deercountry | [Open] 🚬 April Flames

Entry tags:

[Open] 🚬 April Flames

Who: Dabi & others
What: April Catch-All
When: Various
Where: April

Content Warnings: Scenes and mentions of domestic / child abuse, some body horor and monstrous transformations, violence, adult language, topics of patricide and fratricide

Notes: General and specific starters will be below. Contact under cut.

If you want to hit me up for ideas on prompts or plots, feel free to comment on Dabi's plotting post, hit me up on my contacts – Plurk (

StarSeed69) / Discord (StarSeed#3572) – shoot me a PM, or drop an ooc comment down below, and we’ll hash it out. I'm down to write a unique starter for our threads if you prefer.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[private people, an avoidance of the soul, not wanting anyone to get close to him beyond what he himself permits someone to. he's used to being wrapped in the shadows, ignored by society and other certain people within it, only stepping into the spotlight when he feels like. but to have someone peer directly into his soul, whether or not he actually realizes this person is looking at him that deeply, is something he wouldn't appreciate had he more conscious mindset to comprehend it. as it is, the ironic calm of that eye resting within the writhing flames is the only thing visible, the rest unconsciously protected.

no time for rest, no time for planning or thoughts, the fire punches clean through the building wall only vacated a second previously, leaving a scorching hole melted into the masonry and an exit blown out the roof at the end of that angled strike. darkened sky visible within that glowing ring of molten stone, the building quickly catches flame around it as some of the burning slag drops inside the structure and lands on a more flammable substance: wooden flooring. that's another on ready to burn. how many more buildings is this pest going to end up setting ablaze in his efforts to save his own hide?

something snaps around its wrist and the monster looks at it with a bestial grunt of surprise and annoyance, watching white twine spiral around the hardened gauntlets that spit flames one after another. before they're smothered by the material bandaging its forearm and wrist in that collective wrap. but the second one quickly gets a more noted reaction and the monster jerks both arms in attempt to pull free of that binding. one yanks forward, almost crossing the monster's burly chest, the next one lashes to the side, attempting to drag whatever's on the other end of that pure-hued cord straight down towards it. nothing. the echoing voice within its flaming "helm" growls in irritation. pest...

less two heads and more a face partially peering through the flames, almost like the possessing spirit manifesting a piece of itself within its own consuming power. whether he notices that he's been seen, or is even visible in the first place, doesn't seem to register for him. but the monster itself abruptly hauls a leg back and then stomps into the ground towards the glowing being across from him. fire rips out from its leg and scours across the ground in a flaming carpet of navy waves, seeking to either crash into the pest's limbs or entirely remove a swath of ground for him to stand on. hands? this thing thinks its hands are the source of its fire? ignorant...]

look at me... you told me... you set me on this path... you think you can abandon me... look at me! Endeavor!

[the creature focuses entirely on the pest across from it, abruptly charging forward in a full bore run towards him. flaming footsteps left behind within its wake, the air heating up the closer it gets as it brings its furnace with it. fire spews from its back, pouring out into the shape of wings that immediately attempt to slice overhead and strike the air above the brilliant light. fully intending to block off its attempt to jump up, even as the monster flings its arms to the side, pouring flame off its already burning shoulders and sending the streams into arcs that curve in twin crescents towards its opponent. trying to cut off escape from top, sides, bottom, and crush it inside the fire.]

[ No sign it heard him. Is his soul that consumed it's unaware? Speaking like that... it sounds like such pure, cold, embittered hatred. And yet almost like that of...

...a child that wants approval? "Endeavor?"

He can't think about it too much, or even have another chance to try, because that is death barreling down on him. And above, to the side-- shit. His reactions are getting too slow for this.

(Hot. It's too hot. Even with Crown Clown, he can't think straight.)

Letting the tethers go slack but still wrapped where they were around the creature's hands, he twists his sword back out of the ground and around, light as a feather, as his cloak cracks out behind him on its own instinct. Rising in volume and size like giant wings, the feathered edges peel off into an easy dozen more of those ribbons, anchoring themselves to the edges of rooftops, streetlamps -- anything they can find -- and yanking him backward as much as he leaps back, with violent speed and hauling him upward once again ahead of the curved arcs of fire that crash down where he was. Landing this time with light feet on the gentle arch of a street lamp, he doesn't stop to even check to see if either of the other two waves of flame are still coming at him and instead spins his sword around for a moment, takes grim-faced aim --

And hurtles it like a six foot long, two foot wide plank of a spear at that oncoming freight train of a monster, with far more strength than someone with his apparent build should be able to.

