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deercountry2023-05-05 06:28 pm
likethelight) wrote in deercountry2023-05-05 06:28 pm
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...?
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It's warm and feels like you.
[ He lets his hand drop, back straightening with a renewed kind of purpose. ]
However it is, I'm glad.
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[ He thinks, wondering why Allen would feel like that to him. ]
It doesn't feel like you.
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He blinks, both startling and becoming a little still at that. ]
Dark?
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He relaxes a little at that, although he's not entirely sure, but gives a tentative nod. He tries to focus on the feeling as well, on Shouto's voice and that faint sense. ]
It's faint.
But, it's still you.
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It still feels like you.
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This isn't going to be as easy as just finding my Innocence again I don't think.
[ But he doesn't say it like one discouraged. ]
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[ What lay ahead of them had always been a mystery, but he was willing to walk in the dark beside him, believing there would be light on the other side. ]
I have faith in you.
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Allen blinks, staring at him for a moment at being called out on being anything but easy... and laughs softly then. ]
Ouch. [ But he says it with a weak, sheepish little laugh, not actually stung even if maybe a little guilty at the call-out, and leans in to squeeze Shouto's hand tight. And Allen smiles, expression softening as he looks up at him affectionately and with genuine love.
I have faith in you. Even for Shouto who's said he loves him too, saying something like that, having faith in him even when things are ugly and messy... It means something so very special.
Who ever truly had faith in him before? Was it just Johnny? He wanted Lenalee to, but could he have ever dared hope she actually did? ]
Let's go then. [ He says it softly, with promise, and steps towards the door. It slides opens and they step through-- ]
2/2
A forest again, but this one is comprised entirely of old bamboo. Old leaves cover the ground, and in front of them they're soaked and darkened by a puddle of blood. Like someone had bled out, but there's no body. Snow falls, melting red at the edges of the kill site, and only just barely beginning to collect without melting where it isn't. But even there it begins to form as pink cover, and where it falls on them before melting to stain their clothing lightly pink. A blood snow.
And above, the moon is full and looming so very close. A deep red, blood moon. ]
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It doesn't matter to him what lies ahead or what promises Allen makes. It was never what he said that made him fall in love with him, but the sound of his soul in harmony with his. So, as they step through the door into an old forest covered in blood, Shouto isn't afraid because here is where he wants to be, and this time, he won't let anyone tell him they inhabit a different world and take him away.
Red stains this world, melting the snow that drips onto their clothes. His grip tightens on Allen's hand, and he steps closer till their shoulders touch, before looking up at the sky where a blood moon hangs among the stars. ]
We found it.
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It's so much easier to laugh then, and smile and take someone's hand. Because that is what is beautiful.
Allen stares wordlessly for a long moment at the scene as the world shifts around them into focus though, and the door behind them disappears. With recognition, like someone who's seen a ghost, though he is quick to shake it and looks up at the moon above. It seems larger than any moon should, looming in a way that seems to subtly be getting closer, like an omen. They found it, yes, but is it necessarily a good thing?
He recognizes this moon.
But his attention falls back on the dark bloodstain on the forest floor, and there is a strange and heavy kind of poignancy to it. A slight twitch of his left shoulder and the stump of his arm. He looks briefly at Shouto then, gentle and somber. Almost as if checking something about him, debating something, before he turns back. He squeezes his hand lightly, returning and affirming the sentiment. ]
I've been here before.
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He gravitates to him now, his familiar scent overpowering the scent of blood in the air. This close, he can see the silent debate in his eyes before he comes to a decision and squeezes his hand. Shouto squeezes back, not pressing for an answer, but waiting for what he has to say. When it comes, it's not what he expected, a sentiment that's clear in the way his fingers tighten on his and the furrow in his brows. ]
... What is this place?
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Blood, for Allen, is also something he has long been used to the smell of. Even if he hates it. Blood, oil, and ash. ]
I died here.
[ He says it so very simply, directed towards the stain on the ground. So quietly, like it isn't a bombshell, but he threads his fingers gently with Shouto's. A preemptive anchoring gesture, before he looks up again at the moon. ]
This is where my Innocence was destroyed, before it became Crown Clown.
