actual shoujo hobo allen walker. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
debtor) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2013-12-07 05:36 pm
debtor) wrote in exsiliumlogs2013-12-07 05:36 pm
(all open)
Date & Time: Around December 9th (forward-dated)
Location: around town, Earthside
Characters: Allen Walker (debtor) and YOU
Summary: Allen returns from his canon update and avoids all his friends like a dumbass.
Warnings: terrible hair and eau de hobo
[It's not the Moon, at least.
He remembers it vividly enough now. Had forgotten it for a year, he'd forgotten all of it — a massive, terrible gap in his memory he hadn't realized was missing until it'd all come rushing back the moment he'd returned. It'd left his head spinning for a day, but by now he thinks he's got a firm enough grasp of it. No, this isn't the Moon, but it isn't the Exsilium he knows, either.
It'd all turned to snow, Kaneis had told him...
He hasn't sought out Kaneis. He hasn't sought out any of them. Not his friends, not his comrades. He can't.
He's been gone a long time, he's sure, and if any of them are still here, they've gotten on fine without him
(better off without him.)
He can't let himself want to. They're probably not even still here.
This is how it should be.]
[But if you know him, the boy is more or less in the same state he was in a few days ago. A fraction of an inch taller, just barely thinner about the face, changes so insignificant they'd be too difficult to really pin-point; save for his hair, which is unmistakably longer and tied back in a ponytail, presently. He dons a battered old coat clearly not intended for subzero temperatures, and carries with him everywhere a worn brown suitcase (stuffed to the brim mainly with clown props. Don't ask.) He's spent his energy seeking supplies, since arriving. If there's one thing he refuses to do, it's succumb to starvation or frostbite here and now, of all times. Once he's set, he can figure out what to do next.
And he really doesn't know.
Can he still fight this war? How can he help in this world, when he's like this? He thought he was following his own path, really his own, finally, only to be thrown off it entirely. Again.
He does what he can do, what he thinks best. He stays the course. He moves through this place as he did his own world - alone. He's not an Exorcist, he's not a soldier or Transport to anyone he meets, he's wearing the mask of a nameless drifter; he tells the locals he's nothing but a traveling entertainer, just passing through town, when they inquire. It's only half a lie. He brushes off the mistrustful glances he receives, smiles genially at every unfamiliar and unfriendly face, never stays in one place long, covers his tracks and fades into the background just as he'd learned from Cross. (Easier to do when everything's so dang white.) It's second nature now. And he does well at it
except he's neglected to actually disguise himself, and you may just be able to spot him around the town.
Throughout the day he can be found within and without various shops and businesses, bartering for food or winter clothing or a room in an inn. Inflatable balls and moth-bitten shirts can only fetch you so much in this market, though, he's finding, but he haggles as hard as he can.
At one point, he wanders out into the snow, shaking in the chill despite himself, squinting into the stark landscape, but finds himself unwilling to step out too far into it like this, lest he lose himself in some featureless snowdrift and die a terribly undignified death. Possibly at the hands of a polar bear. Like that one maybe, right over there, which is getting alarmingly close...
...And in the evening, he finds shelter back in the tunnels, curled up in some dark, uninhabited corner where he can catch a few hours of undisturbed sleep, perhaps. Somehow, he manages.
He's totally got the hang of this, he's doing great on his own, don't worry.]
Location: around town, Earthside
Characters: Allen Walker (
debtor) and YOU Summary: Allen returns from his canon update and avoids all his friends like a dumbass.
Warnings: terrible hair and eau de hobo
[It's not the Moon, at least.
He remembers it vividly enough now. Had forgotten it for a year, he'd forgotten all of it — a massive, terrible gap in his memory he hadn't realized was missing until it'd all come rushing back the moment he'd returned. It'd left his head spinning for a day, but by now he thinks he's got a firm enough grasp of it. No, this isn't the Moon, but it isn't the Exsilium he knows, either.
It'd all turned to snow, Kaneis had told him...
He hasn't sought out Kaneis. He hasn't sought out any of them. Not his friends, not his comrades. He can't.
He's been gone a long time, he's sure, and if any of them are still here, they've gotten on fine without him
(better off without him.)
He can't let himself want to. They're probably not even still here.
This is how it should be.]
[But if you know him, the boy is more or less in the same state he was in a few days ago. A fraction of an inch taller, just barely thinner about the face, changes so insignificant they'd be too difficult to really pin-point; save for his hair, which is unmistakably longer and tied back in a ponytail, presently. He dons a battered old coat clearly not intended for subzero temperatures, and carries with him everywhere a worn brown suitcase (stuffed to the brim mainly with clown props. Don't ask.) He's spent his energy seeking supplies, since arriving. If there's one thing he refuses to do, it's succumb to starvation or frostbite here and now, of all times. Once he's set, he can figure out what to do next.