And while it may be weightless to him, it is anything but to anyone else.

Come on, strike. Can't you feel that then? Won't that be some kind of relief? Some crack in that thing's form? Snap out of it! ]

Edited 2022-04-13 20:47 (UTC)

[yes. in a frenzied rush, all four flaming offenses crash down into the space where he had been, spewing out fire in a gushing explosion. bastard took one of the few ways out: backwards. but that means he's being chased, no longer on the offense. and those binds around its arms have gone slack, allowing the monster more freedom of movement with them. a very evasive person, those tendrils enabling the pest to get from one place to the next without much effort from the body. sloughing even more inferno off its body, the monster rises back to its full height, looking up towards the pest perched on the lamp light above him. it's going to be tricky balancing up there, as the metal begins to soften from the sheer presence of that fire so close to it. but it holds... for now, the weight upon it not enough to make it buckle under the remaining strength.

its eyes narrow at the way that other hauls back. countless images. hundreds of videos and papers. though he isn't a hero himself, he's seen so many examples. it's not hard at all to guess what the next attack is going to be. a spear-like throw, hurtling his sword through the air. flames burst from the monster's wrist and in a flash of boiling fire, forms into a burning spear of its own, one giant hand slamming around its middle with a splash of heat beneath its grip. and hauls right back for its own, before slamming it forward in a blazing strike.

both meet in midair, crashing into each other, concussive force versus physical weight. flames shatter outward in a bursting array of smaller spines, and the monsters eyes widen as the glowing point emerges from the back of its own attack. a second later, the heavy impact pierces into meat with a wet "splutch!" sound, twisting its body to the side as it roars in surprise and anger. right through the shoulder, heaving the massive beast from the floor and carrying it a short distance backwards before thudding into the wall behind it. left dangling a foot or so above the ground, one hand grasping at the sword embedded in its shoulder, the monster tugs and pulls at it, some of that corruption falling away as if a rotten log was pouring off the arm, revealing another limb beneath, this one far more lanky and discolored with purple, gnarled scar tissue.

but at least it seems to have finally gotten the attention of the other party. that turquoise eye slides upward in its flaming socket, peering towards the glowing being atop that lamp post.]

who're you...?

Edited 2022-04-14 15:53 (UTC)

[ Bold of you to assume he can't still be on the offense like this.

Because you had better believe he's using the opening -- and the blind spot -- that his sword created. Because the binds on those wrists where he had let the tether go slack, like giving a hooked fish room to run, suddenly go tight again as he yanks violently on them to pull himself forward. Lightning fast, like a cloaked ghost sailing over the fire with the smoldering tips of an increasingly ragged-looking feathers, so that he can reel himself in and slam boot first against the creature's large chest.

But not before a series of more ribbons whip out, attempting to wrap fully around its form and smother what flames it can -- and anchor himself to it. Pin them both to the wall with sharp, almost sword-like ones that stab deep into the brickwork and give him leverage from pushing back with his boot.

It hurts. Being this close even with Crown Clown -- he can feel it like rising bile from the edges of his face where the cowl presses in, his less protected legs... no. Don't think about it. ]

I'm someone... [ He takes a ragged breath, fixing mismatched eyes behind the film of his mask on the soul's, one pale grey and the other a void of black and red. It's soft but steely, his tone. And even if his expression is grimly focused, there's something gentle about that and his human eye.

Even as he reaches once again for the hilt of his sword. ]

...who wants to save you.

[ Grabbing the hilt, he pulls it free enough to twist it around -- and try to drive it into the monster's core. Deep, go deep. Deep enough to, with one good strike...

(His left eye shifts, bunching up in concentration. The scar, once so delicately cut across his face like paint strokes,
suddenly twisting about restless on his face like smoke. The pentagram-star shifts, twists. Trying to lock eyes with that person's soul, just so he can--) ]

Edited 2022-04-14 17:31 (UTC)

[ ....save him?

