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TDM 006: SPECTRAL SPECTACLE
| TDM 006: SPECTRAL SPECTACLE |
00. Arrival This time, you come out of the water, the Nameless Island's own inherent energy drawing people in. It's like being suspended between realities and abruptly pushed from behind through a rift in dimensions. It may make you sick, or that might be the motion of the ocean, lifting you to the surface and carrying you to shore. Waterlogged and covered in sand, new arrivals will be greeted by robots who welcome them with towels and bracelet devices. The A5 card is already loaded up. Feel free to explore the Island, though there isn’t much to see. Most of the buildings are abandoned and in dire need of repair, and beyond the city lingers a thick fog that obscures much of the wilderness from view. Wander too far into this fog, and you will find yourself mysteriously looping back to where you began, your memories of what you were doing and how you got there erased. With that in mind, it may be wise to stake your claim on a rundown apartment, a tent on the beach, or a bed in the “comfortable” new barracks. Your inventory will be found a day later, wrapped up haphazardly and delivered to each person's makeshift home. I. The Dragon's Matchmaking Welcome to the Island, cherub dragons! The auspicious actions of your fellow Islanders have foreseen the reintroduction of dragons to the world. Unlike the hulking, possessive creatures of ancient lore (and recent hot springs), these well-meaning little critters love to help. Their small size and roly-poly frames make them unsuited to laborious tasks, but they will be the perfect companion to any residents who endeavor to pick up a small item, wish for their lunch to be delivered to an absolute stranger, or need a fire started from a tiny, flaming sneeze in their drafty homes. If a cherub dragon sees an Islander they perceive in need of their assistance, they will zip right in and refuse to scram until they’ve done the job! No visible struggles? No problem! The little dragons also love to play matchmaker. Persistent dragons will gleefully nudge together Islanders they believe will have chemistry, and sometimes they aren’t wrong! Of course, even if sparks fail to fly, the dragons’ trilling songs are known to kindle romantic feelings between strangers and long-time lovers alike. II. Ruins While the Islanders have been enjoying their autumn relaxation, the ‘bots of Erku have been hard at work clearing the surrounding forests of dangers for their guests’ safe habitation. If you are of deft hand with monster slaying, forestry, or even just hauling debris and weed picking, the robots will gladly exchange credits for help with reconstructing the recently unearthed mountain temple grounds from the rubble that remains there. Just follow the path of gently glowing mushrooms to the site of the temple ruins. Beware of lurking creatures, grabby plants, and falling rocks!  The temple ruins are tall and breathtaking, despite the eerie chill of the fog that lingers just beyond. Or is it the fog that sends a shiver up your spine? After all, this place was very spiritually important to the original inhabitants of the Island, the robots say to anyone curious enough to ask. Although their own programming does not include religious worship, the Augur believes the restoration of this place to be vital to the continued augmentation of Eros energy. When questioned about the strange shadows that seem to slip from tree to tree, or the unsettling feeling of ghostly hands that seem to nudge volunteers deeper into the grounds, the robots respond with nothing but bafflement. Their sensors detect no unknown organic presence afoot. III. Ritual Islanders who chase those mysterious shadows may find themselves particularly drawn to a structure that lay deeper within the ruins, beyond where the robots have made the most progress. Three sets of crumbling, moss-covered stairs join to form a central platform, which - despite the overcast skies - seems to emit a soft glow. Those who step onto the platform may begin to hear a quiet, compelling voice, which urges them to be free of their inhibitions and to offer their energy to the spirits to be multiplied hundredfold. Visions of naked bodies in the throes of carnal worship dance before the eyes. Those who are especially spiritually sensitive - or perhaps, just lucky - may feel as if possessed by a consciousness that is not their own, and that consciousness is filled with a burning sexual desire. Leaving the platform is an option if alone, but the intense and overwhelming urge to seek companionship will persist until an Auspicious Act is completed. Those who are fortunate to be joined by company within the temple will feel compelled to worship right then and there, no matter the risk of being seen. Within the walls of the temple, Eros energy is enhanced such that any erotic act - big or small - will be enough to break the spell. N A V I G A T I O N |
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This boy was similar to her. In the modesty and intimacy department. It was clear their values align, even if it feels like they have different perspectives concerning certain topics.
