[Dream / Accidental Video : Week 19, Day 7] ~ so I can barely see your face ~
It's an evening, and there are three kids laying in beds in a small inn room; in one there's a little girl with pigtails, blanket pulled up to her chin, and in another, two boys, one with messy brown hair and somewhat cat-like features, and the other with a short black ponytail, sitting up by the edge of the bed and looking very displeased about the situation. There's a chair between the beds, three tiny Exorcist coats hanging on its back, and a middle-aged man with a fairy-tale book sitting on it.
"...and they lived happily ever after," he finishes reading and smiles at the children, closing the book.
There's a small silence, and then little Daisya laughs a bit. "That's awesome, old man," he says, sounding genuinely excited, and grins. "When I grow up, I'm going to beat a monster and marry a princess with a fancy dress, too!"
Little Kanda just keeps scowling. "This is the stupidest shit I've ever heard," he states, earning a concerned look from the General.
"But Yu, fairytales are a good thing," he reassures. "You shouldn't look at it so strictly." The boy grumbles and doesn't answer.
Little Lenalee has a somewhat determined pout on, and Kanda, knowing her well as he does, can practically hear her exclaim in her mind that she is going to fight to become strong and grow up pretty like the princess from the fairytale, and have a long poofy pretty dress like hers, and, well, like... hers, and that similarity just makes him hate it all the more; there's nothing good about it, it's just confusing. Lenalee seems to like all this family stuff, earlier that day she even asked if she could go on missions with them more often; sadly that depended on the current Supervisor and not them.
Well, as long as she had her happy moments.
Daisya grins, as he doesn't seem to be planning to let this go just yet, and lightly nudges the grumpball that's finishing to steal all the covers they're supposed to share.
"Don't you like princesses, Kan~da?"
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
"Wait!"
...She runs through the field laughing, not listening, her long poofy skirt that makes her look a little princess-like and the sunflowers rustling softly as she moves between them. The sun is shining almost directly into his eyes, and raising an arm in front of himself doesn't help.
As he squints though, he can see that she's smiling. Smiling a wide, happy, cheerful smile, reminding him of a number of idiots that he knows. But he still can't see her face.
Never her face.
"Who.. are you?"
He still doesn't know, even if he maybe could describe the feeling he gets when he sees her, though it seems to exceed his vocabulary whenever he actually tries. At least he's capable to recognize it when he feels it again, but it doesn't help much because he doesn't know, and he wants to. Because he needs to ask --
He's not sure what it is.
So he goes with what seems the most obvious, even though there's a small voice in the back of his mind telling him that it isn't the right question, and that maybe that's why she doesn't ever answer him, and that maybe that's why he can never see her clearly. Maybe...
The arm that is trying to cover his eyes from the sun is not his, it was never his, every time he turns to the side he sees it coming out of a tangled wall of flowers right behind him, unable to see what's behind it. But it feels like it belongs to him, because it moves, until the hand stops raised into the air right in front of his face.
And then he can't move it anymore.
It's annoying, because he wants to see, but as he looks to the side yet again, he's frozen as the arm is, in fact, coming out of his own body. And not listening to him. In fact, he can no longer feel his heartbeat, either. A demonic, giggling shape leaves the corner of his vision, and he recognizes it as so well-known to him feel of death.
It's him, that feeling belongs to him as he knows himself, but then... This is also him.
Your new life, it's always been a lie, a little Noah girl sings as corpses pile around him. Poor Yu, always an experiment, never a friend.
That's not true, he wants to say but he can't speak at all as fearful eyes of his comrades turn bleary and dead, and the weapon falls out of his hands. He's Yu, Yu Kanda, an Exorcist, he was created just nine years ago --
Why do you always call her 'that person', I wonder? Is it because you're trying to put a distance between your worlds? You silly, poor thing.
She laughs and breaks along with the blood, the scenery falling around like shards of a broken mirror and fading away.
The young woman in an old-fashioned princess dress is right there once again, just out of his reach, a silhouette in front of the sun laughing soundlessly as she turns away, glancing back at him, playfully almost, as he finally realizes what he's really wanted to ask all of this time.
"Who.. am I?"
Everything freezes, and then there's just blackness. He can't see anything, anything at all, and when faint blue light starts shining, there's no more field, no more her and no more of that maimed body. Instead, he's sitting sideways to a perfectly still water wall, upside-down lotuses floating all around in the space.
"You'll always be Yu to me," a familiar voice pipes in, and there's Alma's face sticking out of the water as he grins and eyes him. Kanda twitches and introduces Alma's face to his palm, pushing him away while jumping to his feet; not now, idiot, he was just about -- dammit, where did she go?
The world turns, and he falls through the even surface.