The world... shifts. In a stomach-turning sort of way; like his stomach literally just got pulled out through his left eye and for a moment he wants to retch. There's a disconnected feeling suddenly though, like being one place and then having your body suddenly have to adjust to some other place with some other rules of existence. Like he's been put on pause. Like he...

(Like he used the Ark? It feels like that. Stepping through somewhere briefly into nowhere, into the void, and yet...)

Looking down at his hands for a moment, he realizes he's no longer in his invocation. Just dressed in his uniform jacket normally, apparently. No sword; no beast. And, startled, he looks around to see just...

...where he even is? ]

[the monster's abruptly jerked forward, or at least its arms are, tugging the solid mass of it against the sword embedded through its shoulder. a bellow of anger pours from its mouth at the mixture of pain and resistance, its free hand jerking up and snapping around the handle of the sword. flames gush out immediately, coating over the surface of the blade in effort to heat it up until it melts or breaks. but even that attempt is interrupted when the pest drop right against its chest, shoving the monster's body against the wall and redirecting its attention from the sword to its opponent.

fire bursts out from its body as more of those ribbons suddenly reach for it, trying to consume its form. without waiting, it opts for the same action as its opponent did, flooding flames from its back and punching the wall out behind it. driving backwards through the molten stone and retreating into the building while dragging the glowing being with it. the cords sinking into the wall only weaken the structure further as the two vanish inside the darkness of the building, using the pressure against its chest to increase the momentum with which it's retreating. all the while spilling flames off its shoulders and legs, carpeting the entire floor with more of that sea of boiling navy blue. spitting out that fire from any possible place that isn't being overlaid with the white strips.

burning blue eyes glare right back into the mismatched gaze staring into it, not at all looking like it's keen on having a conversation as it continues throwing the inferno wherever it came. setting the building on fire even more as further cords continue to mummify its figure. no words to answer, no care to even try. only getting hotter and hotter as that rage and violence grows with every moment of its enchaining.

luckily by the time the sword itself is wrenched out, most of the monster is left standing in the middle of the room beneath the ribbons, a few flames still stubbornly spitting out of whatever section might not be covered. but akin to wrapping up a stove oven, the heat inside refuses to go out, already melting the floor around it and weakening the walls, causing wood to spontaneously combust as it dries out. there's no further motion even as the sword is plunged back inside its chest, leaving it skewered within the building.

darkness. it's dark where he is. an oppressive sense of being alone pervades the entire place. not the loneliness of someone who's trying to find their way back, but the loneliness of someone who has been pushed out from everywhere else. just long enough for him to sink a little in that feeling before a burst of blue fire spurts up from the void. burning bright and hot once more. then another one. and another. pillars from the "ground" or orbs hovering in the "air" covering more and more of the place until the entire area is left once more with a sea of fire all around. crisscrossing and returning to itself, creating walls and barriers to prevent and blockade.

within one of those burning pyres, that same eye from before appears, this time at least also bearing some shadowy outline within the fire, like someone looking out of a burning cocoon, but not willing to let anyone else see.]

What do you want?

[ It's... actually familiar, this sort of blackness. This desolate sort of lonely void. It's the entire point of his eye that lets him see corrupted and despairing souls; his own "father's" curse to him. "I'm back, Allen."

"The darkness has returned to you."

It's just ironic that it's so literal this time. Although he actually seems somewhat calmed by it, expression flickering for a moment before smoothing, even as he turns towards the blue flames as they begin to wink into existence. A few, and then more and more—exactly like the ones from that beast. Exactly like the one that consumed that butterfly, he realizes.

The soul. He's within the soul. Or... whatever plane of existence it's on. However that works.

So when the other man's outline begins to take form and that same cold-looking, fiery blue eye focuses on him he's not really surprised. Even if his expression is still somewhat awe-touched at the reality of this. ]

...you became a beast. [ Even if his tone is calm, gentle even, his shoulders are still back and posture carefully held. Cautious. It isn't like he has any idea what to expect, after all. ] Out there in the world.

I want to bring you back.

