⛧ Aʟʟᴇɴ "ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴘʀɪᴇsᴛ" Wᴀʟᴋᴇʀ ★ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
likethelight) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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...?
no subject
But Allen gets a little quiet at that question, eyes dropping down somewhere between them as he seems deep in thought. A little uneasy, a little fidgety, and there's a guilty sort of heavyness in how his eyes hood. Debating, conflicted--
But also unsure. ]
Before, in my world... it wanted to merge with me-- with Crown Clown. [ He reaches to take another cotton pad, needing the physical distraction, needing something to help keep him grounded, and begins to dab lightly at blood stemming from a nick on Shouto's neck. ]
Doing so would destroy the other thing inside of me it said. It would destroy Nea.
[ He says it so softly, so openly, that it masks the sheer dread and panic that batters around in his chest to mention that name out loud around Shouto. One calm sliver away from panic. ]
But it's also what killed my master. [ His tone hardens, stern as he dabs at the blood with a sense of conviction instead of hesitation. ] And Timcanpy. And a friend of mine, who tried to help me escape even if it meant giving up everything he'd believed in.
[ So I absolutely will never merge with that thing is left unsaid, but the disgust and resolution is written on his face and in his tone. A bluntness in how he speaks that he doesn't normally have. Anger and conviction, frustration, grief, but ones that have long hardened and had time to form into a sense of purpose. And to keep fighting at all costs.
Mostly because he's never had the luxury of being able to let himself break down and feel them all in their fullest, and resists that at his core. It's a survival reflex. A necessity of his world. ]
But I don't know. This time, in this place... it's different. [ Voice softening again, he pulls back. Letting the cotton pad drop into Shouto's hand the moment he opens it to incinerate it, but Allen's expression is a little lost again then. ]
This time, Nea is already gone.
no subject
Why do you look like that?
Concern bleeds through the bond in tumultuous waves. The last time Allen spoke of his Innocence in-depth, they were trapped in a cursed book that gave him a taste of his world. Is it hard for you to talk about? Is that why you won't look at me? He regards him in silence, feeling completely out of his depth, yet it's this familiar constant that grounds him. He listens in silence, letting him speak without interruption, adding what he says to what he already knows about his Innocence. ]
This isn't the first time we've faced a nightmare together. Or the first time you've spoken about your Innocence. Or Nea. I met him, remember? [ He eyes him quietly, giving Allen time to recall that incident, while he delicately touches his cheek, tracing a trail up his jawline. ] I know he's a part of you... was a part of you.
[ He reminds him, letting his index finger skim over the white stone of his earring, strengthening the bond momentarily, filling it with a deep sense of acceptance that's gone the moment the contact is lost. ]
The priest in the woods. That was Living Innocence. [ He tries to put together what he knows to figure out what he's missing. ] You said, before, that it can take human form. That it wants to merge with your Innocence. Is that why it chased you in the woods?
[ To merge with it? That makes sense. ]
If it gets what it wants, it'll destroy Nea, right? The 'other thing inside you'? [ He looks at him. Bit by bit, the puzzle pieces begin to form a picture. ] A Noah. The other faction that wants to annihilate humanity.
Nea didn't like Innocence. He said, "Opposites aren't meant to mix". If that was true, why did he, a Noah, choose you, who was born with Innocence?
no subject
But "opposites aren't meant to mix" — it's the first time Allen's heard it and it registers in the surprise on Allen's face. His chin jerks up lightly, blinking, and at first he doesn't answer. Not for coaching any answer, but... ]
I don't know. [ He bites his lip lightly, expression transparent and briefly fragile, but shakes his head then. ]
Master said it was probably a matter of convenience. That it was because I happened to be there.
[ Allen leans forward then, red and white hair meshing together as he lets his forehead press against Shouto's. Troubled still maybe, but calm too, and focusing instead on forging that gentle but strong sense of connection. Craning into it as he reaches for his hand.
Sorry. I wish I had better answers. ]
But I don't know.
no subject
Allen. He could have taken over anyone else, yet he chose you. Someone he can't easily take over.
[ His fingers touch his bottom lip lightly. ]
You're not a convenience.