[ Being monstrous isn't about looking the part. The worst monsters Allen ever knew were fully and "normally" human in appearance, their actions and delight in the torture of others weaker than them defining them in such a manner. Its appearance monstrous by the textbook definitions of most societies, something nonhuman in a way that's frightful to others, but so were akuma and Krory and those Allen sees as fully human and not what they're labeled. No, what makes it monstrous to even Allen isn't that--
It's the casual killing aura. The contempt for humans, maneuvering and using them as sacrificial pawns for its own mysterious gains-- and realizing that thing is the same as the weapon he was born with. The thing he'd already labeled himself a monster for. Not even because of his own appearance--
But because of the delicate and kind person he murdered with it.
Something can look fully human and be a monster-- and something can look monstrous and be the most human of all.
His head snaps briefly to Shouto in confusion and a bit of a pained look at that accusation, but there's no time to respond. It grabs his throat and he can't breath, only able to kick weakly and grab at that hand with his single functional one. Not a killing blow, at least not an immediate one, just enough to crush his windpipe and cause him to begin to black out. Be too weak to fight back and keep trying to escape.
It doesn't want Allen to die, after all. Allen is precious. Crown Clown worries for him too.
No, it deflects Shouto's attempt at an attack with wings that seem entirely impervious to an attack of that nature and dispatches him in the same move with callous disregard. Its attention turning fully on Allen before Shouto's body has even finished dropping as he kicks with a silent scream he can't get the air for. Twisting his body with a force he shouldn't be able to as slams his foot into the side of its head. Again and again even with his vision going dark and tears blurring his eyes.
"Allen..."
The voice is softer, raspy in this form but unnervingly loving. Something even Shouto could still hear in the void of the dream as his consciousness bleeds away. "Why do you keep running?"
It strokes his face with a bloodied hand, leaning in close enough the smell of ozone mixes with the coppery scent.
"We're one, you and I."
With that it reaches and grabs the twisting feathered mess of his left arm -- and pulls. Drawing the form of it out like some kind of grotesque inhuman putty as it stretches beyond any human limit, burning bright as the moon, and Allen contorts with a thin and airless scream. There's a rip. The snap of something breaking --
1/2
It's the casual killing aura. The contempt for humans, maneuvering and using them as sacrificial pawns for its own mysterious gains-- and realizing that thing is the same as the weapon he was born with. The thing he'd already labeled himself a monster for. Not even because of his own appearance--
But because of the delicate and kind person he murdered with it.
Something can look fully human and be a monster-- and something can look monstrous and be the most human of all.
His head snaps briefly to Shouto in confusion and a bit of a pained look at that accusation, but there's no time to respond. It grabs his throat and he can't breath, only able to kick weakly and grab at that hand with his single functional one. Not a killing blow, at least not an immediate one, just enough to crush his windpipe and cause him to begin to black out. Be too weak to fight back and keep trying to escape.
It doesn't want Allen to die, after all. Allen is precious. Crown Clown worries for him too.
No, it deflects Shouto's attempt at an attack with wings that seem entirely impervious to an attack of that nature and dispatches him in the same move with callous disregard. Its attention turning fully on Allen before Shouto's body has even finished dropping as he kicks with a silent scream he can't get the air for. Twisting his body with a force he shouldn't be able to as slams his foot into the side of its head. Again and again even with his vision going dark and tears blurring his eyes.
"Allen..."
The voice is softer, raspy in this form but unnervingly loving. Something even Shouto could still hear in the void of the dream as his consciousness bleeds away. "Why do you keep running?"
It strokes his face with a bloodied hand, leaning in close enough the smell of ozone mixes with the coppery scent.
"We're one, you and I."
With that it reaches and grabs the twisting feathered mess of his left arm -- and pulls. Drawing the form of it out like some kind of grotesque inhuman putty as it stretches beyond any human limit, burning bright as the moon, and Allen contorts with a thin and airless scream. There's a rip. The snap of something breaking --
And then the world goes dark. ]