[not quite exactly the same. the ones on that beast were a dark navy, the glow coming from the heat of the flames it set around him and molten rocks boiling into liquid. these here are akin to those brilliant bright blue flames that consumed the butterfly earlier. causing the darkness around them to light up in an almost eerie sort of way. similar to the flames you might see at a wake, or beckoning one into the realm of the dead.

refusing to emerge from the flames, the figure before him remains within the burning envelop, not trusting in a very visceral way. watching him from the fire, calculating and cautious. it's a strange sensation, feeling like he's being invaded, yet unable to find a way to shove out or pull from that reality. so he keeps a barrier between himself and the person.]

Rude. Can't say I haven't been called that before... [his tone stays dry, mirroring the detached and guarded look in his eye. can't leave from this place, so he's stuck having this conversation? doesn't sound pleased by it.] I'm right here.

[ It's creepy. This whole place is.

The answer does surprise him a little, and his brow twitches for a moment. Does this man--his soul--know where he is? Maybe not. Maybe he just might be being an ass and want him gone, but it's hard to tell from that deadpan stare.

Even so, given the entire situation, Allen honestly couldn't blame him for it if he is. ]

You're not, but your body right now is. [ Still calm, still cautious. His eyes, both a pale grey in here, flicker across where the rest of the other man's face should be, like he's trying to read some expression he can't fully see. Like trying to identify him. ]

Who are you?

[does this intruder know where he is? he's inside him and dabi's more aware someone's somewhere they're not supposed to be more than he knows this is some kind of soulscape. what's normally private thoughts and feelings is now being invaded by another presence and all that fire around is designed to keep the unwanted being from going too far into his feelings and memories. as for the "being an ass" and "wanting him gone" parts, yeah, that's pretty much true.]

Dabi. [the answer comes as naturally as a deflective motion a body would make to avoid getting struck. but after a few seconds, the flames flicker and his echoing voice among the crackling fires shifts a little, becoming a bit softer and not as hard. as if he changed his mind.] Touya... Todoroki Touya...

Who're you?

[ He doesn't miss that, that sort of pause and how the soul of the other man seems to amend itself. Almost seeming -- a touch gentler for a moment, maybe? It gives him hope. But the revelation there is entirely dwarfed by what he goes on to say, and Allen's visibly staggered by it. ]

Todoroki?! [ Eyes snap open wide, the recognition stamped as plainly on his face as the surprise. ]

I... I'm Allen Walker. I'm an exorcist, but -- [ "I have to be the one... to handle my brother."

The thing in the catacombs that had staggered and wrestled such a briefly emotional, anguished admission from his normally unshakeable friend... he hadn't understood it at the time. Hadn't really wanted to since it would have meant invading something the other boy clearly wanted to keep private. But now, everything he'd said... "He's like me. How I used to be. I was burning with rage, reckless... I didn't care about anything but denying him his legacy."

"I was him."

Allen breathes out, his expression having softened more to an awed sort of realization as he tries to reconcile that one visible eye of Dabi's -- Touya's -- with Shouto's bright one. The almost neon blue flames that limn the area. ]

You... you're Shouto's brother, aren't you?

[his eye remains a singular bared point within the flames, neither moving around nor losing its focus. watching the reaction with the same guarded intensity from before. the way the man staggers like that brings some memories wandering around, similar to a certain blonde man with red wings who had been likewise stunned at the revelation. amusing.

going off that reaction, he assumes this person must have some connection with his little brother. fire fluffs a little at the mention of an "exorcist".]

Is that what's going on? Ya tryin to cast me outta my own body? Pretty presumptuous of you.

[another jet of flames bursts up beside the invader, less to attack and more to judge the reaction of how he'd respond to what might be an attack. like someone becoming aware of this new muscle they can flex. in this case, being aware of his own soul. it's a strange sensation. but if this person's in here with him... then why the hell shouldn't he defend himself from this attempted deletion? wouldn't be the first time someone's attempted to erase him from existence.]

Oh? Ya know that little puppet?

[ When the flame bursts from the "ground" next to him it startles him, but to his credit he barely flinches. It isn't even so much that it feels hot, outside of a realm of physics and not in his own body, but... the spiritual force behind it has such an intensity it might as well be just as searing. He tenses up, gaze snagged on it in some alarm as he measures if it's an actual attack—can he even be attacked in here? best to not find out—but... it doesn't seem to be, and some of the tension bleeds back off.

