from up here.

[ It's easier to think and talk about those memories when away from people, too. And cemeteries are places that give him more peace than the living. ]

[ The morning passes in a blur of wet clothes and instructions on the merits of laundry. Fortunately, Shouto had the foresight to set the clothes to dry the night before when he gave Allen space to dry and cloth himself. Predictably, the clothes are not in the best shape the following day, a quandary he planned to solve with his left side before Allen starts on his 'lessons' that leave him grimacing in pain at times. Old scars. Allen insists, which have Shouto openly staring at him in search of any other signs of injury. Shouto, for his part, insists on bandaging his feet before they head out for breakfast, managing to create his own medical supplies on the fly by adequately washing the sheet they slept on, per Allen's instructions, and drying it in a flash with his quirk. When it's dry, he promptly rips the sheet into two semi-equal lengths with his strength alone, setting them aside for his task. He listens to any complaints that come his way with a half ear. Intent on his task, he carefully wraps Allen's feet with the same single-minded dedication that he shows when feeding the koi or putting down tatami mats to replace the ones he burned. Even when Allen seems to walk without issue, he still offers to carry him through town, an offer that's promptly rejected as they head out of their room.

Breakfast is an odd affair. He's never had kidney pie but he eats everything on his plate with a spoon after he fails to find a pair of chopsticks. The flavor is more richer than he's used too but he makes no complaints even when the tea he's served tastes... strange.

Walking through Allen's world Shouto is reminded of the West with its busy unorganized cities. He's used to efficiency, but here it's almost nonexistent. There's no order he can see. No signs or instructions telling you where to go. He gets easily lost in the noise and bustle and has to stick close to Allen after he stops to look at something on display and loses him in the crowd. It's half an hour before he finds him again and that's only because he climbs onto the rooftops without a hood or hat. The crowds quickly find him and raise a commotion before Allen tracks him down and the two disappear with their hair brusquely covered.

The rest of the day is similar to what he witnessed when Allen was bound to a wheelchair and Shouto took him around town to talk to people. This time he doesn't need his help to get around, so he fades into the background to observe their surroundings in search of anything out of place. The problem is, everything seems out of place to him. From the way people talk in slang he doesn't understand to the way they act from brusque and confrontational to sweet and helpful. Allen sometimes sweeps in when Shouto finds someone who is helpful. He tries to interject on their behalf which usually ends up with Allen taking them somewhere else.

Sometimes Allen asks him questions too. Have you heard of Great Britain? It's a collection of island nations. England, Scotland, and... another island.
He also mentions being born where they are now, and Shouto asks him where he liked to play, curious to know more about him. Allen talks about traveling with his Master, which Shouto finds fascinating with how animated he gets about certain things. He doesn't always understand some of what he says - gentlemanly manners? - but he can tell he enjoyed his time with him.

Unlike Allen, Shouto doesn't catch the stares thrown his way until Allen grows quiet, but before he can question him about it, he strides forward. He's so used to being stared at for his name and quirk it's become second nature to ignore them making him none the wiser. Shouto also doesn't snack between meals, but he's okay with eating a snack for a meal. He doesn't need as many calories as Allen despite their noticeable size difference. Later, when they pass a cemetery, Shouto stares outright at the stark difference in how they bury their dead. The cemetery is large. It's hard to see where one family is buried versus another and he doesn't think he sees any urns with ashes. His thoughts still linger on the cemetery they passed as they climb up to a stone monument of a man from near the end of the Edo Period.

Do you know them?

Shouto asks, looking up at Allen. In the dimming light, he looks so very far away. What are you thinking about? Quietly, he joins him at the steps, gaze lingering on him instead of the sunset ahead. They lock eyes when Allen turns to him to talk about Mana. His father. The one who cursed him. The Akuma. The one he smiled every day for. ]

You really miss him.

Edited 2022-10-28 18:22 (UTC)

[ My god the heart attack he has when he loses track of Shouto... you have no idea. He's not one to randomly accost people or lose all pretense at keeping his cool but he absolutely was inches from grabbing some poor vendor by his lapels while blurting "Have you seen a man with half white and half red hair?!?!?!?!" He's pretty sure he scared the poor man... if this is truly reality now he'll have to make a note to go back and apologize to him.

He appreciates the help in trying to find any sort of answers, any reasons there might be that this is the moment they're in. Even if sometimes it's... less than helpful, he appreciates it nonetheless. And it doesn't even really matter, no one seems to have heard anything. There's no involvement of the Order. No immediate threat, but... no immediate reason either. The question about what he liked to "play" catches Allen in a rare moment of being entirely flat-footed for an answer though, and he blinks for a moment. Oh...

