towerofanimus

Entry tags:

[ou] lenalee lee

[001]

Characters: Lenalee and you.
Setting: Dormitories
Format: Prose but will match responses.
Summary: Lenalee woke to her nightmares made real.
Warnings: Dark imagery, introspection, and teal de deer.

Her dreams always starts out the same with the world in ruins. The towers are always chewed down to nubs like fractured bones jutting out of some mess of flesh. Devastation covers everything and she is always sitting in the middle of it. The dead are hidden but she knows they are there.

How different it was for the start of a nightmare to be waking up in a room, laying on her back and unable to move for nearly a minute. She finally pushed herself up and scanned the room with her eyes. This wasn't what she remembered last. No. There had been Allen saying good bye before he stepped through the Ark door and it shattered to pieces. She couldn't have passed out, could she? Or fainted.

Neither seemed likely as she slid off the bed and took stock of the entire room. Four beds, four trunks. Lights. All the things one might need if they were living there. But it wasn't in the usual style of rooms she was used to. And that's when she finds the letters. On a whim, Lenalee sits on the edge of the bed she woke up on to read them.

Your world has been destroyed. I saved you. Let's all be happy here.

And that's when the nightmare begins. It comes without fanfare or music, just a simple cold feeling that spreads through her heart like as it if were turning to ice. Everyone she knew and loved, gone. How fast had it come for them? Why was she the only one saved? Was she the only one? The need to know gnawed at her.

Her thoughts whirled in circles and she tucked the first letter into her coat while she walked to the door. But, she was still an Exorcist and the idea of trouble being right outside was nothing new. Lenalee leaned against the wall by the door and eased it open slowly, straining to hear anything that might be a sign of danger. General Tiedoll had said something in Japan that came back to her now.

Survive. Live to fight another day.

If there was another day to be had, she'd survive till it came. Because she'd return to her brother's side somehow. He couldn't be dead. Please, God. She hates you but don't take him from her.

With a quiet breath, Lenalee slipped out into the hallway and worried that all the pieces of her world were gone and her with them.

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Lenalee?

[Allen wastes no time in stumbling his way around the bend again, so utterly flummoxed he simply has to see for himself. He just left her, she can't be here. But here she is, holding that very same letter he tossed aside. For a second, he simply stands there, regarding her collar with a fair bit of poorly-concealed dismay. They took her too? Then he's tackling those stairs as fast as he's able, Tim darting from his hiding place behind Allen's back to flutter in agitated circles above their heads.]

What happened? I was just talking to you— Are you alright?

[It is Allen. She darts up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The fact he left isn't what she focuses on. He's here and he's alive. If he lets her, she's going to hug him and breathe with relief.]

I'm so glad you're okay.

This letter said- [She cuts herself off to gather herself. Her voice comes out almost even and level if you miss the crack.] Have you seen anyone else?

[She's going to get that hug in with very little trouble. In fact, Allen's just going to stand there and let her for a good few seconds, thrown by her remark and how backward all of this seems after their last conversation. In his rush to keep walking onwards, the idea of slowing down to check whether he's okay or not hasn't quite occurred to him. But her arms are a warm counterpoint to the collar's stiff fit around his neck ― around their necks, he can feel the light chink of metal on metal when the hug brings them together; and maybe after everything he's been through the last week, the last month, the last year, the simple comfort of a hug is just what he needs. While it really could be under better circumstances― It doesn't take him much longer to return it with his right arm, a self-restrained squeeze about her shoulders as expected of the gentleman he still tries to be, but just as warm and wound a tad too tight in matching relief.]

I'm glad you're alright too. [ loosening his hold in favour of giving her back a few reassuring pats ] Never mind what the letter said, Lenalee. That's just what they told us, right?

[The idea that whoever did this could have taken more of them is a disturbing one, though.]

I haven't seen anyone except you, but maybe we should look.

[It does seem like a weird reverse situation of their last conversation. She hugs Allen tightly, relieved at least one of her friends is alright. She'd rather not think about the collar but, the faint scrape of metal on metal draws her focus to them. He has one too. The idea sets the hairs on the back of her neck rising.