A warning? ]

He isn't a puppet. [ It's a stubborn insistence, without even a moment of hesitation or batting an eye, as much as he doesn't understand where that sentiment is coming from either. ]

I'm not trying to cast you out. It isn't-- I'm not an exorcist like that. [ It really is an annoying misconception he's had to deal with too many times. ]

You were corrupted when you killed that butterfly. You've lost control of your body... right now it's rampaging in the Trench and attacking everything it can. [ Mostly... him? It's a good point... what's happening right now in the real world? To his body, and to this man's beast form who he thought he might finally be at the moment of cleansing? Being in here now...

...did that mean his body was dying? The searing pain to the point it was almost numb in his legs, his feet, where he hadn't thought to get his boots blood enchanted. The steel toes becoming molten against his skin --

The corner of his mouth twitches for a moment, but pushes it back down and keeps his focus ahead on Dabi. Steeled calm. ]

I want to help you get it back.

Edited 2022-04-16 19:28 (UTC)

[if he can be attacked in here, there's no real intent to at the moment. otherwise that flame burst would've come up a little bit more to the left...]

You don't know anythin. Don't pretend ya do. [that stubbornness is met with a callous indifference as solid as a stone wall that has no clue what "give" actually is. an automatic defense like that is simply more proof this guy knows nothing.]

Then what are you? [if it's annoying, then use another term and not the word that everyone everywhere associates with 'casting out spirits' in almost every nation and culture. idiot. otherwise, expect the annoyance. (and now that he knows...)]

Oh yeah? That sounds amazin. Hope it burns this place to the ground. [his eyes widens and there's an obvious delight in his tone, both that his body is still causing destruction out there even if he's not in control of it, and that this guy would compliment him on the achievement. even the flames get brighter around him.] It'd be better if I were in control though...

[one small caveat that murmurs in the crackling of flames. dabi's not fond of other people controlling him, certainly not fond of losing control of his own body either. his gaze flicks back towards the man when he offers to help him return. it narrows in suspicion.]

What's in it for you?

[ It's true, he doesn't know anything. He doesn't like to pry into people's private affairs so he doesn't have a lot to go off of, but he does pay close attention to others. What is said, how they react -- how they are as a person. He doesn't need to know someone's sordid details to understand the kind of person they are at the moment. Just what their core motivation is. What their intent is -- what their heart is.

That's how Allen sees it, at least.

The other's obvious enjoyment at the destruction his body is causing though -- Allen grimaces a little at that. Really, the psychopath response? No, he can't presume anything about him from that. Not entirely; if this man's soul was corrupted then who knows just how much it's twisting him. And... it is the Trench they're talking about. He can't condone it, but he can understand how someone could have a bitter resentment towards it.

That said, it still leaves an unpleasant sense in his gut. But to that question, what's in it for him...

...he relaxes, actually. For the first time since he came here, still squared off against the other but in an easygoing manner. Chin up, meet his eye, smile -- in a softly wry sort of way. Almost as if to say "shouldn't it be obvious?" ]

Absolutely nothing. [ Is he ridiculous? Yes, absolutely. ]

I just don't like to see anyone suffer.

[ But he is gentle and unflinching about it. ]

So if I don't understand anything, then make me. [ It's his best hope right now, isn't it? Trying to reason with him. Understand him, so that maybe he could talk him down from his corruption... if it still worked like beasthood did in some others. Violence and using his Innocence -- that doesn't seem like the right course right now, if they even work in here.

"You said I was the greatest..."
"Endeavor..."
"Look at me..."
"Ya know that little puppet?"
"I was burning with rage, reckless... I didn't care about anything but denying him his legacy..."

Sorry, Shouto. ]

Why does he feel like he has to take care of you?

Edited 2022-04-18 01:31 (UTC)

[he's not the only one who pays attention, though this is more akin to a hunter watching for tells and signs of deceit and ulterior motives, if not telegraphs for the next motion. someone who's used to being hunted and never trusting a word someone in front of him says at face value. some of that edge is ingrained habit, despite it not really mattering in this strange realm he's not sure if he'll even remember once it's all said and done.

the way allen's face crimps like that when he relishes in the destruction dabi's body is currently causing is a pretty large giveaway. not a fan of wanton destruction, huh. unfortunately, yep. thanks to his life, a sociopath is exactly what shouto's eldest brother has become. too bad the guy didn't get a chance to see him fully before the transformation. might've explained a few things at least. can't say he's all that fond of being stuck in this world either.

flames shift and slide in the background, moving within the darkness that keeps more of himself hidden away behind the brilliant blue fires and the black shadows they cast. allen's countenance changes and the soul's eyes narrows within that burning pillar, unamused at the way the exorcist is setting up for this "reveal" of an answer.]