He... liked to play hide and seek with Tim a lot. It's an almost shy sort of answer, his gaze sliding aside. A pause before he admits he never really played much as a child, and his hand would brush lightly against Shouto's as he looks at him and debates if he should ask, before finally deciding to and asking if there was something he had liked to play too--or wanted to. The caveat is included as he feels like he can guess, from what he knows of him, but doesn't want to draw attention to it.

Shouto's pause when they pass the cemetary draws a look from Allen as well, curious and concerned. He'd been unsettled by the dead in the catacombs too, it makes him recall suddenly, and he reaches for his hand as he asks him quietly if he's alright—and will gently squeeze his hand in reassurance regardless of the answer.

...Although he does blink and stare at him a little owlishly when he asks later if he... knows "him"? Who?

No, he does not know this random famous Scottish philosopher. (As if he even knows that much; he'd have to be educated or something.) It's just a nice monument he was drawn to.

He doesn't mean to seem faraway when the sun starts to set though. He's just... it's a lot, you know? Being back here again, seeing this sight when he didn't think he would ever. It's easy to get lost in thought, so he blinks slightly at Shouto's comment on Mana before he smiles gently in response. Hugs his knees to his chest for a moment, before he points down to where the the city opens up beneath them. ]

...do you see that fountain down there? [ The one in the largest square that, where the city seems to open up into a busy crossroads of activity. Where people who dress how Allen often does back in Trench are hurrying either to home or a show, buttoned up against the cold, and a fountain sits in the middle. Even from up here it's clearly visible. ]

That's where he showed me the sunset. Where we first performed together, too.

[ He looks down at his boots, flexing the toes of them for a moment. Where Shouto had wrapped his feet so gently and earnestly earlier. ]

I didn't even know what was going on, or the first thing about performing for a crowd. I was just the errand boy. But he acted like it was the easiest and most natural thing in the world for me to do too and told me just to smile so everyone else would too. "Tragedy has put us together on this stage..."

[ He echoes it softly, words from long ago. He'd never really thought that deeply on them before; how strange they were to say to a child you should have barely known. ]

I think he saw the world like that.

Edited 2022-10-28 19:06 (UTC)

[ Tim. Not the one he knows but the one Allen lost here. He takes his hand in his and presses his shoulders to his. I didn't play much either. He adds, adding a touch of warmth with his quirk. I'd like to play catch with my siblings. He answers resolutely after a moment. He used to watch them play from the inner house, children he didn't know. His brothers. His sister. They always seemed so far away, separated from them after Touya's attempt on his life when he was still too small to crawl, not that Shouto knew that back then. It's something his brother had told him here. A secret he didn't know how to address or what to feel.

The cemetery is a place of contention for him, not because he fears the dead but the difference in how they revered their dead. He's never been to a Western cemetery before. It's familiar, yet so starkly different. The monument is passed over for the view of the city below. Allen is the lens in which he sees the world, so when he chooses to focus on the fountain instead of the monument they find themselves on, Shouto follows suit. It takes him a moment to catch sight of the landmark but mismatched eyes soon catch the shimmering colors of the sunset amid the stone fountain. ]

What did you perform?

[ He asks, eyes locked on the fountain, trying to imagine a young Allen going through one of the performances he's seen him put on for the kids at the orphanage back home. Though the quote draws his gaze back to him. ]

Tragedy?

[ He echoes, in turn, his brows pinching in lightly, not understanding his words. ]

He saw the world as a tragedy?

[ Playing catch. That's... such a simple and ordinary sort of desire; it's both a little surprising at the same time that it makes complete sense. Why weren't you able to play with your siblings is something he wonders about, but at recalling the young Touya he had met, and the animosity he'd had even at that age... he can take an educated guess at why. So he welcomes to companionable press of shoulders and returns it, shoring up in kind. ]

I didn't really... ehe. [ It's a touch sheepish. ] I could barely keep up with what was going on. But he carried me on his shoulders as he did magic tricks, making flowers appear for the crowd. They loved it. I'd never seen so many smiles before... [ He shakes his head slightly, his mind wandering slightly, before Shouto's question pulls him back. ]

Mm, not a tragedy... a stage. [ He glances away, back towards the city, as he turns that over in his head. Sifts through the memories. ]

Even when he was so sad it looked like he wanted to cry, he just smiled instead. Because he didn't want anyone else to be sad—and because that would be dangerous then.

