deercountry | And even though she's dreaming

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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...?

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[ Shouto's conclusion gets a brief, uneasy look for Allen before he gives a lightly tense sort of nod. ]

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?" ]

[ Then, that shadowed figure... it was the same monster that haunted him? But then... he looks at Allen, no longer pretending he's okay with any of this. ]

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?!

Edited 2023-05-07 00:42 (UTC)

[ Corruption? The tone sets him a little back on heel, but Allen blinks almost a bit comically as if that hadn't even occurred to him.

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?" ]

Edited 2023-05-07 01:19 (UTC)

[ Ignoring the voice, as only someone like him can, he shoots up into the air. He's not a man of many words, but he is a man of action. Given that Allen has no answer, Shouto aims to find one.

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. ]

[ Except that there's no answer to be found in the landscape. No hint of a castle to storm, no villain to vanquish. Allen's battles are never like that, after all. Never black and white or even that obvious, or of overcoming something with might. It'd be easy, otherwise. It'd be the tale of the knight and the dragon, some storybook tale of good overcoming evil that's pleasing to the soul but woefully out of touch with reality.

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." ]

Edited 2023-05-07 15:02 (UTC)

[ It's a similar tale to the one revealed to the whole world by his brother. One where there is no right or wrong answer, only how much you're capable of forgiving and accepting. The reality of life where everything is painted in shades of grey. Where you too much choose the shade you can live with. Shouto chose his. Choosing to forgive his father and accept his patronage but not his love. He chose to forgive himself and not live a life of repentance but a full and loving one. He chose to accept his brother as he is not as he wished him to be, and the laws of his world he would have to maneuver to do so.

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.

Edited 2023-05-07 19:28 (UTC)

[ The living Innocence sees Shouto prepare his attack but doesn't seem to care or worry at all about it. It takes the hit full on, lighting up like a winged human torch wherever there's flesh or cloth. No screams, no sound of pain, not even a flinch. A veritable brick wall of pure, lunar light given humanoid form as the flame and smoke part to reveal what lay beneath the skin suit it wore. Monstrous with bulging red bloodshot eyes and a snub face, entirely hairless and whose flesh is made of luminous white material -- of Innocence that glows the same as Allen's -- that seems to crack in places like old marble. The star-like formation of crystal within its chest identical to the one that Allen has embedded into his left hand: save that the creature's is pale gold, and Allen's is pale blue.

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—

Edited 2023-05-07 20:48 (UTC)

[ Oh.

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. ]

[ Monstrous is not the word he would choose having been born in a superpowered world with mutants who inherited all types of physical alterations. The figure he transforms into looks like nothing more than someone's quirk. At full power, Tetsutetsu was an entirely hairless figure whose flesh was glowing red metal when Shouto tried to burn him up during their fight. The only thing even remotely scary about the creature was the star-like crystal embedded into his left hand that matched the same one as Allen's.

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. ]

Edited 2023-05-07 21:48 (UTC)

[ 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 --

And then the world goes dark. ]

[ And in the next, he awakes with a start.

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!

[ There are only humans. Those who are kind and generous, and those who are rotting inside. Heroes protect regular people from the latter. The ones who kill casually without remorse. Villains, not monsters. Monsters are what populate fairy tales that people use to scare others into behaving a certain way. Monsters aren't real. Only humans. And humans populate the entire spectrum. From kind-hearted neighbors to cold-hearted drug dealers who casually kill with inherited quirks. Who want to destroy a society they don't believe in. It's humans who are both heroes and villains. Angels and demons. His brother, who killed over a dozen people, who killed Allen, is still human. Not a kind one, but still human and deserving of the kind of consideration that made all heroes hold back. Who Shouto emulated, always attacking with restraint, a restraint he didn't show the creature in his first two attacks, believing in Allen.

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. ]

Edited 2023-05-07 23:13 (UTC)

[ Thank goodness--

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?

[ I thought you were gone.

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! ]

Edited 2023-05-07 23:59 (UTC)

[ He thought you died. Saw you die, and it's worse than any other nightmare he can recall. The intensity of Shouto's grief has Allen shaking like a leaf as he reigns his own wildly swinging emotions in to try and soothe him, fingers carding through his hair and trying to nuzzle at the side of his face. It's alright, he's here. We're both here.

But why aren't you saying anything yet?

Anxiety rising as a familiar dread starts to settle in the pit of his stomach again, he stares between Shouto and where he's tapping at his left shoulder. Where the sleeve hangs empty beneath the bicep and his stomach churns. Horror dawning even if -- he knew, the moment he woke, the moment he went to hug Shouto... he knew at the periphery of his mind, but his mouth still goes dry as cotton. Heart rate picks up, hammering wildly. An internal scream of panic that becomes white noise as his eyes constrict to pinpoints--

No. He can't dwell on that right now. Not when you're like this.