That and she knew he wasn't interested in her. He hasn't stared at her in the way men usually have. Neither has he made any comments or made any assumptions due to it.
It was odd. Shouldn't she be happy to know he wasn't like that?
She won't have time to mull it over or even reason about it. Not when he made his decision -- he was coming!
Watching him in the corner of her eye, noticing the way he looked better than before, he was no longer skittish, if anything he looked more confident. Nike will watch him leave along with the white cloak before revealing her white holy dress once more.
She'll turn around to face him realizing he was very serious about all this. He really wanted to help the spirits! Her eyes may begin to gleam as she was more than relieved over all this.]
Right! We should go! [A pause. Taking a step by his side, she'll sheepishly add.] Together, this time...
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Honestly it's less about you Nike, and entirely everything to do with him crushing his feelings into a tight little ball.
Also it simply isn't the time or place to notice when a girl is pretty. Basically never, with his life... But especially when she's been shoved in his face so much about it by some nosy ghosts who can't mind their own business. ]
Mn. [ That light sort of smile, reassuring and certain. Is it real? Faked for her? For himself?
Yes. ] Together.
Don't worry. Just grab my hand really tight if they become too loud.
[ He waves her to follow him, and starts walking back up the stairs to the temple. Normally, this time. ]
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Not when he has successfully distracted her! Holding hands? It'll get her to blink because...]
...only when they get loud....?
[It was barely an audible whisper. She figured it may be best to allow the wind to carry it away. Her gaze will soften, looking down with the tiniest of smiles appearing.
Climbing the stairs behind him, Nike will take the time to absorb the surroundings, finding the temple area to be as beautiful as before even if covered by moss. The higher they go up the stairs, the stronger the tug was beginning to feel along with the return of the moving shadows. Her green eyes will notice all too quickly a slight cold push behind her which will encourage her to speak up.]
Hey! About what you said before...? I can only hold your hand when it gets louder?
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[ The way she asked that.. ]
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It's okay, he can feel them too. Faintly. ]
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A gloved hand appears before her. She will stare at it for a moment, considering it, but it would seem her hand did not get the memo because she'll end up accepting his offered hand.]
Why are you wearing gloves?
[That was her next curious question. When he was wearing the cloak, he wasn't wearing gloves, not exactly anyway. The color of the gloves was interesting, so it made her wonder.]
Is this your cloak disguised as a glove or....?
[Was it part of his current uniform? Which again, she will notice once more.]
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One step, then two. He'll keep leading them up the stairs by the hand like that; like he's used to doing such a thing, almost. ]
No, they're normal. [ Mostly. His whole uniform is made from unique fibers and specially made for his style of combat, but a lot of that honestly goes over his head. That's all Johnny and the science team, he just knows that they tell him it'll be effective and less annoying or constrictive than regular clothes. These gloves don't tear even when he invokes his claw form, that's all he knows and he's grateful for it. So's his wallet. ]
I've just worn gloves most of my life. [ In one form or another. ]
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[To learn the gloves were not the cloak in disguise, it surprised her a little. No, it very much did. His cloak was clearly made of magic. She knew that much. Along with the sharp claws on his left hand, she can't see them anymore. They disappeared as much as the white cloak did.
She wanted to see his hands after noticing that interesting detail. Where were the claws? How did he hide the hard armor-like item that felt very warm to the touch?]
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She caught onto that quick. ]
They're made of something special so they don't get ripped when I... change. [ He hesitates slightly over that. ] I don't understand it completely, to be honest.
It's just convenient.
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Before she was even able to figure out, the reason she is finding something out of place, she will feel another tug on the back of her mind once they both reached the top of the stairs. Nike will grow tense while her grip grows stronger almost signaling the appearance of the spirits.