The last thing he sees before the silvery thick liquid swallows him is Alma whom he'd just shoved away. It's him, but it's not him; it's a doll, a puppet, smiling and waving at him happily but lifelessly, teeth clackling and joints clicking, hanging on thin long strands all gathered somewhere high up in the hands of the dollmaster that can't be seen, just a characteristical loving laugh echoes down to signify that it must be, in fact, The Maker, responsible for it all.
Kanda tries to reach out, because goddammit, how dare the damn Noah turn him into an Akuma, they are going to pay -- but he falls through, and for a moment, he's blind, because the sun is back.
But he hears the soft rustling of dress and sunflowers, and he knows that he's back.
"...Tell me," he demands, his hand outstretched but he has to close his eyes from the light, and he hears the dress rustling away, running, and he can't get up from where he is, staring up as the clouds travel through the blue sky several times quicker than normally. "I have to know..."
What is it?
"Who are we?"
His hand finally moves; he sees a brief flash of her face, finally seeing it even if for a moment but not recognizing it, just the strange feeling of longing - which he was always sure didn't belong to him but now he's feeling it is, after all, a definite part of him in some way he doesn't need to know despite of him remaining who he is - growing stronger.
And then his fingers reach the sun, touching impossibly hot surface, and slowly, terribly slowly crumble to dust the moment after, along with the rest of him. Maybe except his eyes, because he can now look down and see a small pile of ash, and a parchment-like piece of his skin with the tattoo on it on top of it.
When he looks up again, it's all gone black once more. Just a lone 'Om' symbol made out of flames burning where the beautiful blue sky was supposed to be.
It would just be poetic justice not to ever see heaven or hell for those demons created for war by humans playing God. What truly awaits those with their soul sublimated is nothingness.
~
Kanda is laying perfectly still under the covers, awake but practically not breathing, staring up into the ceiling. It takes a few long moments until he finally moves, slowly lifting his hands up until they're in front of his face, and stares at it. Those are his, definitely his. And... so are those that he's seeing in dreams and visions. All of it, parts of him, scattered and mixing, to the point where he just doesn't know anymore. He doesn't remember anything coherent, so he should still be him, and yet... It feels like there's still more to it than this. It's him, too.
He can't help but wonder if it's really true, though. Disappearing... No. He doesn't plan to do that anytime soon. He still wants his answers.
~
[ ooc: no, this is not yet an update - you may consider it a pre-update of sorts, really. Now he can accept his past as a part of himself. You may also notice some figures trailing in from the previous dream he's had, it's all slowly pushing into the direction of Alma, lol. Aaaaand the blue are more like memories in the dream (the Road bit is from his NMW encounter with her, kinda) while everything else is just messy dream, yup. Fun. ]
[pictures in a box at home
yellowing and green with mold
so I can barely see your face
wonder how that color taste]
"...and they lived happily ever after," he finishes reading and smiles at the children, closing the book.
There's a small silence, and then little Daisya laughs a bit. "That's awesome, old man," he says, sounding genuinely excited, and grins. "When I grow up, I'm going to beat a monster and marry a princess with a fancy dress, too!"
Little Kanda just keeps scowling. "This is the stupidest shit I've ever heard," he states, earning a concerned look from the General.
"But Yu, fairytales are a good thing," he reassures. "You shouldn't look at it so strictly." The boy grumbles and doesn't answer.
Little Lenalee has a somewhat determined pout on, and Kanda, knowing her well as he does, can practically hear her exclaim in her mind that she is going to fight to become strong and grow up pretty like the princess from the fairytale, and have a long poofy pretty dress like hers, and, well, like... hers, and that similarity just makes him hate it all the more; there's nothing good about it, it's just confusing. Lenalee seems to like all this family stuff, earlier that day she even asked if she could go on missions with them more often; sadly that depended on the current Supervisor and not them.
Well, as long as she had her happy moments.
Daisya grins, as he doesn't seem to be planning to let this go just yet, and lightly nudges the grumpball that's finishing to steal all the covers they're supposed to share.
"Don't you like princesses, Kan~da?"
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
"Wait!"
...She runs through the field laughing, not listening, her long poofy skirt that makes her look a little princess-like and the sunflowers rustling softly as she moves between them. The sun is shining almost directly into his eyes, and raising an arm in front of himself doesn't help.
As he squints though, he can see that she's smiling. Smiling a wide, happy, cheerful smile, reminding him of a number of idiots that he knows. But he still can't see her face.
Never her face.
"Who.. are you?"
He still doesn't know, even if he maybe could describe the feeling he gets when he sees her, though it seems to exceed his vocabulary whenever he actually tries. At least he's capable to recognize it when he feels it again, but it doesn't help much because he doesn't know, and he wants to. Because he needs to ask --
He's not sure what it is.
So he goes with what seems the most obvious, even though there's a small voice in the back of his mind telling him that it isn't the right question, and that maybe that's why she doesn't ever answer him, and that maybe that's why he can never see her clearly. Maybe...