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[ A noise at the back of his throat gets tangled up with a sharp intake of breath that sounds more like a wheezing sound, pathetic and urgent all at once. Again, he tries to force out words stuck in his throat, but his voice has been stolen, and even if it hadn't no words could ever convey the agony of hearing that confession from someone who once died in his arms.
Blood. So much blood. Was this his blood?! He looks to Allen looking devastated at the image conjured up in his mind of a body growing cold in his arms. The heat of blue flames entangled with his own, turning him to ash. His throat tightens at the memory and he engulfs Allen in a one-armed hug, refusing to let go of his hand. He clings to it just like he clings to Allen afraid to let go and watch him crumble to ash. ]
Wat
[ Eyes squeezed shut, holding onto him beneath the blood moon, he pushes past the nightmare holding him back, sounding more like a croak than a question. ]
hapined?
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Shouto...
[ He says it softly, both surprise at the sudden hug he's swept into, the strength of Shouto's reaction that pushes words out of even his damaged throat, and a gentle lament at it. He tries to bring his hand up to cup his face before he realizes it... isn't there and he doesn't want to let go of Shouto's hand with his other. It's distressingly frustrating for a moment before he lets it go and kisses his cheek instead very softly. Quietly, with a somber kind of dignity about him, and he kisses his cheek a second time then with how devastated he seems.
It's alright.
It doesn't smell like blood then: it smells like Shouto. A little peppery and like fire from the use of his power earlier, but with the soothing ever-present note of green tea underneath. The next few snowflakes that fall and catch on their hair, they're white. And Allen opens his eyes to try and look into Shouto's if he'll open them, lifting their joined hands up so he can press his hand gently to his cheek and encourage him to touch it.
I'm still here. ]
I got separated and caught off-guard after I had pushed my invocation too far. [ He's speaking as softly as he can still, trying to ease the distress of it as he noses gently at him in reminder that he's here; he's alive. I didn't want to tell you this ever, but I think I have to if we're going to get past this. ] I couldn't fight anymore, so...
[ His smile stretches a bit thin then, becoming wan as his brows knit in a conflicted way as Allen struggles to find the least damaging way to say it, and shrugs very lightly. ]
He was someone who could destroy Innocence with a touch. That was the difference in power between us. So he did that to my arm and left me here then to bleed out from a hole in my heart.
[ It is the most painfully sanitized way of saying his arm was brutally wrenched off before he was made to watch it get turned to ash and then had a carnivorous insect pushed inside his chest to chew. But those are details that even beyond the fact he'd never tell any loved one something so needlessly distressing, Allen... is haunted by them himself still.
And there's no sign of a struggle here, nothing to suggest a fight. The leaves are barely scuffed and none of the bamboo has been broken. Whatever happened here was silent and lonely -- and utterly one-sided. ]
But it wasn't fully destroyed, even if it was supposed to be. It became a part of my heart and brought me back. [ And he hesitates, looking around again even as he stays in Shouto's loose embrace. ]
I think... that has to mean something now.
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He shakes, unable to compartmentalize that Allen from his one, and the loss he once felt hits him full force. Tears rim the corner of his eyes, gathering on his lashes; one freezes, and the other melts. No soothing touches or kisses will make it right. The idea that Allen was no longer in another world leaves him devasted, and clinging to him in this one.
He hiccups, shoulders jerking unpredictably, as he tries to rein himself in to listen to a tale he never wanted to hear, but desperately needs to know. He clings to him the way he once clung to his mother, quivering from heartache that he could do nothing to help her. To help him, but hold onto him tightly, afraid of letting go.
And it's in his silence, unable to speak, that he grasps the meaning of his tale, not of death but of life. His eyes shoot open, the tears flowing freely, as he realizes his mistake. ]
It saved you!
[ His voice snaps through the bond, feeling wrecked and happy all at once. If Allen thought Shouto was clingy before, it's nothing compared to the sobbing mess burrowing himself in his collar, refusing to let go. ]
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You're such a gentle-hearted person.
He stares for a moment at first, stunned and very close to regretting saying anything. Does it hurt you so much even when he's still standing right here in front of you? Allen lets his hand go so he can properly wrap his arm around him in return instead, burying his nose into Shouto's hair as he continues to hold him. To patiently let him grieve what he needs even as it leaves Allen somewhat bewildered, and just be present and an anchor. ]
It did. [ He says it very softly, stroking his back gently and soothingly. But his eyes lift up to the moon above as well, watching it with a quiet and guarded expression. This moon means death, he knows that. Or at least, it meant death to him back then. The inescapable inevitability of it came close when he lay there unable to move or do anything except bleed out. But it wasn't red, and there was no snow.
