⛧ Aʟʟᴇɴ "ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴘʀɪᴇsᴛ" Wᴀʟᴋᴇʀ ★ (
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deercountry2023-05-05 06:28 pm
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Entry tags:
And even though she's dreaming
Who: Allen Walker and Shouto Todoroki
What: In seeking to understand himself better, Allen's still-persisting doubts and fears about the nature of his power manifest in nightmares that, for Palebloods who can walk in dreams with others... isn't guaranteed to stay a problem you can keep to yourself forever.
When: End of April
Where: the nightmare fuel place inside Allen's head 🙃
Content Warnings: The general existential and some minor body horror that surrounds Allen, being hunted, discussion of child soldiers, child abuse, religious zealotry, parasitic entities, etc.
[ Upon waking, it feels just like that -- waking. Even if it would be more accurate to say it's actually like falling asleep deeper, straight down through the depths of consciousness until you come out the other side. Where you know your mind is awake and alert, your thoughts conscious, but the world around you...
...it isn't quite right.
When Shouto feels his consciousness drift and steps from one dream to the next, one of the first things he might notice is how the pale bloodstone band on his ear thrums with a heavy resonance in a way it never has before. Reactive and -- perhaps seeking? Like the world around him has made it come alive, or it makes the world alive. It quickly calms to a whisper, and then the world comes into focus.
It's dark. A forest at night. Nondescript; it seems like it could be anywhere, perhaps even the Trenchwood. Quiet, which wouldn't seem ominous until you suddenly realize there should still be some sort of sound of life, of at least the wind in the leaves, yet there is nothing. And then-- a flash of white streaking past him like a rabbit being pursued. No warning, no sound of the brush being broken and pushed through. ]
Shouto--?! [ It's a bit of a startled squawk, head snapping around as Allen leaps past him before realizing that someone's there, and who it is. With eyes that are entirely lucid and clear, and not caught in any kind of hazy dream unreality. He comes to a quick skidded stop on his heel, the picture as he ever is in Trench, save for one detail.
The left arm, dragging behind him not as an arm but as a mutated sort of wing. Glowing white and shedding feathers as his invocation does, but not in any form it's ever taken. Not the polished and delicately wrought form Crown Clown is supposed to take, but something that seems frantic and unlike himself. Entirely mutant and otherworldly, feathers squirming where there was probably once fingers, without reflecting any of Allen himself.
But aside from bracing it with his good hand it doesn't seem to be bothering him, and he's just staring at Shouto like of all things, somehow his being here is the strangest?
Yet the air seems to be slowly pressing down further on the both of them. Oppressive; unnatural. Like the night itself is what's actually dangerous. ]
Why are you here...?
What: In seeking to understand himself better, Allen's still-persisting doubts and fears about the nature of his power manifest in nightmares that, for Palebloods who can walk in dreams with others... isn't guaranteed to stay a problem you can keep to yourself forever.
When: End of April
Where: the nightmare fuel place inside Allen's head 🙃
Content Warnings: The general existential and some minor body horror that surrounds Allen, being hunted, discussion of child soldiers, child abuse, religious zealotry, parasitic entities, etc.
...it isn't quite right.
When Shouto feels his consciousness drift and steps from one dream to the next, one of the first things he might notice is how the pale bloodstone band on his ear thrums with a heavy resonance in a way it never has before. Reactive and -- perhaps seeking? Like the world around him has made it come alive, or it makes the world alive. It quickly calms to a whisper, and then the world comes into focus.
It's dark. A forest at night. Nondescript; it seems like it could be anywhere, perhaps even the Trenchwood. Quiet, which wouldn't seem ominous until you suddenly realize there should still be some sort of sound of life, of at least the wind in the leaves, yet there is nothing. And then-- a flash of white streaking past him like a rabbit being pursued. No warning, no sound of the brush being broken and pushed through. ]
Shouto--?! [ It's a bit of a startled squawk, head snapping around as Allen leaps past him before realizing that someone's there, and who it is. With eyes that are entirely lucid and clear, and not caught in any kind of hazy dream unreality. He comes to a quick skidded stop on his heel, the picture as he ever is in Trench, save for one detail.
The left arm, dragging behind him not as an arm but as a mutated sort of wing. Glowing white and shedding feathers as his invocation does, but not in any form it's ever taken. Not the polished and delicately wrought form Crown Clown is supposed to take, but something that seems frantic and unlike himself. Entirely mutant and otherworldly, feathers squirming where there was probably once fingers, without reflecting any of Allen himself.
But aside from bracing it with his good hand it doesn't seem to be bothering him, and he's just staring at Shouto like of all things, somehow his being here is the strangest?