The arm that is trying to cover his eyes from the sun is not his, it was never his, every time he turns to the side he sees it coming out of a tangled wall of flowers right behind him, unable to see what's behind it. But it feels like it belongs to him, because it moves, until the hand stops raised into the air right in front of his face.
And then he can't move it anymore.
It's annoying, because he wants to see, but as he looks to the side yet again, he's frozen as the arm is, in fact, coming out of his own body. And not listening to him. In fact, he can no longer feel his heartbeat, either. A demonic, giggling shape leaves the corner of his vision, and he recognizes it as so well-known to him feel of death.
It's him, that feeling belongs to him as he knows himself, but then... This is also him.
Your new life, it's always been a lie, a little Noah girl sings as corpses pile around him. Poor Yu, always an experiment, never a friend.
That's not true, he wants to say but he can't speak at all as fearful eyes of his comrades turn bleary and dead, and the weapon falls out of his hands. He's Yu, Yu Kanda, an Exorcist, he was created just nine years ago --
Why do you always call her 'that person', I wonder? Is it because you're trying to put a distance between your worlds? You silly, poor thing.
She laughs and breaks along with the blood, the scenery falling around like shards of a broken mirror and fading away.
The young woman in an old-fashioned princess dress is right there once again, just out of his reach, a silhouette in front of the sun laughing soundlessly as she turns away, glancing back at him, playfully almost, as he finally realizes what he's really wanted to ask all of this time.
"Who.. am I?"
Everything freezes, and then there's just blackness. He can't see anything, anything at all, and when faint blue light starts shining, there's no more field, no more her and no more of that maimed body. Instead, he's sitting sideways to a perfectly still water wall, upside-down lotuses floating all around in the space.
"You'll always be Yu to me," a familiar voice pipes in, and there's Alma's face sticking out of the water as he grins and eyes him. Kanda twitches and introduces Alma's face to his palm, pushing him away while jumping to his feet; not now, idiot, he was just about -- dammit, where did she go?
The world turns, and he falls through the even surface.
The last thing he sees before the silvery thick liquid swallows him is Alma whom he'd just shoved away. It's him, but it's not him; it's a doll, a puppet, smiling and waving at him happily but lifelessly, teeth clackling and joints clicking, hanging on thin long strands all gathered somewhere high up in the hands of the dollmaster that can't be seen, just a characteristical loving laugh echoes down to signify that it must be, in fact, The Maker, responsible for it all.
Kanda tries to reach out, because goddammit, how dare the damn Noah turn him into an Akuma, they are going to pay -- but he falls through, and for a moment, he's blind, because the sun is back.
But he hears the soft rustling of dress and sunflowers, and he knows that he's back.
"...Tell me," he demands, his hand outstretched but he has to close his eyes from the light, and he hears the dress rustling away, running, and he can't get up from where he is, staring up as the clouds travel through the blue sky several times quicker than normally. "I have to know..."
What is it?
"Who are we?"
His hand finally moves; he sees a brief flash of her face, finally seeing it even if for a moment but not recognizing it, just the strange feeling of longing - which he was always sure didn't belong to him but now he's feeling it is, after all, a definite part of him in some way he doesn't need to know despite of him remaining who he is - growing stronger.
And then his fingers reach the sun, touching impossibly hot surface, and slowly, terribly slowly crumble to dust the moment after, along with the rest of him. Maybe except his eyes, because he can now look down and see a small pile of ash, and a parchment-like piece of his skin with the tattoo on it on top of it.
When he looks up again, it's all gone black once more. Just a lone 'Om' symbol made out of flames burning where the beautiful blue sky was supposed to be.
It would just be poetic justice not to ever see heaven or hell for those demons created for war by humans playing God. What truly awaits those with their soul sublimated is nothingness.
~
Kanda is laying perfectly still under the covers, awake but practically not breathing, staring up into the ceiling. It takes a few long moments until he finally moves, slowly lifting his hands up until they're in front of his face, and stares at it. Those are his, definitely his. And... so are those that he's seeing in dreams and visions. All of it, parts of him, scattered and mixing, to the point where he just doesn't know anymore. He doesn't remember anything coherent, so he should still be him, and yet... It feels like there's still more to it than this. It's him, too.
He can't help but wonder if it's really true, though. Disappearing... No. He doesn't plan to do that anytime soon. He still wants his answers.
~
[ ooc: no, this is not yet an update - you may consider it a pre-update of sorts, really. Now he can accept his past as a part of himself. You may also notice some figures trailing in from the previous dream he's had, it's all slowly pushing into the direction of Alma, lol. Aaaaand the blue are more like memories in the dream (the Road bit is from his NMW encounter with her, kinda) while everything else is just messy dream, yup. Fun. ]
[pictures in a box at home
yellowing and green with mold
so I can barely see your face
wonder how that color taste]