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

Entry tags:

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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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.

The door falls away, and just like that, Shiro is whisked through and plopped back into another section of Kenmore.

Based on the weather, it's a balmy summer afternoon. The sun is high, and the sea is alive with the sound of boats casting off. He's in front of a large building where the sound of metal clanging rings out. Under a large awning is a huge furnace with a stout man banging away at something at his anvil. He's about five foot, with arms like burly oak branches. He's got salt and pepper mutton chops that lead right into a bushy mustache black mustache. He's mostly bald, with a halo of hair that's pulled back tightly into a pony tail. He approached by a slender knight in full plate mail armor, but not a lot can be heard over the banging at the anvil.

The stout man stops in response to an unheard question, then nods to the door.

"Oi! Darin! Get your rear in gear, you have a customer!"

"Coming!" Darin's voice echoes from inside the establishment but something's...off about it. It seemed a little...hoarse? Like he'd been screaming so much that his voice has given out. And Shiro's about to see why. Out steps Darin, no more than sixteen years old. He's still gangly but there's some muscle starting to build on his frame. He's still pigeon-toed and his hands and feet almost seem to big for his frame. Perhaps the biggest difference is the fact that his normally short, spikey hair is braided and pulled halfway down his back. That, and he's sporting a poor attempt at a soul patch on his chin.

He thinks he looks cool. He looks like a tool.

Edited 2017-08-09 04:33 (UTC)

Out of everything he expected, falling isn't on that list.

Needless to say, there's a noise out of him. He refuses to acknowledge it as anything more than a yelp of surprise, but, really, he totally screamed. Worst roller coaster ride. It's not far, fortunately, and he only ends up staggering a few paces when he lands.

"Okay -- another doorway. Another... memory?"

So where now? He gets the feeling there's no going back. Or there won't be, if he keeps pushing on. Shake it off, keep going-- Or stand here and have someone call out to the person you're looking for, that works too. For a second, he relaxes, about to call out to him.

Wait.

Wait a tick.

No sooner does the person in question appear than for the first time in a very long time, the Head Of Voltron is trying to throttle down wheezing laughter.

"What... what is on your face."

Darin regards Shiro curiously, like he heard what he said but he can't seem to understand or recognize the stranger that said it. He shakes his head, dismissing it altogether and makes his way over to the man at the forge.

"A customer?? For me? W-What is it? What can I do for you?"

He's so excited that his voice actually cracks.

The old man at the forge cracks a smile under his bushy black mustache.

"You've got a special task today, m'boy. You're going to be making armor for one of kingdom's greatest champions. Lady Valeria herself!"

Darin's big green eyes go so wide they look like they might roll out of his skull.

"L-L-Lady Valeria?! The Valkyrie?! No way!!" His voice jumps at least an octave as he throws his arms up, crossing them above his head and clamping down to try and quell his excitement.

"Where is she?? Is she coming soon?! Oh man oh man oh man I need to. I need to get my good apron and I need to--wait, how do I look? Do you think she'll be impressed? Maybe...maybe I should tie my hair up or..or..."

The stout old man merely clears his throat and gestures to the knight standing next to him. The knight reaches up and pulls off the full helm, and about five feet of glistening auburn locks cascade down and about the knight's shoulders and back. Darin's jaw hits the floor and anyone susceptible to second-hand embarrassment within thirty miles just tried to hide their face.

"You're awfully fired up for so modest a job, Young Altway" Lady Valeria comments with a very smug grin. Beautiful doesn't really begin to describe her; she reaches up and shakes out her hair, giving Darin a bemused look with her deep blue eyes. She even bats her eyelashes teasingly at him.

"I hope your work matches your enthusiasm."

Darin's starting to catch flies with his mouth hanging open like that.

He knows he needs to pay more attention, he needs to figure out why this is happening. Why he's seeing this. How to get back to where he heard that voice and those chains.

But seriously? Lance has better game with the Blue Lion than this.

"I'm... so not this bad, man." Fortunately, this is said under his breath. But you can absolutely bet when all this is over, the next time Darin gives him lip about being tongue-tied around Allura, he's bringing this up. Immediately. Because for pete's sake he can at least hold a conversation with her without... all of this. "Not... even a little."

