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
[Nodding for Allen to follow, he turns, leading back out of the facilities, looking for one of the connecting tunnels. It had been a bit of a trek, occasionally out into the snow, from the main town to the Transport facilities, but food is good business in this environment if one can get the supplies and there are places along the way and nearby to choose from.
Link picks a pub that's still bustling, so that the sounds of other conversation will mask their own. At this hour the patrons are less to Link's tastes but he knows the food will be good and Allen will likely be glad for their meat-heavy menu.]
[He nods to one of the more sheltered booths] Will this do?
no subject
He follows Link to the table with a nod.]
It's fine.
no subject
So you've remembered everything, then. Or rather, you've gone home and lived through everything up to that night in the prison...?
[The significance of that is starting to sink in properly, now. This is an Allen that knows him, that doesn't need what they've been through to be explained or privately set aside as irrelevant. It's a new set of worries, but more than that he feels an undeniable sense of relief that he doesn't quite have the will to attempt to quash down immediately.]
no subject
He settles back in his booth. Of course he's happy to see Link whole and healthy (and still very much concerned, about what the Apocryphos might have done to him), but it's.
Complicated. A part of him is still itching to get away.
He glances down, at his hands resting in his lap.]
I returned home for... it must have been over a year. I've lived through it all now. For me, it's been two months since that night in prison. [ he supposes he should just get this out there, ] I never returned to the Order, Link.
[ firmly, ] I'm not going to. Not now.
no subject
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What reasons?
1/2
--Of course, I can hardly return to the Order myself, seeing as everyone believes me to be dead... And you aren't the only one facing the enemies from within our organization... [The admittance of such a situation existing is difficult too, but he has always known this, from assisting Rouvelier, even though he's never recognized the face of that enemy himself.]
But as for my own reasons, I..
no subject
...I'm certain it's strange to hear it from me, of all people... But I would like to see you succeed. If you are able to defy your fate and choose the future you desire.. [there's hope for me. for everyone I care about.] I want to see it.
1/2
That. Wasn't quite what he was expecting... 'Strange' is one way to put it. It's - support, though.
In the cold, lonely place he's allowed himself to fall into, without another human soul by his side, Link's been there. Apparently, searching for him, cheering him on. He had no idea. And he's taken aback by it, eyes widening.]
Ah...
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I haven't got a 'fate', Link. I'm creating my own path to follow, nobody is going to decide it for me. That much, I know.
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...It isn't a path you need to walk alone.
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He grits his teeth, expression closed-off, unable to look at the inspector directly anymore. He never thought Link would...
but no- Link doesn't understand. It is, it's exactly a path he must walk alone. Link was hurt because of him! Can't he see? It's better if he's on his own, he never should have followed...]
It is, Link.
no subject
What are you running from, Walker?