Bullshit. [calls him out on that immediately. and then the clarifying statement, earning a faint scoff from somewhere within the azure inferno.] So ya doin this cause it makes ya feel good about yourself. Kinda selfish... typical hero.

[nothing positive is attached to the dismissive way he says "hero". almost like it's an insult. which to a villain, it pretty much is. grouping allen with the collective bunch from his world that's full of blind, hypocritical, self-serving idiots.]

That ain't any of your business. ["make" him understand. that's impossible. someone with that kind of selfish mindset, entrenched in heroic ideals, would never understand. like all the others, would simply try to force a viewpoint disagreeing with his own.] He ain't even here right now to suffer for it. So what's the point?

[the latter part is more musing than anything else, as if his thoughts are wandering, before dabi's eye focuses back on him once more.]

Ya said you wanted me to regain control of my body, right?

[ Calling bullshit on him, even calling him selfish -- neither seem to phase him, like he's heard that before (and he has). Won't even argue about it. The way he throws out "hero" as a barb though -- that does catch him faintly by surprise. Not something he's usually called -- or ever, actually. And even if he hadn't said it as such an obvious insult... it isn't something he likes. At all. It's... uncomfortable.

But it's forgotten when the other continues and his eyes widen as if struck, and then immediately narrow. ]

Suffer for it? [ that -- his own brother? ] Why would you want him to suffer?!

[ Tch, he shouldn't yell. That's not the point here: this is the person in front of him he wants to save right now. But even so...

He throttles back his outrage but it's clearly a struggle, hands balled into fists at his side and mouth set like he's tasted something bad. ]

I do. [ Even if you're being a bastard. ]

Right now, we were fighting out there. Our bodies are. [ still are? who knows, it's not a comforting thought ] If I can't stop you --

[ Trailing off slightly for a moment, he takes a moment to press his lips together a little more tightly than he needs to, to dig his fingers more deeper into his palms. "If he dies" is what he means. ]

Then you need to be the one to fight the corruption in you yourself.

[if he doesn't want to be called a hero, then he shouldn't act like one. simple as that. dabi notes the lack of any real response to his words, suggesting this guy's gone through a lot of insults in his life, enough that he no longer cares. that's fine. not like he plans on trying to beat him down with a bunch of name calling. still, going around talking about "saving" and "helping" and being nosy into other people's personal business? that's all the marks of a hero. and he hates heroes.

dabi's eye doesn't change its focus when allen reacts like that. another bleeding heart.]

Same reason you'd wanna save him. [they're not talking about the same person, but he's letting it run its course.] Cause it feels good. Cause ya get somethin outta it.

[the escalated voice does nothing to his presence, the flames not even burning brighter against allen's outrage. content to watch him like he's some piece of meat on a slab for inspection. noting his anger, the way his hands curl into fists, mouth twisting around that sour truth heroes like him hate to taste on their tongues.]

Am I winning?

[it's mildly annoying he can't "see" outside of this place, doesn't even know what his own body's doing. has to rely on this guy (who he has zero reason to trust) to know what's going on. which unfortunately backs up a little of what allen's said regarding his physical body. this is some weird ass out-of-body experience... though he does remember the butterfly.]

Fight it? [this time, his eye narrows before the flames begin to peel back from his flesh. revealing spiky white hair, another brilliant turquoise eye, and burn scars all over all over his face and lower. carving a burned rictus look on his face as silver staples and hoops hook the gnarled purple burn scars onto what still-remaining healthy flesh rests on his body. leaning out of the flames until they're licking around his waist, revealing the entire expanse of his upper torso and the burns covering it, shoulders, arms, chest, stomach, back, patchwork of burn and clear.] Why would I wanna do that?

Edited 2022-04-18 20:20 (UTC)

[ Each punctuating word, one after another, that to cause suffering feels good, the sly hope that he's "winning", or even why would he want to fight even the corruption of his soul...?

