thisavrou_log | If You Listen Close, You'll Hear the Sound / of All the Ghosts That Bring Us Down

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original character: darin altway

If You Listen Close, You'll Hear the Sound / of All the Ghosts That Bring Us Down

Who: Darin, Open to Close and Semi-Close CR!
When: This week
Where: Kauto: Region 5 Hospital
What: Darin's been comatose since his bout with his shadow and it's time to wake him up with SCIENCE
Warnings: Probable blood and physical trauma

While his condition has stabilized since the shadows were officially defeated, Darin definitely isn't in the best of shape. His wounds are taking much longer to heal than they normally should, his skin is pale, and he's showing no signs of any real mental activity. In short: he's comatose. But, there's a glimmer of light in this dark cloud. Using experimental technology, someone (or a group of someones) can reach into Darin's consciousness and maybe try and pull him out of it. The problem? This might not work at all. Or things could go from bad to worse for everyone involved.

What's the worst that could happen?

I-The Hallway-
Interestingly enough, Darin's head isn't just a massive void of empty space peppered with memories of some really great explosions. Nor is it a palace with massive golden statues proclaiming just how amazing he is. It's just...a really long hallway. Each door is unmarked and unlocked, but if you put your ears to them, you can hear muffled voices coming from within. The hallway doesn't seem to have an end though. Pick a door, who knows what you'll find?

II-The Night It All Went to Hell-
One of the doors leads to a rather quaint hillock overlooking a quiet port town. It's dark out, but there's plenty of light from the spattering of stars and the twin moons; red and white respectively, giving the scenery and almost ethereal violet hue. There's a modest home on the hillock itself...which seems to be the source of some commotion. There's the sound of a fight, then some yelling. And then, finally, the spark of a fire being started...

III-Life Goes On-
This door leads to a bustling street in the port town itself. At the end of the street is a rather large smithy, and there appears to be a full garrison of knights standing about the premises, waiting impatiently. The sea are brings the fresh smell of salt on the breeze, and some of the knights are complaining to an older, stout looking gentleman about the rust on their gear. Meanwhile, a beleaguered, blue haired youth, no more than ten years old, is doing his best to measure up an impatient knight for some new armor. Except he's gone and tripped himself up with the measuring tape and fallen into one of the large barrels of water, sending a mixture of laughs and groans rippling through the platoon.

"Why do you even keep this kid around, Acteon?! He's more trouble than he's worth!"

IV-Something's Not Quite Right-
This door leads to an even larger marketplace...not just a port side town anymore. No, this is a huge bazaar in some forgotten nation's capital. There's stalls selling any kind of wares you can imagine: exotic fruits and spices, weapons and armor, fine silks and furs, if you can dream it, it's likely being sold here! Some well armored and equally armed guards push by you quickly though and head towards what seems to be a throng of people circling up. Follow them and you'll see a large man looming over that stout smithy from the previous door, who is in turn standing in front of a gangly-armed, teenage Darin.

"What's all this about?"

"Your brat! He comes up to my stall and he...he breaks my weapons right in front of my paying customers!"

"Look, I was just showing these fine folk what inferior gear looks li--" Darin is cut off by the larger weaponsmith.

"MY GEAR IS THE BEST IN THIS REALM!! ACTEON, EITHER REEL YOUR FREAK IN, OR I'LL HAVE HIM IN CHAINS!"

Darin's smug look turns enraged, and he's already jumping over Acteon to try and throttle the man.

"WHAT'D YOU CALL ME YOU SECOND-RATE--"

The guards are already dogpiling on Darin which...doesn't necessarily slow him down. He pushes through them, and instead of attacking, just turns and runs for the nearest alleyway.

V-Chain of Command-
This door leads to...almost nothing, really. In fact, all that can be seen in this low light is what appears to be a massive steel gate. The bars reach up seemingly forever, and beyond the gate, there is nothing but blackness. The doors to the gate are pushed open slightly, but they're not fully open yet. Something appears to be keeping the doors themselves from being forced ajar completely. That something is Darin, hanging and covered in hundreds of chains, all of which are wrapped around the many massive iron bars. He appears to be hanging limp, but upon closer inspection, his arms are pulled taut, the muscles flexed and tight. As if, though unconscious, he's fighting to keep the iron gates shut.

-WILDCARD-

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Honestly, he can only feel relieved, at first, when the kid takes his hand. It feels like progress. Like he's done something right. Made it up to Darin in some small way. Even if this doesn't change anything, at least he can do something in a memory. Just once.

... of course, then, Darin has to Darin and suddenly his helmet's gone. He actually yelps in startled surprise, reaching around automatically to try and get the thing back.

"Okay... one thing at a time... first? Helmet. Please."

He's still reaching for it. Questions, he has to answer those, out of politeness, out of duty, memory kid or no memory kid. Just give him the helmet, Darin.

"I'm a Paladin of Voltron. Not from anywhere around here. And no, I'm. Not here for the boat. Helmet, please."