She can sense something different about all this. There were now more spirits than their previous visit. Why? Nike will lower her head, thinking it over once more.]
...you still have time to leave. As long as we don't touch the platform, then we'll be okay...they can't touch us until we're entirely on it...
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It's fundamentally alarming, the way it wants him to succumb.
So even before she says anything he lets his eyes close and takes a small breath. It, ah... smells faintly of... cinnamon? Something woody. Soothing, but kind of spicy. Which is altogether something he's not certain is exactly that relaxing or relieving, because it makes no sense in this place and feels like it might be his mind playing tricks.
Sticky. It feels languid and kind of sticky. Like where he might want to just crawl into bed and spawl in a sleepy tangle.
So it startles him slightly when she speaks up, and says he can go. ]
...
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He squeezes her hand lightly in response, something both reassuring and reassured, and he can smile a bit more easily at her then than if she had said nothing.
A bit more honestly, too, as it's somewhat bittersweet. ]
It's alright. I told you before, didn't I?
I'm staying. Just squeeze my hand if you need something to focus on, okay? [ Again, he gives her a small squeeze as if to demonstrate. ]
I'll be right here no matter what. [ No matter what. He won't leave her; at most he'll yeet them both out. ]
You're going to be better at something like this than me. [ He says that like it's just so obvious. He's meant to fight akuma, after all. A very different thing. ]
So just let me help you remember who you're supposed to be.
[ Possession, after all, is one of the limited things he knows can happen regarding a regular ghost or spirit and has witnessed. ]
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The demonstration was very good to have because it will bring her back to the reality of the situation. Her cheeks will begin to flush as she looks away from his smile. It was still a sad one, and yet it was brimming with so many true emotions -- she couldn't help look away just to give her heart and nerves a shot to catch up.
Damn. What should she do? She didn't want to get him involved in all this. There was only one way to get the spirits to calm down. She wasn't prepared for it yet. To tell him, at least.
Then again, he does make a comment that piqued her curiosity: "You're going to be better at something like this than me". What is he saying? Isn't he an exorcist? Isn't it suppose to be his job to purify spirits as she does just in a different and more savage way?
Unless -- Does he know what she is? Has he figured out she wasn't entirely human? Can he sense that?
Nike will turn to Allen the moment she thought of it; however, she will feel the final push that will force her to move towards the platform. Again...? Why are they so insistent?
She will look down and allow the images from before to fill her mind. The positions, the sensations, the sounds, and just the experience of those memories will have her squeezing his hand very tightly. Please don't leave her alone. Please don't leave her at the last minute. Don't abandon her, not the way she has.
Ah, why was she remembering this now? Why? All she can do now was try to sing her song, but...]
Who am I supposed to be...? I wonder about that sometimes...
[Looking up at the ceiling for a moment, allowing the soft light from above shine delicately over them almost as if there was sunshine outside. She knew there wasn't. It was filled with clouds. The sky. Her beautiful blue sky, she was beginning to miss it even if she was taken deep into it, another dimension. Is it as blue as her own or a different color altogether? These memories did not tell her. Not even a small clue.
Closing her eyes, she will concentrate on the world surrounding her beyond the temple, trying to get a sense of it all -- how to help these spirits? Trying to find an answer, all she can hear whispers into her ear.]
Worship, worship, worship. [She will continue to repeat and every time she did her dress would shrink. Damn, she may be getting in too deep again, so she'll begin to pull on the hand in her grip, trying to bring him closer to her in an attempt to keep herself anchored.] Allen...please, can you hold me again like before...? [A pause. She'll lean against him as she begins to tremble.] ...I don't think I can hang on to this reality for much longer not unless I feel something holding me here....
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Loud and blaring. Thick and cloying. Unpleasant. Touch. Feel.
Fuck.