He grimaces, briefly looking like he swallowed something so bitter and listening in a growingly uneasy silence as the flames peel back and reveal his human form finally. Even moreso than the sight of stapled together skin and such horrific burns -- no, it's that lazy-seeming smile that unsettles him the most. I think... maybe my first thought was right.

His eyes narrow, chin lowering slightly when Dabi leans forward, though to his credit he doesn't flinch and keeps his own pale eyes locked to his turquoise ones.

He's a little unhinged.

That said... it's still horrible. He looks like someone who's been burned half alive. Despite wielding fire himself, not entirely unlike Shouto? Presuming that is his actual body; Allen didn't get the greatest look before he became a beast. It's sickening to think about what would have caused that and how he's still alive despite it, but... he swallows. And he's never one to stare at another's disfigurements, not with dealing with it so much himself, so he keeps his own fire-brightened silvery eyes to Dabi's and takes a step forward instead.

And then another, calm and steady. Close enough to touch, if either of them were to reach out. He's a little shorter, less than an inch, but almost painfully more slender.

Remember, this is the person—the soul—you want to save right now. It doesn't matter what sort of person he is, even if this is him talking and not the corruption. That's what he has to keep telling himself.

(He's Shouto's brother. He has to save him now, even if he had to before as well.) ]

Because you don't seem like someone who likes to be controlled.

Edited 2022-04-18 20:38 (UTC)

[people react differently to how he looks. some people recoil in horror and disgust, others gaze at him in curiosity or a morbid fascination, a number of them stare in pity and want to help him, and a select few don't bother looking much at all perturbed. he can tell more about them from their initial reactions as well.

allen doesn't know the full story behind these burns and dabi doesn't have much reason to tell him. mostly because the one responsible isn't here to answer for it. half the reason he tells someone is to discredit heroes and to heap more burdens on his father. but knowing what little he does of allen now, the reaction likely would be the opposite of anything dabi wants to hear.

doesn't sound like he knows much on his own either. that must mean shouto never told him, since he obviously knows his little brother. which brings up some other questions, but those are for shouto, not allen.

dabi lingers where he is as allen approaches him, not retreating, but not inviting either. despite the annoyance of his invasion into his mind, the villain at least seems to be willing to converse. still not ready to reveal more than his guarded soul wants.]

Had enough of people tryin to control me.

[defensive, but agreeing. allen said his body was currently running rampant up there and dabi has no intention of bring relegated to a box in his own body.]

So now what?

[ He almost snorts at that answer. Finally, a sentiment he can understand. But he doesn't, and just smiles to Dabi instead. It's uneasy and stretched a little thin, anything but happy, but grimly determined. ]

No idea whatsoever. [ And he doesn't sound even the least bit disturbed by that.

He is nervous, unsettled about the not knowing of it, but most of his life is like that. So you kind of just have to get used to rolling with it. It isn't the first time his eye has evolved. It isn't the first time corruption in this world has made his abilities become unpredictable and wild -- more powerful, it almost seems -- and it won't be the last. Exorcism -- the purification of the corruptive material from the soul that can drive it and the body mad -- of someone still alive is different than the souls of the dead he's lived nearly his whole life doing. But...

He brings a hand up -- his left one, blood red and plated in carapace-like armor around his fingers and knuckles, long black nails befitting a devil more than a human -- and merely offers it as means of true answer. More to grip and clasp than to shake as gentlemen do.

Dabi -- Touya doesn't seem the type. ]

But I think it starts like this.

[ Now take his hand you bastard. ]

[dabi's expression goes flat at the response to his question.]

that's reassurin.

[it drips sarcasm. shouto mentioned corruption and the like, but no comment on how to undo the corruption or beasthood. the journal of information he got at the beginning didn't offer much in the way of advice either. as for relying on this hero? ... yeah that's not really encouraging to dabi's idea of "going forward" either. especially if he's got no idea.

what he's offered, however, is a hand that looks monstrous. that or some wicked armor clinging around the bones and fingers with claws and shell-like metal. turquoise eyes glance down at the offered grip, then lift back up to allen with a wry look running across his face. surely the guy didn't think things would be that easy, did he?]

