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deercountry2022-09-18 01:29 pm
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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. ]
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. ]
no subject
He expression remains equally calm and even though. Wary. ]
Why?
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Because I like him.
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He stares flatly back in response, as if yes, silently judging him quite a bit for that answer even if he says nothing. It's more because the wheels are turning. Wheels that have decided Allen has become stupid. Incredibly stupid.
He turns his head to the side, looking away. ]
I have no reason to talk to you unless you start giving me better answers than that. [ flatly ]
For all I know you're just some creepy stalker.
[ pot, kettle ]
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What kind of answer do you want?
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He looks back at him with an absolutely leaden stare. ]
Who are you, for starters.
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[ Now, tit for tat. ]
Who are you?
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Are you a child? Who trains to be a "hero". How conceited. [ Seriously. He doesn't know whether to laugh or be ill. Opinion of Allen: declining steadily. ]
And I already told you. [ He shifts under the covers at that, golden eyes bright and sharp as leans up against the hand that's pressing down on him. Like a wolf on a leash. ] Nea D. Campbell.
[ Make sure you get it right. The other names people try to slap on him make him want to choke on his own derisive bile. ]
If "Allen" didn't tell you anything more, that's on him.
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[ He corrects him without an ounce of embarrassment and he is very much serious.
You gave him a first name like it meant anything to him. For someone who speaks a lot, you don't say much. ]
Why are you inside of Allen? What do you do? Are you a ghost or a parasite?
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How laughable.
[ It's an art, being able to talk a lot while saying nothing the other person wants to hear, and one that Nea is good at. "Parasite" gets a small, irritated kind of twitch from him though. Sore spot? Maybe. ]
That is something between me and Allen.
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One Allen adheres to quite well. It's who they met. Why they continued to meet, and one of the reasons Shouto likes him. Not because he can fight but because he's willing to fight to protect others. ]
Allen never spoke of you.
[ Just going to preface this whole conversation with that. ]
He spoke of a ghost haunting this place.
[ Point blank: ] Are you dead?
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The blunt question gets a flat response, but not one from a position of judgement or ire. Golden eyes slant at him slowly, almost lazily. ]
I'm not anymore if I'm talking to you now, am I?
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Silence follows that answer while he tries to understand what he means. From what he's told him, Allen is still there, only pacified. The ghost, Nea, can switch places with him, but either he won't or can't at the moment. He wants to know which so he can act, but first, there's something more important he needs to clarify before he proceeds. ]
Where you born with him?
[ Meaning, was he a part of Allen or indeed a parasite he picked up? Because there's a world of difference between the two. ]
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[ He keeps looking at him with an intensity that belays how there's more to that answer than just that, though. Wary, cautious, but with a touch of intrigue as well. Consideration.
How much would you want to know about your precious "Allen"? ]
But we've been together a long time. [ Oh, the inside jokes you'll never know. ]
You could say we're old friends.
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If you're friends, then why are you keeping him suppressed?
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So airy and delicate like Allen, but pitying. Cold. A serial killer's loving contempt for the one they're about to erase. You poor wretched thing. ]
Because this body is what he promised me.
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He stiffens, jaw locked at the outright lie set before him. ]
You're lying.
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You weren't there. You've barely been here at all, whatever fairyland you crawled out from. No one who calls himself a "hero" so blithely could have possibly been here for even a fraction of what "Allen" has lived through, let alone understand it. It's laughable how naïve that is, or do you think anyone who says their side is the "right" and "good" one is automatically so?
They're the ones who hunt Allen even now. People who would call themselves "heroes", right alongside the ones condemned as devils. People who didn't care that all he wanted was to "save" as soon as they didn't agree with his terms, with who he wanted to save. Who won't hesitate to put him down like a dog and execute him, all in the name of being righteous heroes of humanity.
[ He struggles against the blankets like he's trying to sit up, trying to lean into his face, although he can't. With a feral glow in his eyes and an unpleasant smile masking and mixing with the very real bite in his tone. ]
Who are you to know Allen when I've known him all along?
A newcomer. A nobody.
1/2 | cw: mentions of suicide
[ He says with more confidence than one would expect without knowing the details of their relationship. ]
I know Allen. He might be reckless at times, but he's not suicidal.