Allen shakes his head quickly in the negative, almost violently as he scatters his own thoughts, shuddering, and reaches towards Shouto's neck. Stopping short of touching him though, hesitant, afraid he'll hurt him when he doesn't know what's wrong. ]

Why can't you talk? [ Gingerly, he touches his throat then. Very gently, trying to inspect him to see if he was hurt. His fingers are a little shaky. ]

Does your throat hurt?

Edited 2023-05-08 00:28 (UTC)

[ He tries to hold back his agitation, waiting for Allen to respond. To tell him that he used Crown Clown to fight the creature and got them to safety, but the look of horror dawning on his face tells a different story.

Allen! What happened to your arm?!

Valiantly, he tries to push out the words, and a mangled sound comes out. When Allen inspects his throat, he'll find bruising where the creature had broken his windpipe, nothing more. His throat is miraculously healed just like ALlen, which does little to explain his inability to speak. Frustrated with himself, he taps at Allen's shoulder, insistent.

Where's your arm?! That's more important!

Then a thought strikes him, and he sucks in a breath, pulling away from Allen suddenly to search the room for shadows.

Is it here?!

His breath is the only sound that comes out as he looks at Allen, panicked and pointing frantically at the room. It doesn't take long for Shouto to become frustrated with his inability to articulate his thoughts. Thankfully, he spots a pile of jam labels he bought in preparation for the jam-making session he was planning for Mid-May.

Grabbing one of the labels, he quickly writes down a message and turns it around to show Allen. Neatly written in Romanji is the question:

Where is the shadow creature?]

Edited 2023-05-08 01:09 (UTC)

[ Stop ignoring him and answer the question at least with a yes or no shake of the head!!! Not that Allen's really... doing much better...

Seeing the bruises though-- what little color he has drains from Allen's face. But he never saw Shouto get hit there? He was the one who Apocryphos had grabbed by the throat. So why do you bear his wounds...

Mouth too dry to say anything, he can only stare for a moment at those dark marks before Shouto moves to get the piece of paper. Frozen, and looking a little numb as he presents him with the note, which to him seems to be in almost artful, perfectly printed English. He's slow to respond, but finally shakes his head after a moment. ]

There isn't any shadow creature... [ There never was, though... Allen sounds distracted, and he looks around the room uneasily too, the empty feeling where his arm should be making his heart continue to race. Were they really escaped from the nightmare...?

There isn't anything else there though, of course. Just their house, nothing ominous. The teacups from earlier that night still on the table nearby. Cozy and inviting, what would have made it so easy to pass the whole experience off as a deeply unsettling nightmare if not for the lingering proof on their bodies.

If they were actually even awake? ]

It shouldn't be able to-- [ He starts, digging his fingers for a moment into the empty fabric of his sleeve. Breath catching as he's breathing a little too fast. ]

I don't understand...

[ The name doesn't matter. They both know who he's talking about. Shouto quickly jots down another question, turning it around almost instantly.

Where is your arm?

He taps at the word 'arm' several times to get his point across. ]

[ He's looking at it, "arm," as Shouto taps repeatedly at it. With a rising kind of paralyzing terror he's trying so hard to keep reigned in but is getting the best of him the more he stares at that word. His arm--

Without a word, he reaches with his human hand and rips the shirt from his shoulder. Buttons popping at the force, it reveals his left shoulder now devoid of the red tattoo-like markings that once were there. And his arm, seemingly amputated at the bicep but not cleanly or in a way that seems normal for flesh or human biology. It seems socketed, the skin hardened and almost stonelike at the edges, and waiting for his rest of his arm to be attached.

Allen breathes out, his arm shaking. Borderline on hyperventilating. ]

Gone.

[ It matters, more than his inability to speak, than the pain of believing he had died, if only for a few moments while he kept consciousness before the dark swallowed him. It matters because it’s his quirk. The source of his power. He knows what it feels like to lose his quirk in a nightmare. This nightmare, Allen’s nightmare was playing out the same and just like Shouto had relied on Allen, he needed to know if this time, Allen needed to rely on him. That’s why he was insistent. Why he needed to verify that he wasn’t reading the situation wrong and it was something simple he didn’t understand. That, too, happened a lot when it came to Allen and his powers. Usually it didn’t bother him, but this was different. He’d died. Thought, he’d died and this time he wasn’t going to let it go. To wait for him to tell him at his own pace. This time, he needed that information to keep him safe, and he wasn’t the type to sit idly by. He was taught better. Knew it was dangerous to go into a situation without knowing key facts.

It may have helped if he had a better bedside manner. Maybe eased Allen into the question, but that wasn’t who he was. Direct and to the point was how he operated. Usually, his willingness to accept vague answers kept them from clashing up until now, but this time, Shouto wasn’t willing to bend. This time it didn’t affect just him.

The sound of fabric ripping is an answer in itself. The borderline devastated look on Allen’s face, confirms his suspicions. He didn’t know anymore than shim. His quirk was gone, stolen. And they were trapped in a nightmare of his own creation.