What's that supposed to do?

[from what he understands, allen's already invaded his damn mind and dabi put up walls fast, but not fast enough. he knows the man heard some of what he thought, those vulnerable feelings that tipped him off about things. he'd rather not give the man access to further recesses and even more thoughts.]

[ Nothing in Allen's life is ever reassuring for long. Or easy. You get used to it, so Dabi's clear disregard isn't really unexpected and he just arches an eyebrow in response. ]

Save both of us, I'd like to think. [ It's as wry as Dabi was sarcastic.

It's definitely more monstrous than artificially armored, and he wouldn't even deny it. He himself thinks it's an ugly thing that he usually keeps gloved anyway so it doesn't cause a scene. The armoring is seamless with and indeed part of his "skin", hairless and looking more like polished stone or leather than anything resembling flesh, and on closer inspection the back of his hand has a golden crystal fused into it. Four thin points like a star, or perhaps some sort of cross.

But don't give him that look. Before the Trench he might have been used to mothers ushering their children away from him on the street and telling the constable to lock him up for looking so hideous, obviously a freak, cultist, or just insane, but please. You're in no position to judge him for something like that. ]

I told you, I'm an exorcist. [ It's more conversational as opposed to a chide. Easygoing even, despite the entire situation and how serious he truly is. And he flexes his fingers for a moment, as if to demonstrate. ]

What lets me destroy the corruption that can take over a soul is my left hand.

[so he's supposed to believe this guy shows up in his mind for the sole purpose of "saving" him from some kind of beastly corruption with no ulterior motive asides from being a hero and feeling better about himself... and that's all done by an offered hand, an "i don't know" plan for what comes next, and he's supposed to trust him. enough to get his body back at least.

the last part is the only real weight on his end towards accepting this.

and that hand still doesn't even look human. though dabi's from a world where one hero has a literal centipede for a head and the nomu all for one and the league of villains utilize are even more monstrous than that. it doesn't bother him so much as gives him more reason to be skeptical about this. he doesn't exactly want allen diving even deeper into his psyche and the idea of "destroying" the corruption inside him is a vague threat in line with some aggressive hero wanting to "eradicate the villainy" from some villain they deem unfit to continue existing the way they want.

he's in every position to judge him because dabi doesn't give a shit about what "position" he's in in the first place. if he doesn't like someone, he'll fucking say it and/or show it. right now, this guy's threading a thin line between dislike and wary acceptance.]

But not that kind. [as he'd been so quick to point out with that exasperated huff earlier. for a few more seconds, he lingers on the option, hating the idea of accepting "help" from someone like this, but certainly not afraid to take someone's offered aid to utilize for his own advantage.] Tch-

[and takes allen's hand.]

[ Heh.

He smiles at that. Again, not the happy kind, but a cavalier sort of dealing with devils renewed determination when the other man takes his hand. And he grips it in return, strong and like a promise. ]

Not that kind. [ You seem absolutely nothing like your brother, you know. It's that bright but hard sort of glimmer in his pale eyes that he keeps squarely on Dabi's turquoise ones, the little upward twitch of a lopsided cocky smile.

But for a bit of a dick you might not be all that bad.

There's a faint glow from the cross on the back of his hand though. A gentleness that would radiate through his palm, something that feels soothing and cleansing like a fresh breeze on one's face. And even if it isn't a full invocation -- better not be, he wouldn't want to slice through that man's hand right after he got him to reluctantly trust him -- there's a rush of white and light as luminescent feathers lick their way like a sudden fire from his wrist up over his shoulders to the other and surround them in the whirl of what is either a cloak -- or wings. Or both. Bright but altogether unlike the neon firelight, more like being briefly caught in a blizzard that's both warm and cool. Crystalline but soft fragments of feather-shaped light wafting like snowflakes in the air. Even the scent is cool and soothing; clean and thin, crystalline, like fresh snow. And the faintest sort of note of ozone, like electricity in the air -- or magic.

That's the shape of a heart that just wants to "save" people and their souls given form and power. The most condensed form of spiritual power that comes solely from an unwavering sense of love for humanity, so deep and raw it's almost ragged. Bright as the brightest light right before it's burnt itself straight out from existence --

And something that exists solely to soothe and purge the dark, as it whips around them both. ]

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