There was nothing good about it.]

You're right. They have to be alright.

[Once he eases his grip, she relaxes hers as she bows her head in thought.] We probably should check the library it talked about in the other letter. We might be able to get something out.

[He takes a step back, hand falling to grip his left forearm again as he nods. This still feels like an elaborate set-up, but they might as well make use of the resources they have at their disposal.]

We'll keep an eye out for the others too.

[Personally, he's hoping they won't run into any familiar faces. Better for them to be safe back home, because home can't have been destroyed just like that.]

[ a deep breath, hoping the adrenaline rush will hold out -- and then, a little sheepishly: ] ...Which way?

[They had to survive until they could get out. To do that, they needed to use what was available. She nods at his words.]

We just have to believe they're alright until we find them.

[But she'd seen Chaoji and heard about Kanda. Still, hope was about believing in those people and she did her best to kindle hope in her heart.]

Ah, I think the letter said it was down on the lower floors. [On impulse, Lenalee reaches for his wrist to draw him down the stairs with her.]

[Allen nods right back, quick and firm like the smile spreading across his face despite how it tugs at the bandaid on his cheek.]

And we will.

[He blinks at her answer, then makes a weak attempt at levity.]

Looks like I somehow had the right idea, then. Let's go.

[Wrist caught (and if she adjusts her grip to hold his hand, he'll let her; it's less awkward that way), he follows her down the stairs, vaguely reminded of the time he'd held her hand and led her up the Ark's seemingly neverending flight of stairs. Timcanpy brings up the rear, keeping guard.]

[She’d seen the terminals in the halls but, the library had to have some background information on the place. Lenalee frowns with concern at the bandaid on Allen’s face and looks him over now they have better light. He looks like he desperately needs some food and some rest.]

When was the last time you ate? [Or slept. She shifts her grip to his hand and squeezes it reassuringly.]

Whatever we find, after that I can make you whatever you want to eat.

Not that long ago, really.

[Like his reciprocating squeeze of her hand, the answer is a gut reaction to reassure. He's a little surprised to find it true even as he says it. Barely an hour could have passed since he had those few bites of porridge in his holding cell, though with everything that has unfolded since then, it feels like far longer.

Without the buffering of his gloves, her palm prickles with warmth against his, and he has the most absurd urge to start darting furtive looks over his shoulder for any sign of Komui. It's a fleeting slice of normalcy which, along with Lenalee's offer, feels awfully out of place in the whole situation, especially when Allen knows with a rueful certainty that once ('if' doesn't cross his mind) they find a way out, he can't be sticking around long enough for her to make good on it.

Doesn't stop him from dipping his head briefly, messy bangs shielding his eyes. The breathy laugh he cuts loose in the next instant is quiet but unabated, a little raw, and so very grateful. The Order can label him all they like, but look― It hasn't changed what matters. He knew it wouldn't.]

―But I'd still like that a lot!

[He would, honest.]

Thank you, I'll even try to keep the list short.

[Voice dipping into a whisper as they reach the foot of the stairs, he dares a quick look through the doorway and is rewarded by rows upon rows of bookshelves standing like silent sentries before them.]

[ with some surprise at the sheer expanse of information: ] Ah, I think we've found it.

[He just wasn't expecting to find an entire floor dedicated to it. For what it's worth, this place at least appears to be deserted.]

[The normality is something she holds onto it. It was easier to move forward when some element of life was something you knew. Even if it isn't possible and it won't last. One day she could make good on it, when he returned home with that smile on his face. Older. Wiser. But still the same boy that walked away from everything for the sake of his life.

She ducks her head a little and laughs with him, it's raw like a wound and so tired that it's silent but, true none the less.]

You don't have to try keeping it short.

[She relaxes a little when they reach the library. How many floors had they gone down? The library of the order had been extensive too and she steps cautiously through the doorway, her ankle rings glowing with the readiness to invoke if they were needed.]