Shouto is off the bed in less than a second, wrapping his arms around him, and squeezing him tight to convey the words he can’t force out.

We’ll get it back.

He silently promises, kissing the side of his head fervently and rubs his back in a soothing manner.

We’ll get it back.

Pulls him into his arms to hide him from the world just for a few moments. Kissing his cheek, his ear, all the while holding him close arms tightly wound around him. ]

Edited 2023-05-08 21:22 (UTC)

[ There's very little that can truly rattle Allen's composure past the point where he can put on a front. Even when he feels terror or rage, he's near always able to push that down to put a calm demeanor or a smile on, to pretend everything is -- or at least will be -- okay.

This is an exception. Losing control over or the loss of his Innocence has always been an exception. Perhaps worse now, because he has lost it before. And while that time was because of an enemy destroying it and rending it from his body... this time it was to a background fear he's had for a long, long time now. Since he first learned of Apocryphos and its intentions for him.

Losing it to, essentially, itself. Its supposed true nature.

So he's almost entirely disassociated by the time Shouto pulls him into the embrace, breath coming in quick puffs and eyes wide and unseeing. He barely even seems to realize that he's being held at first, stiff in his arms, until the urgent but reassuring kisses begin to register and Allen yields. Taking a great, shuddering breath as his arm comes up and he grips onto his back too, sagging into the embrace with a threadbare relief. Burying his nose into Shouto's collar and breathing in the sense of warmth and security: of home. I wish I could talk with you. His breaths take a moment to even out, but they do as he starts to get a handle on his nerves. He touches the back of Shouto's head gently, fingers sliding through the strands of red and white.

Thank you. ]

It isn't... the first time. [ With a final shaky exhale, Allen reluctantly pulls back slightly so they can face each other, even if his eyes stay trained somewhere around his Shouto's collarbone. ]

Although the circumstances are really different.

[ His lips move to make a promise he can’t utter, and quickly grows frustrated by his own silence and ends up kissing him his cheek instead.

Allen. Stay with me.

He pulls back to capture his face in his hands looking at him with an intensity he can’t convey.

You’re okay.

He holds his face steadfastly, fingers grip him with a quiet intensity that draws a blood from the metal backing of Allen’s earring.

I’ve got you.

He mouths slowly, willing him to understand, as blood calls to blood, sending his thoughts through the bloodstone that echoes his words through an untested bond forged by his utter determination to be heard. ]

You’re not alone.

Edited 2023-05-08 23:46 (UTC)

[ Watching Shouto struggle to convey himself to him is hard, knowing it's somehow tied to the injury Allen took, and makes his heart twist painfully. Looking up finally when he kisses his cheek and meeting his eyes as he cups his face, Allen's expression becomes gentle. Touched.

He brings his hand up to touch his lips very gently then, like the blind tracing letters as Shouto mouths the words he wants to speak. Allen smiles gently then finally, if a little sadly, but peaceably. It's alright. I understand what you mean. Fundamentally, at least. A kiss, a touch, the look in the eye-- sometimes those can convey more than even words can, you know?

It's why it's only a little surprising when he feels the small tingle in his ear where the bloodstone band is, something not entirely unfamiliar as he's felt a sense of power and connection from it before. Felt what seemed like a phantom sense of emotions not his own, and the reassuring and steady presence that Shouto exudes. It's a comforting if curious thing when he's reflected on it later, trying to figure out the reason for it, and even more reason why he never takes it off. He said the point of them exchanging earrings was to feel always connected, right? Together and reminded of the other even when apart. That it's literal -- Allen had no idea, but it touches a part of his heart in a odd, but very poignant sort of way.

That said.

He is entirely shocked to hear Shouto's voice echo within his own thoughts as real and present as if he'd spoken aloud. O-oh. Oh! ]

I heard you!

[ Always connected by a power forged in stone by his patron. A gift. One he traded for a treasure far more valuable to him. His mouth slow in its movements, allowing Allen to trace the words from his lips. So, when Allen starts, understanding him finally, Shouto renews his efforts not realizing the distinction between 'heard' and 'understood'.

Slightly amazed that he understood him, Shouto renews his efforts, mouthing his words even slower. We'll get it back. He mouths slowly, concentrating on his actions as he grips him firmly on either side of his head, ignoring the sting on his index finger. ]

We'll get it back.

[ Not just that it was a gift from his patron, but the power of his own blood -- and Allen's too. Not that Allen understands such things, but there is absolutely power in blood, and in giving that to someone else. Exchanging and wearing a set of each other's like they had -- unwittingly, that too is a type of bond with its own power.

Allen, however, looks awestruck as he hears him yet again. Was it because he was touching his lips??? No, no, that'd be silly... ]

...Right. [ Blinking, he stares slightly for a moment as he's still hung up on how he's hearing him more than what he's saying. Amazing... ]

Right, we will.

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