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
(shit)
There's no point at all in running anymore if she's already spotted him.
And yet as soon as he recalls how to move, without turning 'round to so much as glance at her, he's ducking down another passageway, Tim darting out of sight. It opens up into a small private lot, bitterly cold and deserted, but the air doesn't feel any less stifling. She'll follow right after him, he's sure, and fleeing in plain sight is clearly the best course of action and he really really needs to think of something to say to her right away.]
1/3
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Allen!
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But she never had that conversation, did she.
And he had such a terrible advantage, then. It's easier to justify leaving a girl crying on the forest floor with a few sweet parting words, when you're honestly a wanted fugitive with precious little time left and a convenient escape route.
This isn't him saying goodbye, though, and nor is this the same inevitable reunion he'd been quietly prepared for for months now. So having effectively cornered himself, he remains where he is and waits, clutching Tim and still bracing himself for that kick.
He's not sure what's coming, but she has her boots out. At least he looks contrite.]
1/2
For a long moment, she does not move.]
no subject
in his shirt collar
and haul him near.]
You ran.
[ sounds as though she cannot believe this: you ran ]
1/2
He could be flippant, he could grin and quip 'not very far' and act as though it'd been a joke, pretend nothing's different. That might be in poor taste, and it wouldn't work. But seemingly the best he can come up with is,]
I'm sorry.
[And an apology is almost as good as an explanation, right?
He's been running for months. It's the coming to a stop that has presented a problem.]
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It's good to see you again, Lenalee, [ running aside ] it really is.
['It's been a while.' His voice is a bit tight.]
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But you ran.
[This is more than just Kaneis' living in the streets.]
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I know. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have.
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So why did you?
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I've been away for a bit, [ that much is obvious ] I haven't quite settled back in yet. [ he slips on a smile of the self-deprecating style, ] You just startled me, I wasn't expecting...
[Her? No, that's stupid, why wouldn't he have been expecting her, why would he have fled...]
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He is wearing that smile. The one she envies and hates.]
Allen.
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[He resists the urge to step back, yet he seems to draw away from her.
It's not just the Apocryphos, the Noah and the threat of execution that chased him away from the Order. He's the reason, he's the problem, and that hasn't changed, no matter the world. He needs to tame his monsters before he can come back.
He doesn't know how to tell her that. Where to start with any of it. The smile fades, not as smoothly as it'd come.]
I wasn't
ready to be found. [ before she can speak up- ]
You know that no matter what, I'm always on your side, that I'll never do anything to hurt you, right? That won't ever change.
[ But. ]
But things are different now, I can't just- return to the life I had here, before...
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but she can't, at least not right away-- not with how suddenly her throat closes, dark thoughts drawing in like clouds: what has that man done to Allen?
His white teeth and sharp voice and never a hair out of place, a piranha in the water where every Exorcist goes to bleed.]
What kind of joke is this...
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(no, he can't let himself—)]
It's not a joke. [He draws a breath, steadying himself.]
Lenalee, it's better if I...
[ but for some reason, he can seem to find the end of that sentence. ]
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No. You're not slipping away from us.
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[And alas, he's all but forced to look at her.
He'd found that the only way to survive was to simply not think about the gaping hole in his heart where his adopted family had resided. But he's thinking of it now, he feels as though he may fall inside - but it's better for all of them if he's on his own, isn't it, if she'd just let him go, why can't she see that, why can't he say it?
He should have run. He needs to get away.
(He doesn't want to.)
He bites his lip like that can stop the mask from cracking. His cheeks feel awfully hot under her palms.]
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So long as we're here, whatever happened at home can wait.
1/2
He's seen that face before, he's sure of it.
Finding his way back to her and the others then... it'd been a lot simpler, hadn't it.]
I.
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