Ugh, he hates this. What kind of stupid nonsense do ghosts have to be hung up on to have them be so fixated on this sort of thing now. It gives him a headache almost immediately, and he might be the one holding tight. Almost so much so that her question and sudden request catches him a little offguard. ]
? [ Hold her again like before? He isn't quite sure what she means. To pick her up like he means to carry her off...? That doesn't seem right.
She seems likes she's struggling. Faint, and kind of feathery. Distant, like she's being pulled away. So he squeezes her hand—firmly, even if not enough to cause pain. And he hesitates, but she did ask, so.. he reaches with his free hand and touches her other arm, pulling her to face him before reaching to take and squeeze her other hand with his. Anchoring, rather, so that he can speak more steadily into the hair near her ear.
Hair is neutral enough, right. And because of his vantage and natural gentlemanly gaze, he has no idea about her dwindling state of dress currently. ]
It's okay. Just breath for a moment. Nike— [ She smells good and it's distracting.
Breathing out, he forces himself to focus. Squeezes both her hands. Don't you dare let yourself see her any differently now.
He pulls back, pale grey eyes fixed solidly on hers. ]
You said you were here to help them find peace, right? [ It's gentle but stern. Seeming so impossibly calm still. ] And you want to be strong enough to do that, don't you?
Then don't let them distract you from that.
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And yet his simple instruction to breath, she was able to subconsciously follow by taking a deep breath, some being his scent, the familiar reminder of snow, that it was a good thing that he pulled away to force her to look up at his grey eyes instead of allowing the desire to be close to overwhelming her.
"You said you were here to help them find peace, right?"]
...r-right....
["And you want to be strong enough to do that, right?"]
...yes...
[His eyes were looking directly into her own. It was determined to get this done, even if it seems like his gaze would seem distant sometimes. Was he fighting the urges too? Ah, he must be feeling it by now, and yet he was doing everything he could to keep not only her own consciousness but his' as well. The need to help these spirits were beginning to outweigh the desire to be in his arms.
All she could do was hold his hand tightly, look down and concentrate on the beat of her own heart, that the minute he said -- "Don't let them distract you from that" -- she will begin to sing her song.]
...the sadness born today...soars high into the sky...
[The words will be sung very weakly, apprehensively, but with a tad of sweetness to it. She will be breathing deeply within each verse until a light breeze will be felt. A slightly colder breeze as the soft light from above will grow dimmer with the sudden passing of a rain cloud. It was more than enough for her confidence to rise, the volume of her voice to become more relaxed even if it sounded as though she was emotionally exhausted -- it was difficult to stop seeing the images flashing in her mind all at once.]
I want to protect you; I want to touch destiny; the tears you have shed...the hole in your chest, I want to fill it with happiness.
[Just like magic, the minute she spoke those words, drops of water will begin to fall from the sky, very cold and vitalizing drops that her shoulders will begin to slump, feeling more collected. The rain was coming which meant -- the negative emotions will be absorbed into her body.
Which was odd but she wasn't feeling too many at the moment. It gave her more reason to raise the volume, add more enthusiasm, even if she was beginning to feel the weight of her own emotions and heart. It was depressing. To be unable to do much other than making it rain. Where was the surge of power she felt before? It felt as though she couldn't activate the true effect of her singing.
Well, she could feel the ire surrounding her earlier was lessening, leaving behind a feeling of dissatisfaction. She was beginning to feel weak on the knees due to it as it slowly dawns on her -- her song isn't working, not to its fullest potential because she can still feel their frustration now. Shit. The thought was more than enough for her to feel weak as she falls to her knees.
And yet, she didn't completely fail because she can now feel a new sensation similar to a silver-lining as though they may have found something new to be somewhat thrilled over. What could it be? Did they like the rain? It was a little cold. Don't mind her small sneeze just now.]
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While admittedly he wasn't sure entirely how she was going to accomplish calming them... singing wasn't something he'd considered. Although it isn't that the oddest concept for doing so. Chanting wasn't much different in theory, was it? Although all of that is honestly just kind of... fringe information to him. Not an exorcist like most people understand them to be, after all.