[ And that's what it comes down to. He spent a week mourning his death while reconciling with the fact that the person who came back, if he came back, might not be the person he knew. It added another layer to his grief. One he didn't know how to address until he saw him. The surge of joy at seeing him, the utter relief he felt when he realized he still knew him. It was then, at that moment, that he had his answer. His physical form never mattered, it was the soul painted with care with an arrangement of memories that he loved so much.
That was who Allen was to Shouto.
Everything Nea was not. That's why, for the first time since his arrival, his composure begins to crack. The closer Nea draws to him, the more Shouto pulls back. It's not a singular word or moment that turns the tide but a combination of everything he's seen and heard. Why didn't you say anything? The thought that Allen might be hunted by people who consider him a villain makes his stomach turn, but it's the realization that this caricature set before him might actively be trying to kill him that finally sets him off. ]
It doesn't matter who I am.
[ It never did. Not when his family was suffering, not when his-- there's a pause there, a look of confusion under the rising anger. It's gone within a moment. He moves on without an answer because that's not what's important right now - what Allen is to him - what matters is getting him back. ]
Neither does the Order or you.
[ He doesn't care about any of it. Don't you understand that?! He told you from the start what he cared about, and never once did he indicate there were caveats attached to his feelings. In the same way, Allen loves humanity, Shouto loves his family and friends.
Unconditionally. He's ready to fight for any of them, even when they openly hate him. Hurt him. Allen never once questioned his pursuit of wanting to get to know his brother. Despite being killed by Touya, he never asked him to reconsider his heart. Never questioned him. From the start, he understood him in a way few have ever have, more than Shouto would ever understand him, but that's the thing about the heart: it doesn't seek a reason for what it feels; it just does. ]
2/2
His eyes slant down, lips tight at the corners where his temper starts to bleed through. He stops moving back, the moment of confusion turning into determination. ]
Let him go.
[ A hand snaps forward, gripping him by the back of the neck, and yanks him forward; face to face. This time, Shouto stares straight into gold in search of grey. ]
Allen. [ Said in a commanding tone. ] Wake up.
no subject
Stay out— [ There's a sharp movement and the blankets rip apart and shred as he wrenches through the measly fabric bindings on his arms in a surge of power. All the shifting under the blankets like he had been uneasy? A ruse while he tested how to leverage against them. How loathsome to have to rely on Innocence.
That hand snaps up to grab Shouto's throat again though, with all intent to crush it with Allen's full strength like someone would a bug. ]
—of things you know nothing about.
[ It should only take a second to do it, too. Crush someone's windpipe entirely without even breaking a sweat, like it's absolutely nothing. That's the sort of casual strength Allen has in that inhuman hand even if he rarely shows or indicates it; if he ever loses his cool enough to not be painfully aware of his own strength he can splinter apart a solid wooden door just from slamming it behind him in what should otherwise be a regular teenage huff. It's part of why he's so hesitant to touch people with it. Nea has deadly intent to use it this time which means the moment his fingers close around his throat, a single squeeze will be all it takes to make it the last breath he drew his last.
But that doesn't happen. He might begin to squeeze, hard enough to mistake as just a warning—but he just stops then. Stares at Shouto, not understanding, as his eyes locked with his own mismatched ones narrow abruptly. Furious. Confused.
The thing about the duality of Allen and Nea, of two souls—two sets of memories locked in the same body is that while one thing is going on with the one that's conscious, there's something else going on for the one that's "asleep". Because to sleep is to dream, and dreaming deep within the depths of their own souls they can be very much conscious of themselves in such a state. Allen might not be aware of outside reality, the physical world, but he's aware of himself and knows he isn't in control of his own body. The other side of the story taking place concurrent to this one. He's in there, already trying to understand the situation and find a way back, because that's just how he is. Trying to find his guidepost for the way back from oblivion, for all practical purposes a "ghost" now himself.
Because the truth is he should have already faded away. Become nothingness as Nea's memories eroded his own enough to finally gain conscious control of the body, but he didn't. Isn't. Not just for his own stubborn will to exist, because that on its own isn't enough. It needs a direction, a guidepost back to the world: an anchor.