He can imagine it. He's seen it play out before on commercials. The doting father. A smiling child on their shoulders. The flowers are a new experience, but given it's Allen, it makes sense. He's so caught up in the image of his past self he misses the implications of his words. I'd never seen so many smiles before.

A stage... It's not something he'd agreed with, which many heroes would find odd since they worked on the world stage. Their actions were captured by the media, and videos of their deeds covered every inch of the internet. Yet, Shouto didn't see it that way. The gloss of heroism was lost on him when he knew what lay behind the scenes. Heroes were just as fallible as anyone else, but the media made sure to edit those parts out.

I don't see it that way. The world.

[ He looks down at their joined hands. Noting the rough callouses of his against Allen's. ]

Why would it be dangerous?

[ It's funny, it's both impossible for him to get callouses on his left hand and entirely unnecessary. His right, the fingertips are lightly roughened but otherwise even his human hand is almost oddly smooth by comparison for someone who fights hand-to-hand. Someone who's always worn gloves for so very long.

—which he had been very conscious of wearing all day, of course, but also slipped quietly off when they sat.

That answer has Allen tipping his head slightly though, not because it's contrary but because he says it so clearly. How do you see it then? ]

It's different here, because of the war. Because of akuma. [ He says it softly, but seriously. ]

"If you're sad... then he will come." That's what he'd say. [ He's quiet for a moment too, his own gaze drawn back down to their hands. He presses his thumb lightly against Shouto's. ]

Grieving a loved one here, getting lost in that kind of grief... it summons someone. The one who uses their grief to create new akuma. That's how they fight. By taking advantage of sadness. Using despair to feed more despair and killing everyone involved. Making more weapons of them.

[ A pause. ] It isn't like Trench, where the state of the world creates an atmosphere of despair and everything adapts to it like the natural order. Even if maybe some Pthumerians interfere and try to play god, even thrive off corruption or blood, it isn't the same. [ It's a difference of intent—and scale. Organization.

...it's why he likes the Waking World better, even with its monsters and persistent horror. ]

Here, it's orchestrated with purpose. To weaponize human emotion against itself.

...That's why everyone has to be careful. [ He grips Shouto's hand tighter, almost as if in warning. ] Even if almost no one down there understands it.

Edited 2022-10-28 21:04 (UTC)

Who is 'he'? Do you know him?

[ Met him? Shouto doesn't understand Allen's world all that well. Too many complications. Wars and monsters aren't something he knows outside of history books. Even if it feels like he's at the dawn of one: a war between heroes and villains. It's still different than what Allen describes.

It isn't like Trench... Here, it's orchestrated with purpose. To weaponize human emotion against itself.

Against itself. If that's the case, then what happens when - ]

If Akuma are created out of grief, what does joy create?

Mm. [ It's an... unhappy sound. Disgruntled. ] The Earl of the Millennium, he's called.

I met him when he used me to make Mana an akuma.

[ He leaves it at that, the weight of that very loaded and delicate statement, choosing to look out over the city instead. Expression hard to read, at least until--]

Edited 2022-10-28 21:35 (UTC)

[ Until Shouto says that. ]

Joy? [ Goggling. So very entirely dumbfounded by just how... simple that is. How obvious that he feels kind of stupid for not having ever considered it before. ]

I... never really thought about that before. [ Blinking, staring still. ]

It's... only grief that he uses for that purpose. There isn't anything else that anyone else... does. [ Is there? His mind is scrambling a bit to try and consider that new lens. ]

Innocence is... different. I think.

[ The Earl of the Millenium. It sounds like a gaudy hero name, not that he thinks of him as a hero. Allen's answer is proof of that. He knows the story of Mana and Allen. The Akuma he became. The curse he marked him with. He has questions. Many of them, but Shouto doesn't pry into it. Not when Allen looks away from him towards the city. He can read between the lines, a rarity for him, though not so much considering his background. Family tragedies are something he understands.

As for the rest, it has him wrinkling his brow and tilting his head slightly, not entirely understanding his answer with what he's witnessed. ]

Isn't that what you do when you perform? Give people joy?

[ He doesn't understand, tries to, but the complexity of human emotions are far beyond him. He's never been able to read people, not like Allen. Yet, he's not hesitant with his words, maybe because he's not afraid of being wrong. Of having his assumptions corrected. He rather know even if he'll only end up understanding a sliver of it. ]

Isn't that why Mana told you to smile?

Edited 2022-10-28 21:53 (UTC)

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I somehow lost this tag!

you're fine! ♥

<3

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