[Open]

[sublimated]

Method: Action or prose
Who: Kanda and anyone who wants to run into him.
Where: Poring Island
When: February 1, around midday
What: Killing little blobs of sentient jelly is about the farthest thing from Kanda's mind.

Comments

[crossgraved]

Since finding some time to explore the little island they had settled upon, Allen had decided he really had very limited interest in dealing the jelly blobs their unexpected doom. While he could see the logic in training inexperienced fighters basic combat strategies on these things, he himself found them relatively inoffensive and didn't feel that poking them would ultimately teach him anything at all. If he were of a different mind set, he might have found the suggestion insulting, but as the matter stood he was just kind of curious of the things.

He'd come to find them non-aggressive and kind of entertaining, easy to pick up and pile onto one another for a moment or two before they toppled off each other and blobbed around quite contently. It was a way to pass time and distract himself, but Allen did recognise that he was distracting himself from thinking too closely about the other more important dilemmas surrounding the present situation

[sublimated]

The startled cry of distress was certainly not what Kanda had been expecting to hear. It came completely without warning from beyond a copse of trees, and the suddenness of it seemed to startle a flock of birds there which took quickly to the air.

He certainly couldn't identify who had made the sound or what exactly had happened to them, but his brain didn't pick those points out to dwell on anyway.

Kanda didn't so much decide to go to the aid of whomever it was, so much as simply find himself on his feet, sword in hand, leaping in long strides down the little bluff and running the short distance to the tree line. However apathetic he had been these past days, by the time he realized what he was, seemingly reflexively, going to do, it didn't occur to him to stop and just not do it.

He bolted passed the treeline and through the undergrowth, never breaking his stride, and already could see the light of the clearing beyond. And in it, something large. ...And pink.

[crossgraved]

This was, without a doubt, not one of Allen's finer moments by any means. There he was, an exorcist (until otherwise dismissed) of the Black Order, a soldier, a capable and well-versed fighter, sprawled out on his back under the assault... of porings. Granted, one of them was especially large and was doing a fairly decent job of pressing its weight down upon him, but the others were sort of casually boffing at his legs and face. He was in the process of managing to grab one off of his face and toss it to the side when his entire head was enveloped by the large pink mass above him.

It was around that point that Allen Walker realised that if this continued his ultimate fate was going to be suffocation by jelly. There was something so utterly humiliating in that thought that he began to thrash wildly with muffled noises of resistance, his limbs flailing as he tried desperately to grab or shove any part of the giant glob of jelly to bring himself closer to air again.

Through the large pink blob upon his chest, Allen thought he could see

[sublimated]

The momentum of Kanda's run carried him through the last of the trees and into the clearing, and there he slowed to a standstill, stopped, and for a moment simply stared.

The jelly was huge. Far bigger than him. It stood nearly as tall as a small tree and easily as wide. That in and of itself might have been enough to warrant a stare, but not near so much as the too-easily identifiable legs and torso struggling to try and free their upper half.

That absolute, complete, unrivaled IDIOT! What the hell was he even supposed to be doing? Was he trying to get himself killed? And not even by a proper foe, but by a damn overgrown dessert