[ The silhouette of a white-haired person dressed in gray, did you say?
Though true, it's no drab gray but crisply monochrome black and white that Allen is dressed in. Pale enough to be a bit blinding himself with how he and Timcanpy catch the light. (He really does need to get a hood again.)
Though he's the one looking at Lavi like he's seen a ghost. ]
Lavi...? [ Did he imagine it? To be honest...
To be honest, waking up this third time someplace strange—he had already resigned himself to being alone and kind of forever without a home again. Told himself it was okay he was alone. It meant they would still be okay back home, right...? Even if it felt like it ripped a part of him out, a part of him so repeatedly torn away it seemed impossible he wasn't scarred into numb resilience. That it isn't something so raw he has to tip his head back and swallow lest it overcome him before he's found a way to center himself again.
It's why he's barely aware that he's moved forward until he already has. To not—as he once did one summery night on a balcony in Caissa—vault himself over the railing and dash off into the castle gardens before letting someone from the Order (even if it was Lavi) catch up to him. To not follow some deep-rooted instinct to flee, not when that life has already been left pretty far behind.
To not do anything of the sort, but to run forward to snag—proprieties be damned!!—the other boy's elbow in both disbelief and crushing, raw relief. ]
did someone say light too dazzling to behold prompt
Though true, it's no drab gray but crisply monochrome black and white that Allen is dressed in. Pale enough to be a bit blinding himself with how he and Timcanpy catch the light. (He really does need to get a hood again.)
Though he's the one looking at Lavi like he's seen a ghost. ]
Lavi...? [ Did he imagine it? To be honest...
To be honest, waking up this third time someplace strange—he had already resigned himself to being alone and kind of forever without a home again. Told himself it was okay he was alone. It meant they would still be okay back home, right...? Even if it felt like it ripped a part of him out, a part of him so repeatedly torn away it seemed impossible he wasn't scarred into numb resilience. That it isn't something so raw he has to tip his head back and swallow lest it overcome him before he's found a way to center himself again.
It's why he's barely aware that he's moved forward until he already has. To not—as he once did one summery night on a balcony in Caissa—vault himself over the railing and dash off into the castle gardens before letting someone from the Order (even if it was Lavi) catch up to him. To not follow some deep-rooted instinct to flee, not when that life has already been left pretty far behind.
To not do anything of the sort, but to run forward to snag—proprieties be damned!!—the other boy's elbow in both disbelief and crushing, raw relief. ]
Lavi!?
[ His thrice-lost friend. ]