act and react; speak and follow. [open]

[purpletaint]

Who: purpletaint and whoever!
What: Let's internalize, pieces and part, of what comprises us; what moves us forward.
Where: Wherever you want to be.
When: The current event. Now.

Continued from here. There exists massive tl;dr within.

Comments

you look fine to me. ^^

[purpletaint]

The voice that called out was barely heard. Another voice of many, moving around in his mind--outside of it? Albedo could hardly tell. For there was red on his hands and red was the color of hair upon the corpse feet away, and how much had he imagined and how much had happened, for his twin was lying dead with the face of a beast, and yet, wasn't that quite fitting? Shouldn't the beast who ruined earth for hell and trampled heaven lay there in his own blood until rot settled, because no, his twin did not regenerate, Rubedo did not, Nigredo did not, and Albedo did, and would, and both of them would die.

He inhaled on a gasp, sobs bursting forth on the exhale. Knees to his chest, he curled his arms around them and bowed his head into them, wanting to forget. To forget? Wasn't he fine, perfect with how things were? Why, then, would it matter if his brothers died? Why would it matter if Rubedo did not love him? Why would it matter if Albedo killed Rubedo instead of the other way around?

The second time the voice called out was clearer, and Albedo lifted his head, face red from crying. A figure, was it? Another monster, creature to disguise with lies or truth? The color came as red and Albedo felt a part of him die further. No, he wouldn't be able to deal with this a second time. He'd kill the part of him that was left that cared, and kill it without a glance backwards.

But the person came closer and the height was off. Hair length, eye color. And Albedo only stared up at the person, sniffing despite himself, as tears kept running from his eyes.

Oh, he hated himself. This was true, and he'd admit it, now more than most. He hated himself more than the one who had abandoned him in every way there was.

[tellmeiamreal]

Luke stumbled to a halt, eyes wide in surprise. This...this was not what he expected. In fact, he wasn't sure what he expected, and was that blood?!

He rubbed his eyes, just in case the whole thing was a hallucination. It wasn't.

Luke crouched down and very gingerly touched the shoulder of the boy in front of him, partly not to frighten him and partly because Luke still wasn't quite sure what he was seeing. A part of brain knew it was irrational to expect to see a ghost from his past but his heart had been so desperately set on saving the boys life that it had blown away all sense of logic.

"Hey?" he asked very softly. "Are you okay?"

so sorry for the delay

[purpletaint]

Even as the man moved to touch him, Albedo did not pull away as he might have otherwise. Did not bare his teeth and snarl like a wild animal, did not attack the hand that reached out, only allowed it, something dead in his eyes. Red hair, green eyes, and it was like both brothers were still haunting him in this. Unlike his darling siblings, gone beyond his reach, this man's eyes were soft, and vaguely Albedo wondered if this person had killed others.

And then the other spoke, and kindness was too much to offer. Kindness was not given to Albedo, and even this--likely more politeness than any care--was far too much for his fragile psyche's current state. His face crumbled again, tears blinking their way downward, and for the first time in this place, Albedo's voice was more like a child, like he apparently was, than anything else. "...No," was the mumbled answer. His lips moved as if to speak further but nothing was said.

[tellmeiamreal]

Luke looked down in sympathy. He was just a kid, probably lost and all alone, obviously in dire need of help. And Luke had an obligation to help him. Again he thought of the boy who had died crying in terror, sinking into the deadly Qlippoth while Luke had watched, unable to stop it.

Guilt twisted inside him. Guilt and shame. Luke still could have sworn he had heard that boy from his past calling him, but there was no one else here. Still, it almost felt like they were being watched. He shivered.

The blood snapped him back to attention and he ripped off a piece of his jacket to use as a makeshift bandage. He felt a brief moment of concern for his clothes, since there was no one here to purchase a replacement for him, but he forced it aside. Now was not the time to be a selfish member of the nobility.

"Here," he said, doing his best to wrap the cloth around the boy's wound. Life was so much easier with Fonic Artes and gels, he reflected.

[purpletaint]

The man began to move strangely, and for a moment, Albedo could not comprehend the act. He gazed at the man dumbly, watching as he tore his clothes, and it was only when he reached out, touched cloth to skin that Albedo understood. And nothing like an irregularity of self to press one back into how they should be. The cloth moved against Albedo's skin, and blood wiped off, revealing flawless flesh beneath. No skin the boy had ever been injured at all. No sign that sharp teeth had tore into him and ripped out the delicate veins in his throat. Only nothing. It was far too appropriate.

Albedo reached up then, grinning on habit, though the expression lacked any sign of enjoyment. His hand touched the man's wrist and pressed it away, the other hand gripping his own throat. He giggled once, a choking sound, then shook his head. "Do you see any injury?" he asked, not unkindly. "No... No, nothing broken in me is so easily fixed as that." Cut him into shreds and rend him utterly, and he would only regenerate. A thousand other countless tortures and Albedo would stand fine in the end. Torment, the shards of a soul wearing thin, came in far different forms.

[tellmeiamreal]

Luke leapt backwards as if he'd been bitten.

What the hell--?

He gaped, then shook his head like a dog, as if he could shake off his confusion so easily.

I was mistaken, he told himself. That had to have been it.

"I'm sorry," he said awkwardly. "I thought...I thought you might have been hurt..."

He let his voice trail off weakly. Dropping his now bloodstained hands to his side, Luke shuddered. Just what the hell was wrong with this place? Why couldn't he trust his own senses? Luke honestly didn't know if he should feel like an idiot, or-

-or if he should be frightened.

"Is everything okay?" he asked. He almost dreaded the answer.

