[One door that normally remains shut and locked to the world is hanging open today. Judging by the decor inside, or lack thereof, the room had obviously once belonged to a Kanda ( Read more... )

[In a sunny, summer courtyard, there is a shirtless Allen (supposedly) snoozing under a cherry tree. He's laying on his stomach, arms wrapped around a pile of blood-red cloaks in a makeshift pillow. For the most part, he looks like he could be any other Allen, save for the elongated, twin scars on his shoulder blades ( Read more... )

[One of the hallways is filled with a monotonous ticking sound. Follow it, and you'll find Allen - still bandaged up in a few places from his ordeal with Kanda - scribbling furiously along the walls in one of the bare, empty rooms. His cloaks and furs lay in a rumpled pile next to a metronome sitting in the middle of the floor - that's where the ( Read more... )

[Is that blood? Why yes, yes it is. A lot of it ( Read more... )

[Hear that? It's definitely a piano, tinkering out a low melody. The tune is rather sad; soft and even, for the most part, at least until the player's fingers fumble and repeat the chords over again ( Read more... )

[There is an Allen standing in the middle of a neutral courtyard in which it is snowing quite heavily. He's staring curiously up at the sky, letting the falling snow soak into his hair, as well as the strange, deep-red cloak he's wrapped up in.

For all intents and purposes - he still thinks he's in his home world.]

... snow in August?

[[ ( Read more... )