Yet the air seems to be slowly pressing down further on the both of them. Oppressive; unnatural. Like the night itself is what's actually dangerous. ]
Why are you here...?
no subject
The figure who's standing there who very much isn't an Exorcist, but who they also quickly leave behind. ]
! [ Once he might have faltered at the sudden escape on ice, but he's quick to expect it and adapt now with how long they've been side by side like this. Allen looks behind too, fearful still, but can see nothing but ice and the trees below. The moon above--
It isn't there actually. It's a moonless night, no sign even of there being one cloaked in shadow, with the only light coming from faint starlight and the glow of his left arm. They can't even see ahead of them or where they're going very well, only a very short range ahead. ]
I don't know... this never happens. [ And that's a little distressing, Allen's attention turning back to Shouto as he has to hold onto and lean against him with his good side. Shouto who also doesn't seem to be behaving like a dream Shouto either, or acting like some manifestation of Allen's.
This feels actually real... Why does it feel real? ]
Shouto... [ are you actually Shouto? ] ...why are you here?
[ Allen worries his lip lightly, torn over whether or not he's relieved or guilty that he's there. Both? But what does any of that mean?
It's then that entire unbeknownst to him, traveling at an equal speed to them... the shadows thicken and melt. Ooze. Take shape. Forming into the same grim-faced visage of the priest-- who then reaches out of seemingly thin air. Wisps of glowing feathers beginning to peel off his fingers as he grabs with sudden and vicious force at the back of Allen's head. ]
no subject
The instant he sees that same panicked look his mother gave him when she poured boiling water on him, Shouto steps back, clamming up immediately. If it wasn't for the figure in the woods, that scene would have played out very differently. Instead, training takes over and he goes into hero mode, pushing down his personal feelings to react to the situation at hand.
When they're riding above the canopy, Shouto sets Allen ahead of him making sure not to touch him for more than a second to steady him like he would with any civilian. He needs directions so that's what the focuses on, ignoring everything else that makes no sense to him. ]
I don't know what you mean.
[ He answers in a collected tone he would use for any civilian. Project a calm front to keep them calm, while you get them out of danger, Aizawa had taught them, and Shouto was always at the top of his class. He wasn't like Midoriya or Uraraka who could project a gentle demeanor to put people at ease but the outcome was the same, at least on a surface level. Ignoring his failings, he does what he always does, discarding what doesn't make sense from Allen's answer and focusing on what does. ]
What never happens?
[ He keeps propagating more ice hoping that the distance he put between them and the Exorcist is enough to figure out what Allen is trying to tell him when shadows form in an instant beside him, and a feathered limb like the one that tried to devour Allen tries to grab him by the neck. Shouto reacts on instinct, blasting it with fire while the ice instantly curves down around the thickest tree maneuvering past the branches before devolving into tight concentric circles to eat up their momentum as they plunge down to the forest floor. Landing in a blastwave of ice absorbs the rest of their momentum that sends them crashing to the floor.
Shouto has his arms around Allen the whole time, keeping a tight grip on him, in case the feathers come for him again. He takes a moment to reorient himself. ]
What's their quirk?
[ He urges between breathes that push out the cold freeze building up in his lungs. He takes no more than a few seconds to rest before he forces himself back to his feet, mismatched eyes still glued to the trees, ready to react to another attack. ]
no subject
His eyes widen when Shouto suddenly sends his fire out right past him at something, twisting to see the familiar form of the cardinal right as those fingers reach straight through that flame like it means nothing to it, even as what human-looking flesh still remaining seems to char and burn as one would think it should, but swipe harmlessly through the air as they veer away. Down and down until they half-crash, and go tumbling as Allen clings on too. Still with only his human right arm functional as the left still is a writhing wing-like mess of softly glowing mutated feathers and vaguely human form.
He wheezes lightly, the air knocked from his lungs, as they sit back up and catch their breath, but shakes his head at the question about its "quirk" with immediate certainty. Shouto, they really need to have a talk about a lot of misunderstanding coming from presuming everything works the same for everyone else as it does for you. ]
It's not a person. [ From the one who's spoken time and time again of how he sees even Beasts and Akuma as still human.
Allen gets back up to his feet as well, lips pressed thinly together as he takes in where they've landed. More of the same, the nondescript inky black forest. He holds his left arm to his side with his right, fingers digging into the squirming mess for a moment as he breathes out, uncomfortable but grimly composed. On guard, but stepping back slightly so his good shoulder touches Shouto's faintly in unspoken reminder. A gesture to compensate the fact he can't touch his hand gently now. ]
That's living Innocence.
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Not a person.
