- Of Which Brings Forth -
-oOo-
There's nothing you can do.
-oOo-
A child whose never been sheltered involuntarily grasps abyss, when life becomes vague and brittle. Freedom is all he ever has. Time be a completely imprecise case, differently from his freedom, in all theatrical truth, for his intellect needn't be vast to comprehend his limitations bound to him. Decisions initially are your own, whereas for him, it be his and another's. The boy knew as much, sensing in a surrealistic haze, this other within.
This boy could sense this other through the throbbing throes over and down his left eye, throughout his skull's left side, where pools of blood splotched, gliding down his cheek to drip from his chin.
Physical pain faltered his mutual inner pangs - losing a father and friend - held most dear to his half-beating heart - strikes a toll upon anyone. Though this boy isn't just anyone. This buried clown wasn't just a dead clown. This was the clown whom brought Allen to life, whom also plows him to the grave. Deeper-deeper-deeper.
-oOo-
Vulnerability reeks from your soul.
-oOo-
Peculiarly a voice echoed inside his seemly mindless head, spelling gibberish. Though it goes most thoroughly unnoticed, he heard acceptance and other words coaxing him not to prolong what his fate is, perhaps something less intense.
The presence of a man became known minutes ago, however. His hair a brilliant vermillion, a mask concealing half his face, the large hat never making quite the darkest shadows. The gold trimmings and shimmering cross of sorts nearly mesmerizing, if Allen were to look at these details, at least. He acknowledged this man; not his appearance.
"The souls trapped in Akuma are powerless; they are forever captive, and they become dangerous toys for the Millenium Earl."
Allen watched the steam rise from Mana's metal skeleton, which his arm just destroyed. The man came closer to him as he spoke, a gold sphere swishing a golden tail, sitting atop his hat. For nothing better to do, considering the circumstances, Allen listened, perplexed.
"The only way to save an Akuma is to destroy them." The tall man knelt down beside Allen, staring at his deformed left arm, specifically the glowing cross. "Ah, a human born with an anti-Akuma weapon. What an unfortunate fate. You also appear to be an apostle possessed by God."
The vibrantly red-haired man gently settled his hand on Allen's shoulder, and the youth looked directly into his similarly vibrant red eye. "How would you like to be an Exorcist?"
-oOo-
Choosing finalities when already forced a fate...
-oOo-
"Excuse me, Chief!"
Komui and the dozen occupants in the meeting room, eyed Reever Wenhamm, whom urgently barged in. The door slammed fiercely against the concrete wall, resonating a loud thud-echo through the room of irritated, confused, and even amused women and men.
"Section Leader Reever!" Komui exclaimed ghastly, shocked more than angry.
Reever knew better than to disrupt a conference with Central here. Then, General Cross Marian's absence became subjected to discussion when he was ordered there for the meeting.
"Chief," Reever panted. "General... The General, he brought a boy-" A agonizing, ear-piercing scream reverberated through Headquarters, chilling many, causing most to jump suddenly out of fear or surprise.
Reever glanced back briefly, turning to Komui, who stood up from hearing the scream.
"General Cross found an accomodator," Reever explained hastily. "He's severely wounded, I think."
It took but mere minutes for Exorcists, scientists, and Finders to gather near the hospital wing, where General Cross was currently battling the violently writhing child, attempting to restrain Allen. The nurses have tried to inject anesthesia, of which Allen savagely refused and Cross specifically ordered them to stay back.
"Medicine won't work!" he repeatedly screamed when nurses and Matron constantly tried to approach them again.
-oOo-
Can be dire in consequences.
-oOo-
"Who is he, General?" Komui demanded when the boy abruptly silenced, terror tingeing his dark eyes, often casting concerned glances at his younger sister, who refused to leave.
Cross warily removed pressure from the boy's shoulders, never taking his visual attention further than his face's left side. Who remained in the room, and those who could peek in through the opened doors, who also hadn't gone because of the awful screaming was unbearable to listen to, watched either the General or Allen.