An omen for something else? ]
Shouto-- [ Attention shifting back to him, Allen kisses the side of his head and nudges gently at him in an encouraging manner. Look at me. ]
Please don't grieve so. [ He brings his hand around to cup his cheek tenderly, leaning in to try and kiss the tiny frozen droplets away, melting them with his lips and gently swiping the tears on his other cheek aside. Not trying to stop the tears, just catching them as they fall. Sweet and insistent.
You're gentle, but you're strong too. ]
I'm still here too.
[ So don't drown in it, those feelings. ]
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No, it didn't hurt.
I died here.
The same way it doesn't hurt to hear Allen speak of his end so casually while they stood in a field of blood. His blood. He didn't come from a world of blood and death. He'd never witnessed such horrors before Trench. It was always a fleeting thought, closer to home among heroes, but mostly out of sight. Allen's world isn't a world he understands how to navigate and needs time to reorient himself. Time to rein in his sorrow. As the tears fade and he pulls himself together despite the image of his death firmly branded in his mind, Shouto stills, focusing on Allen's voice that always brought him back. Knowing he was here, alive and breathing, eases some of the heartache, enough to function at least. He nods without looking up, touching upon the bond that felt like Allen on the other side. ]
I'm here too.
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Allen smiles very quietly at that, in a gentle and sad-sweet kind of way, more relieved than he could say, before he gives a nod and leans in to kiss his cheek. The corner of his mouth that he so often likes to kiss and insists isn't him "missing". Lingering in a long and meaningful kind of way where he tries to offer what comfort he can while also taking comfort himself in the way that Shouto steadies himself now. One moment to breathe and collect themselves before moving forward. It isn't fair that it's like that, but they don't have the luxury for more than that right now, and it's part of a guilt that continues to eat at him.
I'm so sorry. I never wanted you to be exposed to this. ]
Let's keep going. [ So they can escape this nightmare and go-- ]
2/2
There's a whispering noise at their feet; in the wood all around them. At first it sounds just like rustling leaves of bamboo, before the entire forest floor seems to rush up around them. Not as leaves on the wind but thousands upon thousands of black, ominous butterflies that rush up in a cloud thick as night. Like death omens themselves, and the sound doesn't come solely from their wings but from the chattering of thousands of tiny crowned skulls they have instead of thoraxes. Teeth snapping together with hisses and clacks, they sound like a rising cacophony of madness as they rise and quickly blot out the sky. Blot out even the moon.
And in the next moment they're biting them too. A dozen tiny lacerations of oddly sharp, tiny human teeth in the blink of an eye. Deep bites not even half a second later, eager not to hurt but to feast. To consume them alive. ]
Shouto-- [ Allen gasps it out, spun around to try and face the hoard seeming to come at them from all angles with first an expression of horror and recognition, and then gritting his teeth while narrowly avoiding a mouthful of carnivorous bug after his tongue. Re-orienting and steeling himself in snap judgment in the same moment as he grounds out the only word he dares: ]
Fire.
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You missed.
[ The memory of that day sparks a pang of awareness that soothes the ache in his chest. He'd remedied Allen's mistake soon after. He does the same here, turning his head to brush their lips together. He doesn't linger, his heart still in disarray. Instead, he presses their temples together, allowing himself a few moments to ease himself into functional status. ]
Thank you.
[ The words of gratitude echo through the bond, the connection stronger than ever. That's probably why he misses the rustling sound coming from the woods. In an instant, they're surrounded by a swarm of chattering teeth that deliver a thousand little bites that nip at their flesh, and in the next, a wave of ice slams against the storm, crashing against the tiny crowned skulls that blot out the moon.
In the midst of the storm, he hears Allen call his name, and he fights against the tempest, creating a barrier of ice that snaps around them, but it does nothing against the denizens already inside. If he were alone, he'd blast them with a blaze of fire, but the arm he clings to staves off that reaction until Allen calls for it.
In combat, there is no room for second guesses.