I think we have. ...Lavi would love this many books.

Edited 2011-08-28 19:25 (UTC)

[Lavi, missing in action. Allen gazes upon the vast library and can practically hear his friend's eager chattering, his excitement accentuated by that eager gleam caught in the jagged green of his eye.]

He might even have read most of them before. I'll have to bother him for recommendations sometime; I always meant to ask him what kind of books he enjoys.

[They will find him and bring him home. Then one day, Allen will come home and ask. He lets go of Lenalee's hand with a quick squeeze, partly because they can work faster that way, partly because he doesn't want to hold her back if it does come down to a battle. In a corner of his eye, her anklets glow, ready and reassuring. Reliable. It has a strengthening effect on Allen, who knows he can still invoke and is determined to hold his own, but with Crown Clown looking and feeling as mecurial as it does at the moment, it's... Hard to tell how far he can trust it, even when it's so irrevocably a part of him. But he'll at least have the comfort of knowing she's more than capable of protecting herself.

The bookshelf closest to them looks promising with its heavy, leather-bound tomes of what can only be texts of some sort, so he gestures in its direction.]

Why don't we start here?

He might have. [Lenalee looks at her hand, still feeling the traces of warmth from holding Allen's. She closes it and steps towards the shelves. He made the right action, they can work faster this way.]

Sounds good to me, look for anything you think might be a history tome or records ledger.

[Allen winces automatically at 'ledger'. Even though it isn't being used in terms of an accounts ledger, he's a little allergic to that word. But now isn't the time to be remembering his master by his debts.]

Alright, I'll start from this side.

[He begins scanning the rows of book spines for anything that could help them, while Tim circles higher to peek over the shelf for threats.]

[Lenalee scans the other side, looking for familiar titles or headings she knows lead to specific research or records. Nothing of the sort catches her eye. She takes out a tome and blinks, at what appears to be a cookbook.]

[Allen isn't having much luck either. He bypasses a row of what appears to be fiction, then resorts to checking out every book that looks half-important.

'Dealing With Agoraphobia'

'Green Iguana: The Ultimate Owner's Manual'

'Cappuccino and Success'

...]

Lenalee? Maybe we should look elsewhere.

[After looking through four books that have nothing to do with what she's hoping to find, she shuts the last one. Maybe it was deeper in.]

Yes, let's try a little deeper in. There has to be something. [She shakes her head and walks away from the shelf, heading deeper into the library.]

[A firm nod, then he's trying to follow her as quietly as possible despite the shackles on his feet. The next few shelves they pass prove to be just as irrelevant, but it isn't unusual for a library of this size to keep important texts at its heart, or even locked up. Tilts his head to peer past her.]

Do you see anything?

[She hears the shackles anyways and pauses when he peers past her. Quietly she turns to him and kneels down to look at the metal.]

Allen, let's get these off of you.

[He wants to say no, it's okay, he'll manage until they find what they're looking for; but this isn't doing much for them in the stealth department. Maybe it's a better idea to deal with it now, while they're still relatively safe, than risk having it slow him down if it comes to fight or flight later. He bends over to join her in peering at them, right hand braced on a knee. The left dangles at his side, still deformed but looking much better than before. Allen lifts it slightly in suggestion.]

I could try cutting them off.

[There's a wash of red as the ankles break down and reform as the hard armored boots. Lenalee steps forward, but crouches down to get a better look herself.] I can try to slice it off if you can't.

[Allen considers this for a moment, then nods.]

―If I can't.

[But he can, right?

Even now, says the quiet surge of determination winding its way through him to coil his left hand into a fist.]

Lenalee. [ Still bent over, he calls her name to get her attention and offer her a smile. ] I'd better give it a go first if it's slicing we're going for here.

[Crown Clown's claw form would do a neater job than her Boots. He straightens then, lifting his left hand (the motion's smooth enough, if leaden), but doesn't Invoke right away.]

Ah, you might want to stand back a little.

[Presumably so he'll have more room to work with, but mostly because he doesn't want to take any chances.]

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