"Allen," was Cross' simple answer.
Swiftly taking his coat off and tossing both it and his hat on a nearby bed, a foreboding dread swelled up inside the usually calm man. Originally the idea was to take Allen to Mother's home, yet something deemed it wrong, thus quickly and precariously, Cross brought Allen the farther distance to Headquarters, luckily before his screaming began.
-oOo-
Pain of a wretched curse domains soul.
-oOo-
Days. Nights. Mornings. Afternoons. The screaming rarely ceased over the course of weeks, till the painful cry could no longer be heard, as it had long since scratched his throat, clawed his voice to nothing but hurdled air needing a voice. Allen screamed silently afterwards, writhing from the pain endlessly, clenching bed sheets and whoever happened to be in reach. Grasping something with iron strength of desperation, diminished little pain, yet to a minor state it helped. Cross hardly left his side, only when he was certain the boy wouldn't leave his bed, when he was certain he was asleep. Either would work, for Allen never tried to move unless in pain, nor had he succumbed to much sleep. Perhaps the former was more reasonable in the circumstance, however unnecessary to mention.
The four other Generals contained their presence within Headquarters. Scientists struggled to achieve work, either concerned about the boy they knew nothing about, or merely disturbed, for they have yet a connection with said child to concern themselves with worrying about him too much. Other Exorcists would come in and out, cringing at the sound, some worried about their comrade.
No one worried more than Cross, and next to him was Lenalee, as well as her brother and the Generals save Winters Sokalo. Cross worried of him dying. Allen never moved. Never spoke. Never changed positions, not shifting ever so slightly from his curled up ball pose that trembled furiously, eyes wide in horror, grief, agony...
A red split ran down his face where he had been sliced, of which few know the reason why. Young Lenalee was one of the few. His face became scarred with a pentacle above the left eye. His hair had changed prematurely pure white from trauma.
Of new scars and turmoil, pain inflicted to his heart paralyzed him. Cross amused and further surprised Black Order members by taking care of Allen. Later being forced to feed him - Allen never ate throughout the duration by his own motions. Eventually changing Allen's clothes - always he wet or stink himself, if you catch the subtle riddle. Should one stay up late, you would often hear Cross muttering to himself about Allen and the situation.
-oOo-
Golden, opposite of silver, flickers...
-oOo-
One night, when the bright crescent moon lingered in the star polluted night skies, Cross wearily sat in a wooden chair, half slouching forward. Timcanpy, his remarkably huge golden golem, sat in his lap. His hair was tugged back in a rubberband, red eyes never separating from Allen, casted in both moonlight and shadows in the room.
Does Allen even know Cross is there?
Where he is?
"So you loved Mana that much, huh?"
Allen never answered, curling more in a fatal position. Not scowling, neither smiling, Cross gazed more directly at Allen, somewhat softly. The boy should be no important than dust. What was inside him mattered to Cross. The hell if I care, he so many times said during the month, mostly when Yeager, Tiedoll, and Komui persisted to ask why he behaved so tenderly, you could say, and question Cross as well as the newfound accomodator.
"C'mon, Allen," Cross sighed weakly. "Do you remember what he used to always say?"
"Never stand still. Always keep walking."
Tears glimmered in the corner of Allen's eyes; Mana, the stupid clown, appearing in his mind's eye, where Allen was joyfully, jovially, hugging his father.
-oOo-
In those eyes time to time.
-oOo-
Allen spoke then.
Like Mana, his father.
Unlike himself, who possessed a vile mouth.
That old impertinence.
Allen had been the opposite of Mana Walker in every way possible. Now-now he spoke like him, and the results sent Cross thrilled whilst somewhat angry to his room to ponder over these new occurrences.
And the journey is only just beginning.
A/N : Disclaimer: I don't own D. Gray -man.