Nope, Darin's hopping off of Shiro's back and running around now.

"Voltron? Where's that kingdom? Is it in the north? Oh I bet it's across the sea and that's why your armor looks so funny! Hold on, mister I'll help you get to the--"

He's cut off by a sharp whack. Not from any assailant, but because the large helmet doesn't sit right on his dopey head and he just ran face first into a signpost, which lays him out on his back, a loud clunk ringing out as his helmeted head hits the stone.

"....Heeheeheehee. This is a good helmet, mister."

He doesn't say anything. He's taking a slow, deep breath, and running Commander Holt's mantra through his head again.

Then he's standing. Pacing over to the signpost. And picking Darin up under one arm like he was a small, blue-haired football.

Taking his helmet back with the other hand.

"Where's your house?"

"Huh? It's up that way, outside Kenmore's walls. I can take you there! I bet my dad will know where Voltron is, my dad's been aaaaaaall over the world! He's famous! And he's the best soldier in the world too! Dromas is gonna be like him someday I bet. He's already super strong too."

Curiously, Darin's leaving himself out of all of the boasting.

"Are you gonna ask my dad how to get back to Voltron? What's Voltron like? It is nice? Do they have apples in Voltron? What about dogs? I've always wanted a dog. But I don't like peaches. Are there peaces in Voltron?"

What.

"It's -- It's not a where, it's a who." Suddenly, for a second, he wonders if this is how Keith feels talking to most people on a daily basis. But he waves off the thought in favor of going forward. "It -- never mind. We're taking you home."

This isn't helping. He has no idea what this memory is supposed to accomplish, or how he's supposed to be helping the situation. But taking the kid home can't hurt anything, right? It's going to help.

Right, so. Find the walls... go outside. Just get walking.

"Wait, a dog? Really? You never told me that."

"Of course I never told you that, mister, I don't know you!" He laughs, not minding in the slightest that he being trucked around like a wiggling football.

"Dogs are the best! They're like 'upposedta be your best friend. I want one cuz I--"

He goes silent and just sort of...hangs there. Like a noodle.

"I dun have any friends. 'Cept Dromas. But he says people don't get us so we shouldn't be friends with other kids. But...I dunno if that's okay. But if I had a dog I'd have a friend. And other kids like dogs so maybe they'd like me too..."

"... Right. Right. We just met."

Man it's harder than he thought, pretending he doesn't actually know Darin. Shows what nearly a year of knowing one another would do.

But it's funny, how easy it is to quiet and listen, regardless. Shifting his grip enough on Football Darin, enough so the kid bounces a little. Maybe that'd help the sudden melancholy.

"My best friend had a dog. It liked him way more than it did me." He pauses, the words fond and distant, before he goes on. "But that didn't stop us from being friends..."

A shrug. "You can have them if you want them. Doesn't matter what someone else says."

"I wanna make friends but all the other kids in town pick on us cuz' our hair is different and--"

He suddenly remembers that he promised Dromas he wouldn't talk about some of the stuff they could do.

"A-And cuz...and cuz their moms n' dads said we're no good."

He feels bad lying and he turns a bit under Shiro's arm.

"Why were you two best friends, mister? Was it because he had a dog?"

"That's... a pretty terrible reason to pick on someone."

He's pretty sure he knows the other reasons. If only because he's heard some variant before. Or some allusion to them before. He can guess.

"Or their parents to say that."

He walks in silence for a little bit more. The answer is complicated, but easy at the same time.

"Nah... we worked together. And... went through a lot together."

"Does going through a lot together make people best friends?"

It was an eerily simple question. One only a child could ask without a thought to the weight of it.

"In our case... yeah. Or at least, I thought it did."

But then a lot happened. Some of it, his doing. And he didn't ever get to find out how it turned out.

He shakes his head. "Anyway, point is, you can be friends with whoever you want."

"Mm...sometimes...it's not that easy..."

It's strange. The voice is that of a child, but the reasoning is gradually becoming more and more adult-like.

"I can be friends with whoever I want but they may not wanna be friends back. If I force people to be my friend...I'd be a really bad person."

There's a pause and Darin wriggles in Shiro's grasp.

"Up there." He points to a modest house near a large tree up on a hill.

"That's my house."

"Hey."

He looks down, then, something fond and a little sad in his expression. "The fact you're saying that now means you won't be one. You know that, right?"

The good thing about serious talks with Shiro -- kid or adult, you get the honesty treatment.

"Up there it is then, man."

As they approach, the front door opens, and the man that greets them looks hauntingly familiar.

He's tall and muscular, obviously a seasoned soldier. He's got scars of various lengths up and down his arms, his tunic is worn and weathered, and his skin is bronzed and leathery; all signs of a well-traveled man. But what's most striking is the fact that he looks almost exactly like Darin, though perhaps with about another twenty years tacked on. He's got dark brown hair with streaks of silver, tied back in a messy topknot, strands of brown and silver haphazardly framing his face. The man looks like he's got perpetual five o clock shadow, but he wears it well. He sees the man carrying his son up to his door and he gives a wave.

