Kanda Yuu (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sixillusions) wrote2024-05-24 08:00 pm
sixillusions) wrote2024-05-24 08:00 pm
[memshare] Apocryphos
((Note: The link is technically optional since the bits after it are describing what happens in those pages, but I wanted to prove them for visual reference!!))
Tracking down the beansprout is a pain in the ass.
You knew it would be, because you're pretty sure Allen Walker was created in a lab (hah, ironic) specifically to irritate you to death. You know exactly what he's thinking, too, because he always pulls the same shit: Throwing himself on any fucking sword he can find, solving everyone's problems except for his own. You have no idea how anyone puts up with that fake smile of his. You're certainly not the only one who knows there's a foul-mouthed gremlin underneath. At least you do people the courtesy of wearing your bad personality openly.
But whatever. Whatever! You're here for him, because he was there for you, and because this is your fault anyway, and... anyway, the point is, you found him, and you're here to stay, until you can figure out how to help him, or until you have to kill him.
(You hope it doesn't come to that. Not so much for his sake, because you know that sometimes, death sounds like the kind of break that people like you two don't get to have--but for Johnny, who's abandoned everything to follow Allen, a devoted puppy to the end; for Lenalee, who already blames herself for failing to stop him from leaving; and for the world, you guess, because you doubt you're going to win this war either way, but you sure as hell won't without Allen Walker around.)
The point is: You're here, and he hates it, and his sulking is obnoxious, but it's what he deserves. Not so fun on the other side, is it, beansprout?
Spectacles Man is a surprise.
One minute, you're sitting around, waiting for Allen and Johnny to get back. The next, Timcanpy is attacking some guy in broad daylight, and--well, he wouldn't have done that for no reason, so even though you're startled, you launch into an attack immediately. Not that it matters, because the not-a-man handily wipes the floor with you and Tim both. And it's not like you've never gone up against someone wildly strong, but never anyone who can stop Mugen with their bare hands, and maybe you'd be a little impressed, but he grabs your head, and--
You can feel the feathers bursting from your eyes, excruciating, blinding you as they flood your sockets--wait, no, not feathers. You recognize this pain. This is harsh lights and the cold metal of a lab table against your back. This is divinity spearing through your small frame over and over, indifferent to your agony. This, you realize, is pure, undiluted Innocence.
What the fuck.
You can't dwell on it--you can't think through the pain. You feel... him, it, what-the-fuck-ever--peeling apart your mind, burrowing into the crevices of your memories, and oh, you are so fucking sick of that by now, can't people stay out of your head for one goddamn day--
You use his grip on your hair as leverage, launching yourself up and ruthlessly snapping his neck with your legs. His body falls, and you stumble to your knees, a cacophony of "suggestions" ringing through your head.
You will return to the Order. You have done what you must; you have no need to stay with Allen. You serve the Order. That is where you belong.
No. No, that is not true. Fuck the Order. You came back, but not for them and their stupid fucking holy war. You came back for Allen, for the moron who showed you the greatest kindness you've ever known, the self-sacrificial idiot who granted you and Alma the freedom you'd dreamt of. You don't--
Return to the Order. You do not want to become a Fallen One. You achieved your goal. Remember: You are an Accommodator. You cannot defy God's will.
--belong to anyone but yourself, now, you aren't even bound by ghostly memories--and hey, you can defy God's will, actually, you can do whatever the fuck you want now, and maybe this time when you die, it'll fucking stick for once--
"Don't..." you growl, "Mess with... my head."
You're no stranger to pain, but this isn't the kind you can power through. This is insidiously deep, but you fight anyway, clinging to your sanity, to who "Kanda Yuu" is now, and what he wants. Even as your body hits the ground, and the pavement is dirty and cold under your cheek, and...
and...