His head snaps down to stare at Allen like he's grown a second head. What do you mean it's not a person??? A flash of confusion crosses his face with no idea how to categorize someone as not a person. ]
An animal?
[ It's his best guess. One that looks like a person??? Was it a projection then?! He tries to think fast. What kind of creature it can be. From Trench most likely he deduces, before Allen elaborates.
Innocence?!
That only confuses him further. His eyes widen, outright staring now. He understands Allen's quirk even less than the creatures of Trench. Thankfully, he didn't need to understand that angelic-like monster from his world to fight it. And with no idea when the shadows would attack next, Shouto double downs on the information he needs and sets aside the questions that won't help him fight it, for now. What matters right now is protecting Allen, even if he stiffens at the faint touch of his shoulder.
That too he ignores. ]
How do we fight it?
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Shouto's tension when he brushes against him makes Allen glance over for a moment, concerned, cementing it further that somehow, you're actually Shouto, but he passes it off as both their guards being high. He chews on his lip for a moment as he considers his question though, because what a good question. One with a very depressing reality. ]
We can't. [ He admits it softly actually, soberly. ]
Other Innocence like mine can't do anything against it because it can just control it. I can't control it even now... and nothing else seems to phase it for long. [ His human fingers flex lightly against what should have been his bicep in the the angry roiling sea of mutated feather and flesh that is his left arm that hangs limp like a broken wing, and he offers Shouto a sad and rueful little smile. Apologetic.
Sorry for bringing you into this. ]
In this dream I can only run from it, but it always knows where I am.
[ One guess as to how. ]
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[ He makes a half-choked sound, relief flooding him instantly. This wasn’t Allen. It was a dream. A figment of his imagination projecting his worries. His shoulders slump in relief, turning his back on the forest to look at Allen who looked so real. ]
I thought you were real.
[ He runs a hand through his hair messing up the colors, relief obvious in his features. ]
You scared me.
[ Him. Allen, not the shadows chasing them.
He doesn’t muse on that long before looking up at the night sky and the dark forest ahead. ]
I never had a nightmare like this.
1/2
For a moment Allen just gawks, staring at him like he's the one who's grown a second head now. Hearing that made you... relieved? ]
...
2/2
I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. [ His voice lowers a notch, softer. Less on edge; less like a scared and hunted rabbit. ]
I don't know how you're here too... but I feel better now that you are.
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You didn’t.
[ He steps forward, brushing his hair behind his ear in a delicate manner. He lets his fingers linger on the side of his face, reluctant to let go of something precious he just uncovered. ]
I think I did that to myself.
[ He smiles gently, serene in a way he hasn’t felt in a while. ]
Thank you for making me realize that I still have a lot to work on.
[ A smile that slowly fades at the odd turn of phrase. ]
Wouldn’t it be odd if I was’t in my own dream?
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What was it exactly that scared you then?
It's distracting enough, trying to sus that out, that he barely focuses on the question at first. Allen shakes his head lightly, blinking as that other possibility occurs to him for the first time. ]
Why would you be dreaming about my Innocence?
[ "Allen."
It's a deep, smooth voice that interrupts them. Rumbling and something that should be reassuring under any other context. It echoes both all around them and nowhere at all; inside their heads yet ringing inside their ears.
"There's no escape for you, Allen."
Allen who stiffens immediately, tense as he whips about to see where the voice is coming from, where that figure is. There's nothing though, no one in sight. Just the whispering of his own Innocence whose writhing intensifies like a living creature in pain, and the voice that surrounds them,
"Crown Clown wants this too." ]
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[ Of course, what else was there to it? Then a vast voice seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere at once, wipes the last illusion that he might know what was going on.
There's no misunderstanding the intent behind those words, and as quickly as he'd relaxed, he stiffens for a whole different reason. ]
Allen. [ He remembers the monsters from his dreams. The ones they fought under the light of the moon. ] Is this... your nightmare?
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It isn't the first time I've had it. [ He says it softly, keeping eye contact as he knows such a thing is a loaded statement, but with the situation it's hard to tell if he's uneasy from feeling like stalked prey -- or uneasy to admit such a thing. ]
It's just the first time it's ever gone like this.
[ "What are you afraid of, Allen?"
It interrupts again, smooth and conversational. The warm and rumbling tones of a priest taking confession, soothing the soul so he might coax out the ugly truths. There's the snap of twigs breaking in the underbrush out of sight, like wolves circling in the dark, and Allen's posture is tight enough to nearly snap as he watches for a sign, any sign.
"Is it... becoming a monster again?" ]
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I thought you could see corruption.
