towerofanimus

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[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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