"Ahoy, stranger! It appears you've come across one of mine! I hope he hasn't given you any trouble!" His voice is booming and lively, and it's apparent where Darin gets his boisterous personality from.

"Dad!" Darin wriggles out of Shiro's grasp and runs up to his father, throwing himself against his legs.

"Oof! Easy there, y'little brute. You're gonna knock these old bones right outta me!" He kneels and takes a look at his son, turning his chin slightly. A glimmer of recognition crosses his features; he can see the slight traces of the almost healed black eye, but says nothing, his expression shifting back to a heart-warming smile. He stands to regard Shiro.

"I hope m'boy wasn't too much of a handful for you, stranger. I don't know where y'found him, but I thank you for bringin' him home all the same."

What. The heck...

(Because even in his internal monologue, getting Shiro to swear is a Herculean task, joke intended.)

This is some weird dream combination. Some kind of bizarre memory mix, because there's no way Darin's dad actually looks... weirdly like some cross between himself and the kid tucked like a football under his arm. Even if the strange guy leans more towards resembling Darin than anything. That's just too strange. Even for the guy who walked on a living, breathing, planet.

He's suddenly glad his helmet's back on.

"No, he's fine."

For a half-second, he's wondering if the kid's about to take the guy out at the kneecaps, but hey. Miracles happen. Or don't.

He shakes his head, keeping his face as neutral as possible. Whatever he's supposed to be getting out of this memory, he doesn't know if he's found it yet. "Really, it wasn't a problem. It's what I do."

The man takes a long, hard look at Shiro. He stands and crosses his arms, eyes moving over the man's entire frames. He almost seems...skeptical.

"A soldier. That's what you strike me as. But not one wantin' t'be one. You don't wear the armor, the armor's wearin' you."

He smirks and approaches Shiro and slowly brings his hand up to shake Shiro's.

"Dracer Altway. Y'got a name to go with whatever it is thay y'do?"

He squares up his shoulders. After all this time, he's more than a little aware of the fact he's under scrutiny. This is judgment, to a degree. He can lift his chin, his shoulders. Stand like the person he needs to be.

Only... that isn't what he's expecting to hear. It makes something in him bristle. Want to say otherwise, but there wouldn't really be a point to it, would there? Only a memory. Right?

With the armor on, shaking hands doesn't make him so much as blink. Right hand to a stranger or no.

"Shiro."

Dracer takes the hand and gives it a hearty shake, violet eyes never once breaking contact with Shiro's, almost as if the man knew something he wasn't letting on.

But that was impossible, wasn't it?

Finally, he claps Shiro on the shoulder with his other hand and nods.

"I think I can rest easier now."

The hair on the back of his neck stands up. Uneasy, suddenly, despite the apparent praise, the apparent acknowledgment. Or blessing or whatever just happened here.

"I'm not sure I follow."

Something isn't right. Something is hitting alarm bells.

Dracer steps away and slowly backs towards the house. Darin is no longer present. Did he go into the house? It's too dark inside to see.

"My son, Shiro. Darin. I'm leaving him to you. You'll look after him, won't you? Don't let him become like his brother."

His voice is pleading.

"I was never much of a family to him but now..."

He enters the house, the darkness of the house, and seemingly vanishes.

That sense of unease just grows. He feels himself shifting his weight, drawing his arms slightly up a little in unconscious defense.

But it's not an attack that comes, not a physical one, anyway.

A verbal, emotional punch hurts just as much.

And he wants to reply -- he wants to say he's not any better. He let him down. He's let Darin down already. And why do people keep placing more and more on his shoulders and telling him it's okay to break under the weight they trusted him to hold up...

"I -- "

But the man is gone before he can answer.

Even if he knows he would have accepted it, taken the responsibility. It's what he does.

The voice that comes out of the darkness is more familiar. It's Darin. Darin as Shiro had always known him.

His breathing is labored, and there's a distant rattling of chains.

"Don't listen to him! He's screwing with you! Get the hell out of here! I mean it!!"

What?

"Darin!"

First rule of Dealing With Shiro -- don't tell him to go away when it sounds like part of his team is in trouble. It never works. Not even a little bit.

Because he's stepping forward. Decisively. Lifting his right hand in what's probably challenge.

"What the hell are you standing around for?! Get out of here! He knows you're here, he remembers you! He knows how to get you to do what he wants and I'm barely holding him back as it is!"

The entirety of the world seems to heave. The skies grow overcast and the open door to Darin's childhood home slams shut.

"You need to leave or everything you've fought to protect will be his! Trust me, Shiro!"

"I'm not leaving without you! I'm not losing anyone else!"

Take that... whatever this is. Kick him out, he's coming back. He's prepared to fight this. As much as he possibly can.

"Trust isn't the issue here!"

That hand glows. Lashes out at the door, hard. "Issues are all in my head." And boy, is he ever tired of people screwing with that.

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