His bonds. Because only the mutual affection between people is what's enough to surpass even the limits of the soul once it's been separated from the body. The only thing that can challenge the natural order of things and the nature of life itself, and what Allen himself had once said was what made humans truly formidable and stronger than they were given credit for. Not the stubborn willpower of the individual, but the love between people that can bridge even the spiritual and the physical. Transcendence.
That's the nature of akuma—and humans. That the rest of the world doesn't want to admit are one and the same.
That's why when Shouto calls out to Allen, why when Nea lunges and grabs his throat again—he just seems to freeze in place. Left hand starts trembling, like he's being restrained, like there's push and pull, and his fingers won't clamp down. Why Nea's eyes widen and dilate, furious and wild with outrage and disbelief even as his body seems frozen in place—
And gold begins to swirl with silver. ]
no subject
Akuma and the Order. A war between humanity and a token of Innoncence governed by the unknown. It all means nothing to someone who hasn't lived the utter despair and misery of this world. He comes from a far kinder place to truly understand Allen, let alone Nea's perspective, but that doesn't make him any less aware of what comes next. Any hero worth their salt would be able to see the move and counter it.
In an instant, Allen freezes in place in a rapid crescendo of crackling ice that covers the whole of the bed. Despite knowing that he can still crush his throat, Shouto stays where he is. Call him green. Naive. ]
Allen.
[ His voice stays firm as if he didn't just avoid being killed as his left hand slowly warms the back of his neck in a loving manner. ]
Stand up and fight. Or I will.
no subject
When did faith in others become something to be mocked and called naive for? But that's why Allen has never belonged in his own world, too kind and too gentle to be anything other than hurt and disappointed over and over again in a world full of cruel reality.
Shouto's ice freezes him but isn't why he's frozen. His body locked in a struggle between two sets of consciousness, a push and pull, as his expression remains Nea's but twitches. Teeth grit in determination as he locks eyes with Shouto as if it's all his fault, and the clipped use of his name and disabling attack doesn't seem to tip the balance at all. It just seems to redouble Nea's will and his body trembles under the strain, the desire to crush and something holding him back.
But then Shouto's hand warms against his neck and his eyes abruptly widen, perfectly moonlike and surprised. Pale silvery grey in an instant, and his expression goes momentarily blank, softening subtly as it becomes more like Allen. His left hand goes slack at his throat.
Before something clicks and his eyes snap abruptly back onto Shouto's. Dazzlingly bright grey with himself and surprise as he realizes the moment and their position, where they are. That he's cold, that he's frozen, but Shouto's hand is also warm against the back of his neck and cradling it so gently. He stares, not understanding at first. Would overbalance and fall if not for the ice keeping him in place. ]
Shou— [ He blinks once, focusing. ]
...to? [ His hand--
Why is his hand... at your throat? ]
no subject
Allen!
[ Throwing caution to the wind, Shouto holds his face in his hands, melting the ice with a wildfire lit inside him. ]
Don't give up!
[ An appeal from a man prone to subtlety. Followed by his name, slow in coming but all too familiar after months of sharing close quarters. The voice of someone who means the world to him with the power to transform his entire facade with a single word. ]
I'm here. [ He half-smiles, forgetting about the hand at his throat, relieved to hear him again. ] You came back.
no subject
Back. He is back. Like before, but his relief is cut-short at realizing their positions, the cuts on Shouto's face, the dark bruising on his throat, and Allen begins trembling. Expression dropping abruptly in dismay, he sits back hard and rips his hand away. Shakes harder at realizing his hand is a perfect match to the bruising on him. There are cuts on Shouto's arms too, bandaged hands-- ]
I— [ He stutters over the word, eyes wild with panic as he scoots back in his underwear while not even noticing that. Almost falling over himself to back away from Shouto and half looking like he might bolt, half looking like he's frozen in place.
It's his worst sort of nightmare you know? This, and it churns his stomach to realize it. ]
I hurt... you...
[ The best end to any chapter in Allen's book can only ever be a bittersweet one, and this is no different. The chapter's end is in Nea, and with his being repressed by Allen once again the book begins to close. No matter if Allen were to try and get away or Shouto to reach for him, reality seems to compress and warp again. A stomach-turning sort of surreal feeling as the world around them twists and fades—
—and reality snaps back, slamming them back where they were in their living room like no time has passed at all. ]
1/2
I--
2/2
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