If you were told you were going to die, what would you do?
That question has been thought about countless times by man, and it always received an answer of some sort. But when you truly knew you were going to die, the answer you had devised for that question seemed so far away and forgotten.
Allen Walker's answer too, was far away and faded.
He had never thought of it much, his death that is, but when he learned of the 14th he knew that the answer to that question wasn't so easy to give. So he decided on what he thought would be a valiant way to go, continue fighting until every last inch of his life was gone.
However when the 14th, his uncle, started talking to him he realized that he truthfully would not die, there would be no such sweet deliverance. It was devastating, more so than thinking he just wouldn't be anymore, which was already a huge blow to his disposition.
To be able to sense everything around him, feel everything around him, and do nothing about it was a terrible thought. When the 14th took over, that would be his reality; he'd be trapped within his own body and unable to do anything.
But when they found his broken body on the floor, the Order didn't know what to think of it.
Why would Allen Walker, their boy wonder, jump from the roof?
They didn't realize that no matter how much they thought of him as some pillar of hope, an Apostle of God, he was just a 16-year old boy. A boy could do only so much before he broke, and he was such a boy despite their beliefs.
So when they found him they pushed the blame on the 14th, saying he may have attempted to take over Allen's body and in a desperate struggle for control they fell off of the roof.
It was a petty excuse and there were many holes to the story, but they couldn't dare think that they might have played a role in his suicide.
A role so much greater than the one the 14th played.
Constantly the white-haired boy was given the job to be the bright hope for the Order, the comforting smile always there.
It was his love of humanity, and the Order he held so dear, that had driven him to the extent that he was stretched out so far holes were starting to form. Finally, when those holes were noticed, they were blamed on the 14th, and only to a small extent was that true.
The Noah was only the little push that placed him near breaking, and the cracks only began to form when he was accused of heresy. All the whispers behind his back, the glares of betrayal, and the cold shoulder he received from all had gotten to him.
Bit by bit his perfect mask, his fragile, porcelain mask, began to crack, and crack, and crack, until it finally shattered.
For he could not fathom why he was so hated, all he did was give and give without asking for anything but acceptance in return. But because of something he had no control over whatsoever, he was shunned by the people he would sacrifice himself for without a moment's hesitation.
He had never been a lucky boy.
So soon after the news, he himself shattered when he hit the ground.
No longer did he have the energy to smile that hideously fake smile, even though he knew that if he tried just a bit harder he may have prevailed.
But his strength too, had only been an act.
For he was but a boy, forced to bear arms, and fight a war that no one came back from.
I wrote this up and proofread it last night at like.... 3 or 4 in the morning, so it's probably real iffy. But I'm too lazy to check it over again.
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