Shouto hesitates for half a second, and in the next, he encases Allen in a sheet of ice, freezing him from head to toe, before unleashing a fireball that engulfs the whole forest. ]
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Fire isn't safe for him, Allen knows that. Without his Innocence he has no way to guard against it and is entirely a normal human. But the alternative against these man-eating golems in the form of butterflies... unlike with Innocence, Shouto's flame should actually burn them. Or at least, he assumes there's a good chance they will since they always seemed delicate to him, and in his own dream of them that, thankfully, is enough.
Not that he knows that. It was absolutely a calculated gamble.
That said, Allen also wasn't expecting to be frozen solid either. Encapsulated with an almost comically alarmed expression, he can't move or do anything to free himself without his left arm as the fire explodes outward around them. Igniting those black wings like tinder before scattering the cloud in a plume of ash as the fireball rolls out and levels the delicate bamboo around them. Scorches and incinerates the old bloodstains, and cracking and beginning to melt the ice around Allen too.
But the moon doesn't return. As soon as the light of the fire fades it's dark, smothering. And then they're falling through the pitch black. Down and down through what feels into a cavern deep underground. Where below there waits a shallow lake, barely thigh-deep, that'd dotted with and surrounded by freshly broken ruins and marble pillar, like some sort of subterranean water arena or courtyard. ]
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Instincts drive him to reach for the ice first, his control of it fined tuned enough not to harm Allen in the entombment. Fire, he has to think about. Calculate. He could encase an army in ice and walk confidently among them knowing exactly how long he had before frostbite set in. Fire, on the other hand, was unforgiving. One wrong move and he could damage someone permanently. Dream or not, he would never take that chance.
Ice envelopes Allen, and the fire pacifies the horde razing the forest and melting the ice, releasing him from his tomb of ice. Shouto is there to catch him, gently warming him up while ash rains above him. ]
Allen.
[ The bond stirs back to life, carrying his name along the darkness on the other side. ]
Are you--
[ The thread snaps, snipped in two by the sharpest blade that cuts away the light sending them tumbling through the dark into a musty cavern.
Allen!
A sheet of ice forms beneath their feet, creating a platform that careens down into the unknown along with them. Instead of landing in the subterranean water, they glide above it until they come to a stop at the foot of a marble pillar. ]
What is this place?!
[ His mind once again connects with a figure hidden in the dark. ]
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He grips Shouto's arm tight as they do though, like he means to convey something more than he needs him for balance. I'm fine. An answer to the half-asked question. Breathing a little shakily as he continues to warm up and re-orients himself, it's something he thinks he merely thinks aloud to himself as he focuses on that sense of connection and tries to convey that through touch. But it rides that same tether to touch Shouto's mind, with a voice soft but steady, as the ruins reveal themselves.
It looks like perhaps there might have been a recent battle, or maybe an explosion at one point that wrecked the place. Hallways can be seen reaching back further in out of sight, the architecture appearing ancient and ornate, but not abandoned. There are more modern or at least Victorian sconces, railings, and each pillar bears the engraving of a cross on it. Four-pointed in the same manner as the crystal on the back of Allen's hand, but filled out to become a Christian cross instead -- even if this place doesn't look like a church at all. They touch down at the base of one, and Allen steps off the ice to stare at the broken arena around them, stunned and a touch apprehensive.
Shouto's voice and the alarm in it snaps him back out of it, and he shakes his head for a moment as if to clear it as he looks back at him. The wounds from the butterflies are still with them, but Allen is used to bearing such things without complaint until there's time to actually deal with them later. None of blood is flowing alarmingly fast, nothing life threatening, so it gets shelved back somewhere where he can try and shut off the pain.
It stains his clothing though. Something that had shifted from the pajamas he'd been wearing in their house after they left it to a plain off-white uniform that looks like it belongs to some form of Chinese martial art, and it's lightly tattered now from where the butterflies tore in with their thimble-sized mouths. ]
It's... the Asia branch of the Order. [ The organization he once belonged to, the Exorcists. One of the branches at least. Allen sounds uneasy though, pale eyes shifting around to take in the silence of the place in the dim light. There's nothing there of course, the water is placid.
But there is the sense of something watching back. Waiting, but not yet hostile. ]
This is where I got it back, my Innocence.
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