What a strange and beautiful haunting melody, though.
The plip of a drop of rain on his face is an entirely different kind of unexpected though. ??? Did he imagine it??? ]
—ah! [ She won't fall, not all the way, because he'll snap back to the moment and catch her as she starts to slump. Dipping down and arms looping quickly around her to help keep her on her feet and braced against him.
Unfortunately, he has to let go of her hands to do so. ]
Nike? Are you alright? [ She seems drained...
Plip plip. Plip— the growing drumming of water droplets pulls his attention momentarily from her however. He can feel it dampening his hair, and growing in volume like that so nearby, like it's right on top of them. ]
Rain...?
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The warmth she was feeling now was coming from someone desperately trying to keep her on her feet. Nike's hands will grip onto the uniform, one on his shoulder while the other just below it. Her feet will try to find their footing to be less of a burden to him. Although she knew he was strong enough to carry her, her shame won't allow her to let things be.
Her focus was entirely on her surroundings. On the sudden change of situation. The spirits felt calmer the moment she was in Allen's arms. Did her rain summoning do much of anything? It was difficult to tell. The timing of everything was muddling.
Allen's question over the rain will return her attention. She will look up at him with the smallest of smiles forming.]
The sky heard my call, even in a new world, it answered instead of asking me to create a new song for them.
[The smile will grow as she notices the raindrops on his damp hair.]
The rain. It helps to absorb negative emotions. It turns it into nutrition for the world. Only if those are willing to let go and accept the reality of the situation.
[Something she was having a difficult time doing -- accepting how she betrayed all those she cherishes and abandoned them, even if it was for the greater good. Her heart feels heavy, everything feels so clouded to her.]
...I need to reconnect with my heart to find my way again. My songs will be useless otherwise.
[And then an awkward laugh will be given as she shakes her head.]
I'm sorry for all the monologuing. I just...needed something to bounce off, I guess. I'll stop now! [Noticing that his hair and the uniform was all wet, she'll begin to slightly panic.] Ah man, sorry, sorry! I didn't think you'd get this wet! Are you okay? Not cold, are you? [Does she need to hug him tightly? Cause she is gonna hug him tightly now? Like right now. Definitely.]
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Ah? [ The hug, however, catches him entirely offguard. ]
No no, it's fine.. I don't mind. [ Haha. (Patting her awkwardly on the back.) All of that and she's worried about him getting wet? She should be worried more about herself! He has his uniform and it's meant to be durable and weather resistant.
Also he isn't cold at all. His back might be a little, but the hug is warm in an... he wouldn't say uncomfortable way, but... It's distracting. Like it's too easy to notice how warm and comfortable it is (that she is), and tempts him to just relax into it and forget the rest.
Ah. Damnit. ]
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What do you need to do that? "Reconnect with your heart".
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Just as she is being serious about reconnecting her heart as well. Her mind will mull about it while giving Allen the hug. Hands will rub his back, trying to help him feel better if he even needed it because she can feel the uniform's material was good quality. It may even be better quality compare to the Sun Kingdom's. Their uniforms were durable but still felt rigid and uncomfortable. This version was interesting...
Allen's world must be more advanced than her own, she figures. Which greatly annoys her. Religion does not need science. They shouldn't dab into it. It shouldn't be mixed together or they will become greater dangers otherwise.
As she has another monologue spewing her annoyance, the light touch on her shoulderblade may just almost have her jump slightly, but her surprise will be seen especially with his questions.]
Oh... [She'll look down with a mix of shame and guilt.] Right now? Nothing. There isn't anything I can do other than to give it time to heal. I'm sorry. I doubt there is much you can do...
[Other than to make her feel guiltier than she ever has. Really, really, really guilty. Nike will look down, trying her best to force a smile.]
