Dream a Dream

[dark_thespian]

Characters: Allen Walker and YOU
When: During the Dreamscape event
Where: Inside Allen's dreams.
Rating: Subject to change.
Summary: Within the mind of Allen Walker many things lie in wait for those that explore it.

Comments

[dreams_are_mine]

Rhode watched the battle for a while, the grinning chess pieces, black versus white. When the first black king fell, she touched her cheek, to make sure there weren't any tears there. Just to make sure. When the second black king fell, a smirk tugged at her features, the clattering of the crown too loud as the armies stopped. Waiting

[dark_thespian]

The gray knight stands before her as she speaks and shakes his head when she asks him if he would champion for the Black Army. No. His time with them

[dreams_are_mine]

Rhode watches, frowning. She marches through the snow, ignoring the memory/dream of Akuma, of Allen. Ignoring the shadowy background people, the landscape itself.

"I don't want to watch this." She complains, hands still dripping blood on the snow, a trail of dark black instead of red in ever place she steps--spreading slowly from each drop of blood like a toxic corruption.

[dark_thespian]

As she walks away from the scene, that strange visage of Allen is back, crafted from gray light and intangible. It comes to a stop before her and peers down at her with the naked sword held point low so as to not harm her. Then what, do you wish to see?

The voice of this aspect of the boy she knows rumbles like thunder. He watches her from behind his mask and gestures about him. You picked this way.

[ahandsomedevil]

Horst watches, truly bothered by the look of panic on the gray man's face. He moves carefully, letting his feet sink through the snow; his skin is so cold it doesn't melt when it sinks through his shoes, so it doesn't bother him.

The safest place, he figures, is near that gray figure--at least for now. He's alert, ready to dart away faster than light the second there's too much danger.

"Who's winning?" he asks softly, to anyone.

[dark_thespian]

The gray figure doesn't turn away from the scene where the black king fell. His horror turns to grief as he hangs his head and hunches his shoulders. Gone. In the breath of a moment the king was gone. "Does it matter so much?" He whispered loud enough for Horst to hear. "All this suffering and pain, over and over again." And for what? He couldn't understand it. "I don't get it." He doubted he ever would.

[ahandsomedevil]

Horst thinks the same thing: for what?

All wars have the same result, at least on the surface. The reasons are rarely different, and though he knows some things must be fought for, he also knows it's because other methods have failed.

He looks up at the gray figure, and cautiously puts a hand on its shoulder. "What do they say they're fighting for?"

[dark_thespian]

The figure seems clown-like one moment and a knight the next as it peers at the battlefield again. "The world. Whether it should be destroyed or protected." It sighs and scrubs at its face with both hands. "At least, that's what I thought. In the beginning that's what it seemed to be." Now. Now he didn't know. He stands beside Horst and sighs.

"I don't know what to do."

[mister_hatter]

"Allen. Psst. Allen."

Merry waving, from behind one of the fallen pieces near the edge of the board.

"Come over here! Shh."

[dark_thespian]

The gray figure flickers, as if there's a lingering sense Break should be trusted with how things really look. The figure ripples again between the knight and Allen himself as a knight. Yet he drifts through the battlefield towards the man and stands before him. "Yes?"

[mister_hatter]

"Run away with me?"

Holding a hand out to him.

"The fighting is useless."

[dark_thespian]

Allen stares at the hand offered to him and shuts his eyes. Silently he reaches out and takes Break's hand. Part of him yearns to be far from the battlefield. It is that part that leaves the knight. Everything shifts=

--

The snow falling all around you is normal again, a crisp white that covers the land. You're on the outskirts of a circus. It isn't much but your eye is drawn to the boy sitting bitterly in a cage. His features are familiar but the hair is longer and pulled back. His eyes are guarded, the emotions to be in them in later years not yet born. He draws his knees up to his chest and for a second there's a flick of the boy he will become.

Red Arm, not yet named Allen looks directly at you with a scowl on his face. "What do you want?" He growls but doesn't uncurl.

[purebloodmight]

Tom doesn't appear surprised. In fact, his hands are in his pockets, and he's perfectly relaxed. He knows how it feels, to be within someone else's mind... the question is how did he manage to do this without actually doing this.

It isn't like Harry Potter's dream, where Tom had been so thrilled to see Hogwarts again that he had forgotten himself. No, this is definitely something new...

And so Tom approaches slowly.

"You would have more success with magic."

[dark_thespian]

"Be it magic, or any means of a higher power," The Knight says as he turns to face Tom Riddle, flickering between clown and back. "It is sorrowful to see it go on like this. Neither side is better than the other." He says as he spreads his hands. "Even when there is no other recourse but to fight, we do not fight simply for the sake of it. There is always a reason to fuel a man's desire to take up arms."

[purebloodmight]

"Of course," Tom responds smoothly, head tilted slightly as he watches the Knight flicker. "People are extraordinarily easy to manipulate. History proves that."

Tom glances around the Knight to get a better look.

"What are you fighting for?"

[dark_thespian]

From behind the mask the clown narrows his eyes and the knight looms taller. He doesn't agree with Tom's view in the slightest. The gray one looks at the warriors on the battlefield while the wind tosses his hair. "To protect the world - to protect everyone."

[halflingfox]

Fox watches the fallen king crumble to dust, her eyes wide in surprise. She looks again to the grey figure, wondering if she should say something to them. She isn't one to give solace, though, but instead steps forward. She's used to taking an active role in her dreams, after all, and still hasn't figured out that these strange dreams aren't her own. She reaches down for the black king's crown, fully intending to take it up and join the battle. After all, it's only a dream, right?

[dark_thespian]

The grey figure turns to her, silently as if the pivotal decision to be made prompted it. "Are you sure? This is not your war." He has no designs on the crown and he turns to face the other black and white figures - the chess pieces with a sigh. "It is your choice."

[halflingfox]

So the grey figure sees her. She straightens and looks at him seriously. "Whose side are you on? It looks like this isn't your war, either."

[dark_thespian]

"It is my war too." He says as he comes to stand beside her. "Just because I don't fully agree with either side, doesn't mean I don't have a stake in it." He dips his head once. "You who reach for the crown, what are your designs? Your wishes? Do you wish to throw this war back into the thousands of years of fighting? Or something else?"