And he really doesn't know.
Can he still fight this war? How can he help in this world, when he's like this? He thought he was following his own path, really his own, finally, only to be thrown off it entirely. Again.
He does what he can do, what he thinks best. He stays the course. He moves through this place as he did his own world - alone. He's not an Exorcist, he's not a soldier or Transport to anyone he meets, he's wearing the mask of a nameless drifter; he tells the locals he's nothing but a traveling entertainer, just passing through town, when they inquire. It's only half a lie. He brushes off the mistrustful glances he receives, smiles genially at every unfamiliar and unfriendly face, never stays in one place long, covers his tracks and fades into the background just as he'd learned from Cross. (Easier to do when everything's so dang white.) It's second nature now. And he does well at it
except he's neglected to actually disguise himself, and you may just be able to spot him around the town.
Throughout the day he can be found within and without various shops and businesses, bartering for food or winter clothing or a room in an inn. Inflatable balls and moth-bitten shirts can only fetch you so much in this market, though, he's finding, but he haggles as hard as he can.
At one point, he wanders out into the snow, shaking in the chill despite himself, squinting into the stark landscape, but finds himself unwilling to step out too far into it like this, lest he lose himself in some featureless snowdrift and die a terribly undignified death. Possibly at the hands of a polar bear. Like that one maybe, right over there, which is getting alarmingly close...
...And in the evening, he finds shelter back in the tunnels, curled up in some dark, uninhabited corner where he can catch a few hours of undisturbed sleep, perhaps. Somehow, he manages.
He's totally got the hang of this, he's doing great on his own, don't worry.]
no subject
Cross has noted the tiny changes here and there already — the ones he can see, at least. The hair alone tells him that his Idiot Apprentice has finally not only met up timeline-wise with where Cross & the others are, but surpassed it, too. He is glad, because now the air between them isn't going to be thick with apprehension and hesitation and the unknown, but he also wonders what has transpired that Allen is wearing that coat.
That entire outfit. ]
I'm sure you didn't forget how to speak from going home, idiot.
1/???
no subject
stand there. Alive. Like nothing's even happened. Like Allen hasn't been chasing his ghost for months, desperately scrounging through every blighted bar and brothel across the globe for whatever measly scrap, any paltry piece of information that Cross might've deigned to leave behind. About himself. About everything.
Because he's gone.
"If you've died, I'll hate you for it."]
It's been a long time since I've seen you, Master...
And I want you to know
no subject
no subject
no subject
for letting a worthless bastard like that Apocryphos
DONE?
1/2
"It's been a long time, Master."
What the hell does that mean? Sure, now Allen is the one ahead in the timeline, but that doesn't mean Cross was filled in as to what happens after his talk with his apprentice. ]
no subject
He's dead??
The shock is noticeable on his face for a good few seconds, but he covers it up as he ducks, letting the suitcase fly over him and crash to the snowy ground. ]
Yes, because I purposely died to piss you off to high heaven. Care to clarify what happened?
no subject
But what he saw, in that dungeon...
And the brief flash of shock in Cross's expression just now...
Oh, he's mad. Livid. And he's not holding back. If that's what it's come to between them, inflicting the most unwelcome news upon each other, then so be it. He's never been the one with information to hang over his Master's head before, it's hardly occurred to him Cross might not know. Cross knows EVERYTHING.
This is all his fault.]
The night you told me, about the Fourteenth-! You disappeared! Nobody could find a trace.
[It's already happened. Time is fixed. The man standing before him will go home someday, and it'll happen to him, and he won't be able to stop it. That just pisses him off more.]
But the Apocryphos showed me what happened! [ his voice catches in his throat, but he spits it out- ] He had Judgement, pointed at your head.
no subject
The last thing the General remembers is walking out of the room Allen and he were in for the reveal about the Fourteenth. He never made it to his room, instead being pulled into Exsilium. When was it, then — seconds, minutes, hours after their talk that this all went down? That he was killed — or so Allen says — with his own anti-Akuma weapon?
His hand goes to the thigh holster housing that gun, but he does not put a finger on it. It's not as if he can do much to change the timeline, make Judgement change its mind about killing him — that is what he is going back to once the Initiative decides it is done with his services.