It's funny how fickle and delicate the human heart can be sometimes. I still believe it's our strongest asset. It's what helps us remain so human. [Even the flaws, she can't help love them as well. A person's weakness, even more so. They are lovable in her eyes. She will look up at Allen, noticing the color of his eyes once more along with the scar on his face. Her green eyes were almost entirely entranced by it. Not almost, she was entirely absorbed with it.
A delicate finger will reach towards the star above specifically until she stops just as she was about to touch, remember -- he is usually skittish, isn't he? She should ask....before crossing any lines...she didn't want to lose him...]
Can I...? Touch, I mean? I kinda want to. Always had, ever since I noticed it wasn't a tattoo, so... [In her most formal, gentle tone that almost sounded like a true queen.] May I...?
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Not just with her request. That's surprising alone—but remarking so on the human heart.
His eyes snap wide open at that. In recognition, just because, those words... he's said almost the exact same himself. To Tyki Mikk, who would discount the strength it had. And the thing Allen would hammer about the importance of over and over again, both about Exorcists and why it was their one true strength, the one real source of any power they would have, and why every single person mattered. Why every single soul that may have been once human mattered.
The human heart. Whether it became corrupted or not, it always had that potential in it. It could always find redemption because of it and rise to be more than itself.
Her power also came from her heart then? Like an Exorcist's? It's a bit of a marvel, but honestly not as much as hearing his own words parroted unwittingly back to him. ]
What? [ He almost missed it, her request, and blinks again for a moment, pale eyes fixing back on her green ones. ]
Ah... [ His scar. She wanted to touch his scar. Not in a gawking manner or morbid curiosity, but she was requesting so gently and in a kind sort of way. And even if he's not sure entirely what sort of way she's looking at him—it's fond. Kind. And almost a little sad.
It's disarming, and he is momentarily frozen. But also answers before he can even think that through, normally and like it's an obvious sort of thing, even if she hadn't just managed to momentarily disconnect his brain. ]
Sure...? [ A beat. ] Ah, it's a scar, though—
[ He says, as if it's something he feels like he should apologize for. ]
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Those words were enough to keep Nike from moving especially when it was spoken almost in a defeating sort of tone. No, not just defeating, there was more to it. It didn't sound sad. Maybe uncertain? A little distant, yet it felt like a very heavy thing.
It sounded vulnerable.
Why would he feel so vulnerable? What did this scar symbolize to him? Nike will look at him with a thoughtful expression, trying to piece this mystery together because she feels her next words will be very important. Hold a great deal of weight to him. Her gaze will soften as she leans forward and gently touches the left side of his forehead, touching the scar in a very delicate manner with a great deal of respect.
Allen Walker, a skittish boy with good morals, protective, stubborn, experienced, and...with a beautiful bittersweet smile that doesn't reach his eyes. An individual is willing to adapt to any situation and have faith in others.
All of it describes someone with a strong sympathetic heart. And yet...]
What are you saying? Why are you speaking like this...? [Her thumb will lightly touch the edges of the scar.] I haven't known you for a long time, but this brief time we've spent together is enough. The faces I've seen in this short amount of time... [She never thought she would ever say this, but...] ...the face of the exorcist, Allen Walker.
The face of an individual who is emotionally more mature for his age than he lets on, and most importantly, the polite, skittish but experienced man with the smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes...with a scar that I can't imagine him without...who is always pushing or carrying others to be at their best...
Isn't it all part of the Allen Walker I am looking at right now?
[A pause, looking up at him with a curious tilt of her head.]
Am I wrong...? Who do you see yourself as?
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She might notice that there is such a flighty, such a skittish sort of way his eyes flicker between hers for a moment. Like he might bolt and run, even if he doesn't. ]
...just a small man. [ His mouth feels dry in trying to speak, and he wets his lips for a moment in a nervous sort of gesture like that might help.