[purpletaint]

Albedo's mind shifted, the broken pieces grating against each other. Surely there should be some allowance for kindness, shouldn't there? But habits were ill-suited to the environment, and instinct told him more to pry at this one, press against the obvious tells. The man moved backwards in shock, and violet eyes followed the motion, staring. Albedo remained where he was--he had no want to move at the moment. One leg slid out from his grasp, straightening on the ground. "I was hurt," he said plainly. "My throat was ripped out before I killed what attacked me."

As if that made any sense at all. It was sense enough to him.

Albedo blinked once, and then his gaze dropped, an arm curling around his head. "Is everything okay?" Not... not at all. In any way. His other hand gestured at the ground, gore and blood strewn. "...Does it look okay?"

The question the man had asked was probably more something else than what was plain to the eye, but Albedo had no patience--no mind--for any of that. Best to wipe it away, clean and cold as the Song, and not think of it. Best to press it into reason, and remember who Albedo had become, and not who he had been.

Again, he blinked, and his eyes cleared slightly. "More of the ghosts that reside here," he went on. "I really should have expected something."

[tellmeiamreal]

Luke took an involuntary step back. There were ghosts here all right. And this boy is one of them.

"I'm sorry," he said, and winced inwardly. Once, he would have baulked at the very idea of saying sorry to anyone, but things had changed, he had changed, and now Luke often found himself apologising too much for his own good.

Guy wouldn't approve, he thought. Neither would Asch.

He straightened, and glowered down at the boy.

"Who are you?", he demanded. "What are you?" His fingers itched to draw the sword that was holstered on his back, but he didn't dare. Only if I absolutely have to, he decided. Drawing a weapon rarely helped anything.

[purpletaint]

The shifts were wonderful to see, and the obvious human reaction in them was quaint. The stereotypical reaction to something unknown made itself as fear or anger, and came through as hostility. This one was showing that clearly. It was familiar enough for Albedo to focus on. Enough of what wasn't to be something to distract, keep to. Something that was not a tone near to his own, a face too wanted to do anything but hate.

He cocked his head at the man pleasantly, smiled. "An apology and then a demand? My, my. What manners." Albedo shook his head, sighing, a hand going to his knee to brace himself as he stood. He blinked lazily, apparently at ease despite everything. An utter contrast from a few minutes prior.

But here--Albedo would actually answer close to truthfully. Half in respect for the man's brief show of unexpected care, and half his own whim, a test in form. "Albedo, is what I'm called. For what I am... There's never been a more difficult question." He grinned suddenly, lips pulling back from teeth. "Would it be easier to tell you I'm a monster?"

[tellmeiamreal]

Luke shook his head, refusing to believe it.

"No. No. Stop it, you're just a kid, you're just..."

He trailed off. Being in denial wasn't helping. Getting angry wouldn't help either, even if he did feel like he'd been tricked.

"What do you want?" Luke asked. His tone was a little softer this time. No use provoking him he thought.

[purpletaint]

First denial, and Albedo could but paint the scene. There was a flow to these kinds of things, and the man was following them. Hostility of anger, denial, and then? Would rage only follow? A perfect end to a scene like this. Albedo did not know the man, but what did that matter in the end? There was only what was, and here, there was but the one in front of him.

But the scenario shifted without notice, and Albedo was left in want. The potent energy died, and the man trailed off, and then only asked softly something Albedo could not answer. Not when others had put the question to him, be it family or otherwise, Dai or Max, and here as well, Albedo could not answer in all truth. And the boy, the weapon, the entity in form and name would not lie as such.

His posture loosened, tension slipping from his form, and the half-mocking expression gave to only show tiredness. "Nothing you can give me." There was a beat, then Albedo tipped his head, raising his eyebrows. "Give me your name."

[tellmeiamreal]

Luke narrowed his eyes. Was this a trap? It was almost like one of those fairy tales Natalia used to read to him. Tell the monster your name and he'll own your soul forever.

He scowled. This is silly, he thought. What do I have to be afraid of? But this was a self-confessed "monster" in front of him, and he seemed to have the strange abilities to back up his claim.

He frowned. "How about you give me yours first?"

...pretends LJ and computer didn't fail.

[purpletaint]

The man played hard to get, and at another time, Albedo would play in force. As it was, he was not yet himself. He looked up at the other, sighing slightly. "Albedo, is what I'm called," he answered.

Then again stared, blinking once. "And yourself?"

I'm sorry, I completely forgot

[tellmeiamreal]

"Luke," he answered warily. "Luke von Fabre." There was no real point in trying to keep his identity a secret, he guessed. This wasn't Malkuth.

He sighed. "So what now?" he asked nervously. "If you don't need my help I'll get going."

Except he was lost and alone in a haunted forest with some kind of demon child with no maps or supplies and only the sword on his back to protect himself. Damn it. How the hell was he supposed to get out of here?

How was he supposed to go home?

no worries~ this is a long backthread anyway. =P

[purpletaint]

The name was instantly taken and placed into memory. At a time when Albedo was more himself (less himself?), he would follow up on the man, see exactly what type he defined himself as. As things stood....

The boy sighed quietly, shifted his gaze over to the rolling fog. "So what now..." he repeated, considering. What movement could be made from this point? Albedo glanced back at Luke, expression shuttered. "I don't need your help." As that was the question, more or less, and the other wanted his freedom. He had came to help a wounded child and found something else instead. If it wasn't so ironic, Albedo might take pity. As things were, it was too awkward, too off.

A part of him, small and barely left, almost wanted to thank the man. Instead the boy shook his head, remaining where he was.