This is some next-level shit to him, and he can't hold back the dark laugh that comes from him once he is done processing Allen's words, sarcasm dripping in his voice as he speaks. (And don't think Cross didn't notice how Allen's voice caught in his throat.) ]
Well, that is quite a way for us to have our first meeting since your trip back home. What else am I going to miss after I die once I go home?
no subject
Fuck you, Cross Marian. He doesn't want to hear that. He doesn't want to watch Cross process anything. It's unnatural.
Jaw held tight, he pulls the coat properly around his shoulders and stalks past Cross and goes to fetch his fallen suitcase, because he doesn't want to look at his Master with that sort of expression. And he doesn't have anything else solid enough to fling at his head. Maybe it'll connect, next time. But whatever else he's feeling, he manages to swallow it down and bury it under a healthy layer of anger, and frustration, with Cross and everything that's happened.
And so he takes his time brushing the snow off of his only possession, before facing him again. Quite a way indeed.
Where does he even start? The tables really have turned, maybe he shouldn't turn them back. Maybe he should keep his own cards close to his chest this time. After all, he's Cross Marian's student, isn't he. (And it's come to a point where it's something he can proclaim, with pride.)
Except Cross is a dead man and it's his fault that he knows, now.
They can't have this conversation back home, this may be his only chance.
So, where to start...] A lot has happened.
I've left the Order.
no subject
He does not expect a verbal "thank you" for the coat; the fact that Allen put it on says more than enough to him. He can't help but let out a low whistle at the maturity of this Exorcist before him in comparison to the one he's raised and butted heads with constantly.
Ha, "raised." That is an amusing word choice his mind springs up on him, but that is pretty much what he did, right? Sure, his methods were not very kind or easy on Allen, but he survived in the end. Anyone who survived his methods, especially a kid with all the odds stacked against him, deserved to have that acknowledged in any way.
It made him proud, even though he may not express it verbally to Allen himself, or anyone, really. (Cross Marian showing affection for someone that isn't a woman? You're hallucinating.)
He knots the scarf around his neck as Allen goes for the suitcase, finishing up once Allen begins to speak. His beginning words bring back his very first conversation with Lenalee upon arriving here, asking her what Allen's status was. ]
And yet here you stand, full memories intact. It wasn't a clean break. What has that asshole [ Lvellie ] done to prompt such a move from you?
no subject
He can make an educated guess who 'that asshole' is. He shakes his head, brow knit.]
Well, I was convicted of treason and imprisoned. [ a Noah, living among Exorcists. he'd hoped it wouldn't come to it... but what else could he expect? ] That's not the reason I left, though.
[No, he was going to go back, he was going to face whatever charges they leveled against him. Tyki Mikk's the one who convinced him not to. (He doesn't need to say that, right...)
He glances over his shoulder.] I'd rather fill you in on the rest somewhere private.
[Even if this conversation would be meaningless nonsense to nearly anyone who might overhear it, he can't help but feel a little paranoid, speaking openly about these things now.]
no subject
Treason? Well, shit son. Cross wants— no, needs to know what the hell happened to have Allen (of all people, Allen???) to land such a charge.
The general understands the need for privacy, even though they are in a world with no Noah present (he does not count Allen). He has to think for a moment about all the spots he has stopped into and bookmarked for future reference, and he will lead Allen to a nearby cafe, blessedly empty for the moment. (As much as he would prefer a bar, he did not feel like dealing with drunken imbeciles.) He goes right for the two available armchairs by the fireplace, not looking at Allen as his scarf comes undone. If Allen is paying attention, he might have seen a sparkle above the space appear for a moment. (A spell, of course, to make anyone who comes around them hear something entirely different from what is actually being said.) ]
Let's talk.
no subject
He sits across Cross, eyes on the flickering fire as he tries to sort this out in his head first. Would Cross know about the Second Exorcist program? The Third? He would, he must. He's a General, they must have been informed.
'Treason and imprisonment.' He wouldn't want to give Cross the wrong idea.]
The Noah attacked. They uncovered some skeletons from the Order's past, tried to use them against us. The Second Exorcist program, and the Third. [ tried to use them to awaken the 14th. and succeeded. ]
I'd helped another Exorcist then, against the Order's wishes. That's the reason why - it was somebody they'd hurt in the past, somebody who can finally live freely now. [ it's cathartic, saying it all aloud. he's had nobody to speak to, no one but Tim, and he's let it get knotted up. a tangle of anger and resentment and a wrenching regret, and satisfaction that perhaps he could help Alma and Kanda find peace, at least. ] There were others who needed to be saved, but I didn't get the chance. Special Inspector Lvellie ordered my arrest.