But even if his eyes are wide, it's with no small amount of awe and surprise that she actually did reach to touch the edge of the pentagram on his forehead. The light sort of caress there. ]
Whatever you think I am— [ He just... It's like his brain is shutting off. He just can't. ]
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Speaking seems to help however. And though he had let go of her a while ago when she first made her request, he brings his hand—the left one—up to cover her wrist lightly, the hand that's on his face. Very gently, not restricting her in any way, but more like both acknowledging her intentions and punctuating his own. ]
If they're suffering... whoever they are, I want to help them. Whatever I can do, if I can—I can't help but be moved by them. [ Not the world. ]
I just want to protect everyone I can. [ Because he just... does. It's compulsion. And he says it softly, eyes casting down slightly at hers as his eyes half-hood; the rain has slicked his hair by now and his bangs drag slightly in front of them.
Again, he says it like he's apologizing for letting her down or finding the position one he should have to excuse. ]
It isn't for any noble reason.
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However, she could be wrong over the reason for his reaction, his words that follow will give her further insight into the way he views himself. The way he describes it, the emotions, the tone, and the way he looks so defeated or rather...
The look he is now giving her, hiding underneath the now wet hair bangs, Nike will recognize it because it is the same way she expresses herself whenever someone had touched upon her inferiority complex. His left hand touching her wrist will leave her silent, trying to figure out its own significance until she remembers the white glove covering his hand.
Again, what is the purpose of the glove? Usually, to protect one's hand from dirt and anything else that may dirty it. Some use it to declare duels as well. Others use it to hide their hands. Nike will remember the way his left hand looked when he was in his pure white form -- they were in the form of very large, sharp claws. The type that can cut through anything. Could it be that....?
Without thinking about it, Nike will raise her second hand as she lowers both down, under his chin as she brings his attention to her once more, almost pleading for him to pay attention to her, not to the voice deep in his heart and mind. She will use the opportunity to remove the wet bangs from his eyes, pushing his hair all the way back, which was easy to do with wet hair all with the purpose to make his eyes and forehead reappear.
Her green eyes will look into his grey eyes with a soft understanding but determined gaze. At that moment, in looking at those gray eyes, after learning he views himself as a "small man" who is inspired to protect those suffering in front of him without any noble cause or wanting to be shown any spark of gratitude for it -- because it was his selfish desire. Nike simply could not allow him to belittle himself in such away. She wanted to tell him -- there is nothing wrong in choosing the way he wants to live.
Because at the end of the day: he hasn't forgotten to care about other people. And to her, those who never forgot to show that type of kindness were not only strong but beautiful.
She was missing an important piece of the puzzle. A very vital one. She could only imagine the type of life he has had, but it wouldn't be the correct one. After all,
"Stop measuring everyone by your own standards, Princess."
She has the bad habit of assuming and already deciding the type of person someone is without the other party's consent or input.
That's why words won't be enough to reach this boy. There was only one way to.
She will lean close towards Allen, gingerly holding the hair away from his face, to give the left side of his forehead a sweet but tentative kiss right over the star. One kiss, another kiss, and lowering further down under his eye another kiss, one on his left cheek, then one at the side of his lip until she positions over to the next part of him that she wanted to kiss, but will pause after hearing a light cling sound coming from her next -- her necklace holding her broken engagement ring finally moved as she was leaning close to him.
Oh, right, there was -- his lips would be next.
She could already feel and hear the excited whispers, telling her: "Go on, continue, this is a very good mood, he'll understand~"
Not to mention reminding her of the point she was trying to make. Wasn't she doing this for him? Aren't you trying to tell him something important? He hasn't run yet? Hasn't he been helping you so much? He came back with you, isn't that enough?
A thin line will form on her lips as she feels conflicted by all this because she knows what it is like to get her kisses stolen. When did she ever willingly kissed Livi? When as Livi ever kissed her because she asked him? There was always a catch to their kisses.
She never asked to be kissed, and yet had to endure everyone else forcing their mouths over her.
The thought disgusted her. She hated it. That's why she couldn't kiss him, even if a part of her wanted to. A burning desire to kiss him. It was there. Just, was it her own desire or those in the temple? Whatever the case may be, a voice will whisper in the back of her head: You will regret this...]
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