[ It's less of an accusation, and more of a demand for answers, though there's a bit of hurt behind his eyes that he hadn't told him he'd lost that power. He would have made him eat the anti-corruption jams he made every morning. How long had the corruption been eating at his mind and Shouto, sleeping by his side every night, with no idea he was suffering?
The thing entrenched in his mind and the things he says don't matter to him as much as what Allen has to say. He ignores it and looks to Allen, trying to remember how they fought it the last time. Then remembers the moonlight. In one quick movement, he grabs his hand as a platform of ice forms beneath them both, ready to take off at a moment's notice. ]
Where's the moon?!
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Which, it hadn't. ]
I can see it. After a certain point. [ It's a mildly stung huff, but his mind is already processing that possibility and turning it over. Could it be corruption? Maybe. But then, he'd been prone to nightmares like this in his previous life too. That's just part of nightmares, and there's no lingering effect when he wakes up after beyond a racing heart. But then, how is Shouto here now in this one, and how does it seem even more real?
It's definitely more than just a nightmare this time though.
Being pulled up suddenly by the hand startles him from those thoughts however, though maybe not so much as that very on-point observation that Shouto makes. Allen wants to kick himself slightly the moment he realizes it too, almost like he had been blind to the idea until someone else pointed it out. ]
The moon? I don't know, I never noticed-- [ He takes his hand, eyes heavenward as he tries to make out any sign it might be there even in hiding. The canopy overhead is thick though, hard to make out anything more than occasional stars. Stupid, that seems so obvious now. But the voice in the dark lets out an interested hum, low and unperturbed.
"Where indeed?" ]
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The ice pierces through the trees. Soon, they're back atop the canopy. Only this time, he's not running, but searching for moonlight bright enough to drown out the stars. ]
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Not a tale of corruption and salvation, the tale he always told and wanted it to be, but the search for and the acceptance of identity. The good and the bad of it. The truth within.
So there's no moon in the sky. But, as if waiting on them, there is the tall figure of the priest. Floating on the air like one who can walk without consequence of gravity, he adjusts his glasses as they ascend and spreads his arms wide. As if welcoming them, and from his back spread brilliant glowing white wings. Like those of an archangel, utterly beautiful and terrible, and spanning more than twenty feet—and the same as the ones Allen's Innocence shifted into when he took his violent last stand against Dabi's beast form. He hangs in the air like the moon itself and welcomes them up, pleased.
"Good."
The living Innocence smiles, and it isn't a reassuring sight. His face is half burnt off by Shouto's flame from earlier, but the flesh is charred and peeling back like it's trying to reveal a second, true skin beneath that glows with the same light as its wings. The same light as Allen's Crown Clown.
"Come to me." ]
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Allen... he doesn't know much about Allen and his world. A vague notion of a conservative world where appearance marked the start of intolerance. It's a world Shouto would never want to live in. A world where corruption was front and center instead of hiding in the background in fear of being torn out.
Allen... he doesn't know much about Allen. Not his struggles, aside from being hunted by the people who were supposed to be his friends. The people he lost like the General he worked under. His father. Tales brought up here and there that, without understanding his world in full, Shouto would never understand.
Innocence. He tries to remember what he once told him about it. A living quirk, a power, free to do what it wanted, like Dark Shadow. He remembers how Tokoyami was frightened of his quirk initially, begging him and Bakugou to take him down with their fire to calm him down during the attack at camp. Was this the same thing? Did Allen need him to calm it down with force? What had he said about it? Living Innocence not like his. His... was that his cloak? Crown Clown?
Shouto makes no show of disappointment in finding a moonless night. He discards that plan as soon as he finds the sky abandoned by the light and steps in front of Allen again, hiding him from view with his larger frame. The voice does not disturb him, but the peeling skin, burnt from his quirk, does.
It wasn't a person or an animal. He reassures himself, his face a well-worn mask, empty of any emotion, say for focus and determination. It takes him a few moments to realize what's in front of him.
I burned it.
That's all he needs. He doesn't wait for Allen's answer or its rebuttal. ]
Focus. [ Endeavor had taught him. ] Compress. [ His left-hand at his side turns into a glowing fist. ] And release.
[ He attacks, sending a concentrated blaze at the thing before it finishes its transformation. ]
I'm not going to wait idly by for you.
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He burnt it, yes. He burnt its meat suit away and revealed the truth of it, and it leers as a being wholly pleased by that. Hanging like the moon itself in the sky now, though it carries none of its gentle nature.