...and you should r̶e̴a̸l̵l̶y̷ ̶b̷e̷ ̸h̶e̷a̶d̷i̵n̴g̴ ̸b̸a̶c̵k̵.̶.̵.̵ ̷t̸o̸ ̸t̶h̶e̴ ̸O̵r̸d̵e̴r̵.̶
Tracking down the beansprout is a pain in the ass.
You knew it would be, because you're pretty sure Allen Walker was created in a lab (hah, ironic) specifically to irritate you to death. You know exactly what he's thinking, too, because he always pulls the same shit: Throwing himself on any fucking sword he can find, solving everyone's problems except for his own. You have no idea how anyone puts up with that fake smile of his. You're certainly not the only one who knows there's a foul-mouthed gremlin underneath. At least you do people the courtesy of wearing your bad personality openly.
But whatever. Whatever! You're here for him, because he was there for you, and because this is your fault anyway, and... anyway, the point is, you found him, and you're here to stay, until you can figure out how to help him, or until you have to kill him.
(You hope it doesn't come to that. Not so much for his sake, because you know that sometimes, death sounds like the kind of break that people like you two don't get to have--but for Johnny, who's abandoned everything to follow Allen, a devoted puppy to the end; for Lenalee, who already blames herself for failing to stop him from leaving; and for the world, you guess, because you doubt you're going to win this war either way, but you sure as hell won't without Allen Walker around.)
The point is: You're here, and he hates it, and his sulking is obnoxious, but it's what he deserves. Not so fun on the other side, is it, beansprout?
Spectacles Man is a surprise.
One minute, you're sitting around, waiting for Allen and Johnny to get back. The next, Timcanpy is attacking some guy in broad daylight, and--well, he wouldn't have done that for no reason, so even though you're startled, you launch into an attack immediately. Not that it matters, because the not-a-man handily wipes the floor with you and Tim both. And it's not like you've never gone up against someone wildly strong, but never anyone who can stop Mugen with their bare hands, and maybe you'd be a little impressed, but he grabs your head, and--
You can feel the feathers bursting from your eyes, excruciating, blinding you as they flood your sockets--wait, no, not feathers. You recognize this pain. This is harsh lights and the cold metal of a lab table against your back. This is divinity spearing through your small frame over and over, indifferent to your agony. This, you realize, is pure, undiluted Innocence.
What the fuck.
You can't dwell on it--you can't think through the pain. You feel... him, it, what-the-fuck-ever--peeling apart your mind, burrowing into the crevices of your memories, and oh, you are so fucking sick of that by now, can't people stay out of your head for one goddamn day--
You use his grip on your hair as leverage, launching yourself up and ruthlessly snapping his neck with your legs. His body falls, and you stumble to your knees, a cacophony of "suggestions" ringing through your head.
You will return to the Order. You have done what you must; you have no need to stay with Allen. You serve the Order. That is where you belong.
No. No, that is not true. Fuck the Order. You came back, but not for them and their stupid fucking holy war. You came back for Allen, for the moron who showed you the greatest kindness you've ever known, the self-sacrificial idiot who granted you and Alma the freedom you'd dreamt of. You don't--
Return to the Order. You do not want to become a Fallen One. You achieved your goal. Remember: You are an Accommodator. You cannot defy God's will.
--belong to anyone but yourself, now, you aren't even bound by ghostly memories--and hey, you can defy God's will, actually, you can do whatever the fuck you want now, and maybe this time when you die, it'll fucking stick for once--
"Don't..." you growl, "Mess with... my head."
You're no stranger to pain, but this isn't the kind you can power through. This is insidiously deep, but you fight anyway, clinging to your sanity, to who "Kanda Yuu" is now, and what he wants. Even as your body hits the ground, and the pavement is dirty and cold under your cheek, and...
and...
...and you should r̶e̴a̸l̵l̶y̷ ̶b̷e̷ ̸h̶e̷a̶d̷i̵n̴g̴ ̸b̸a̶c̵k̵.̶.̵.̵ ̷t̸o̸ ̸t̶h̶e̴ ̸O̵r̸d̵e̴r̵.̶