You think this is a fight that can be won head on. ]
Shouto! [ A warning shout from Allen, gripping his arm urgently as he steps around in front of him with tightly laced panic. Please listen, attacks like that can't do anything against it. ]
You can't fight it. We have to get away somewhere and regrou—
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He can't finish, because in the blink of the eye the Apocryphos goes from hovering in the air above them, and then it's right up in their faces. Fast, impossibly fast, and impossibly strong as well. Larger in frame than the both of them even without accounting for its wings.
Inhuman in every sense.
Seizing and hoisting Allen aloft by the throat and caving his windpipe with a single squeeze so no sound escapes and the strength bleeds from him, it punches with the other hand at Shouto. Vicious and with deadly and monstrous strength that could punch through stone and send a grown man ragdolling. ]
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His eyes widen at the discovery, head snapping to Allen for confirmation, and there on his flesh, he bore the same crystal, blue instead of gold. The fire aimed at the creature instantly veers off at the last second and Shouto turns on Allen. ]
You said it wasn't human?!
[ It's an accusation. What other conclusion can he come to when there were people in his world who looked like that?! Who shed their human appearance at full power, who were born looking no more human than the creature before them.
The same speed. The same heartless soul of a villain. It's there before Shouto can say another word, looking human in every sense that matters. Intelligence. Self-awareness. Even the careless way he grabs at Allen with purpose. He shouts, hears the piercing snap of Allen's windpipe, and screams. Shards of ice go flying at the creature even as his limbs go weak at the realization of what happened before him. Again. In an instant, his quirk explodes inside him in an inferno of fire. That same hand cuts off the scream, delivering the same fatal blow before Shouto erupts and the fire dies in a violent rattle of crushed windpipe. ]
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. ]
2/2
Sitting bolt upright in a cold sweat, he whips around in a panic as he looks for the Apocryphos?? For Shouto?? And just finds...
...their bed?
Home. Perfectly normal and quiet, like waking from a bad dream. It even smells exactly how it should. The whisper of the stream swollen with spring rains is the same soothing white noise it was when they fell asleep. It's almost uncanny, and the panic still feels too real for it to feel real yet. ...But there's no Timcanpy in sight. No Kizu. And, though he hasn't noticed it yet... his left arm is entirely missing below the bicep, pajama sleeve hanging empty.
Except Allen barely processes any of it and twists immediately to who should be beside him in a surge of sudden, even greater panic. ]
Shouto?! Shouto!
no subject
As his subconscious bleeds through the dream, a babble of words he has no context for seeps into his mind as his consciousness is swept into another iteration. This time, it's a familiar mattress atop a reading nook. He faded before Allen did, so when he hears him, he tries to respond but finds it impossible to move. To speak. With his eyes shut closed, ice starts to form at the corner of his lashes, desperately wanting to move but unable.
In the dark, Allen calls to him, his voice growing louder and louder and louder until he can't stand it and burns inside, melting the ice at his lashes and a taunt wire that was keeping him afloat in the dark. Shouto wakes with a start, hand going to his throat as he grasp for breath. He tries to speak, but no words come out, not that it matters, the moment he sees Allen he throws his arms around him, tears welling up at the corner of his eyes, falling solemnly down his cheeks as he holds him with trembling arms; never making a sound. ]
no subject
Almost melting from the crushing relief that he's there and alive, Allen presses into the embrace and tries to return it in kind, not understanding for a moment why he can only feel him with a single arm. He barely gives it a passing thought though, focused instead on the dampness pressed against his own face. You're crying--
Then... that means... you really were there. ]
Shouto-- [ He gasps softly, voice a little raspy from the phantom sensation of having his throat crushed even if no damage remains, and the tears flow freely down Allen's face too. ]
Shouto, I'm sorry. [ His voice twists with a note of anguish, squeezing him tighter for a moment. For so much. But why aren't you saying anything?
Allen pulls back just enough so he can look at him, touch their noses together, and bring his hands up to touch his face with a fretful, loving concern. Trying to wipe the tears away, but... he only has the one hand. The gesture feels lopsided. ]
Are you alright?
no subject
He sobs into his shoulder, holding onto him with all of his strength, so terribly frightened of that crushing sound that felt too much like the day he lost him almost a year ago.
I thought you died!
He trembles, gasping for air between sobs, as his heart keeps up with the elements clashing inside. He holds him tightly, tries to wrap his arms around him only something is off. Only then, does he realize what had felt so odd when he first threw himself at Allen. He gasps, a sharp and half-choked sound.
Allen!
Shock crosses his features as he tries and fails to say his name. He grabs at his shoulder instead, where his entire arm is missing. Am agitated look quickly replaces the shock. A horse sound that sounds more like wheezing comes out, as he taps frantically at his shoulder where his arm is missing.
What happened to your arm?!
Tap, tap, tap! ]
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