Secondhand embarrassment aside, this is all very well and hilarious, and doesn't change the fact he needs to do something here.

Time to look around the immediate area? See if there are any convenient doors to nowhere.

Presently, the only door is to the smithy proper, a large wooden door left ajar since Darin stepped out to be publicly embarrassed. Inside, the workspace is impressively spacious, yet still filled with wares and tools and various workbenches. Immaculate suits of armor adorn racks and walls, gleaming in the light. Its obvious, even to a passerby, that these pieces are top class, but what's even more impressive is that each piece has unique engravings or beveled carvings, marking each and every piece as something unique. There's an incredible attention to detail and an even greater level of passion on everything. It shows that every item is meticulously hand-crafted and in no way is anything in this smithy 'mass produced.'

The walls that aren't lined with tools are lined instead with beautiful weapons; swords, lances, axes, hammers, polearms, shields, and each one is just as impressive, polished to a mirror shine. Shields are emblazoned with images of mythical beasts and axe and hammer heads are etched with house emblems and runes whose meanings are lost to time and lore.

It's no wonder where Darin gets his passion from.

After regaining himself, Darin leads Lady Valeria into the shop where there's a moderately sized open area. She's looking around, marveled.

"Your father's work never ceases to amaze me, Young Master Altway. Even after all of these years he's still the best smith the kingdom has to offer."

"Heh, don't let my Old Man hear you say that, Lady Valeria. I'll never hear the end of his gloating. He's too old to have such a big damn head." Darin's retort, despite his grumbling, is one filled with obvious love and admiration for the man.

"It won't take long to get the measurements I need, so just sit tight." Darin runs over to a desk and pulls out a long measuring tape. He drapes it around his neck, then turns back to Valeria to start measuring the armor on her frame.

He stops short when Valeria begins to unstrap and remove the armor. Beneath, she's wearing a modest, sleeveless tunic, her arms incredibly well toned and muscled, complete with hairline scars about her fair skin, records of hundreds of battles won. Surprisingly, she looks physically stronger without her armor! After she sets the pieces out, she stands there, hands on her hips suddenly looking more fierce and imposing than a normal rank and file knight. She blows some of her hair away from her face, then looks at Darin with a grin.

"Well, come on then Young Master. I was hoping for some updated measurements, the older armor is getting a little hard to move in."

Darin has managed to tie the measuring tape around his throat and is currently turning purple as he stares.

Edited 2017-08-10 18:33 (UTC)

I'm never letting him live this down.

It's immediate. That thought. Somewhere deep down in the brain of a guy who, by all rights, technically should be barely out of college in the real, non-crazy world. The guy who shoves whole pizza slices in his mouth and sends puns to his teammates. That guy thinks this is hilarious.

That guy, however, doesn't get much of a say right now. Because the rest of him, the other layers of him, are trying to sort through this situation. There's a reason he's seeing this, right? If that voice was right, then for some reason, he's being shown this... to ... what? Wear him down?

Distract him? Maybe. There's certainly a lot to take in. The weapons and the art of them all.

And -- oh, you know, the woman stripping off her armor.

That he's not going to look at. Not even a little bit. Thank you very much Darin's memory. What are you trying to do to him here? He's leaning definitely close to the idea of all this being a distraction. Something specifically tailored to throw him off.

...

"Are you choking on the tape!?"

Seriously?

Puberty is always an awkward time.

When he snaps himself out of it, Darin relaxes his grip on the tape and color starts returning to his face. More specifically, the color that's returning is of the scarlet variety. Valeria merely offers a bemused smile as she holds out an arm.

"Let's start with the gauntlets and pauldrons, shall we?"

Nodding stupidly, young Darin stumbles-more-than-walks over and starts to measure her arm, recording his measurements on a small notepad. He keeps glancing at her face, trying to keep his wits about him, obviously trying to come up with some form of small talk to ease the awkward tension that only seems to affect him.

Finally, after much thought, as he measures her across her shoulders, he manages his first attempt at small talk.

"You..ah...you fight good."

Nailed it.

Well, apparently, he's going to go through this scene ignored so he might as well go through the workshop. Attempting to knock on walls or anything that might be a door in disguise.

No way -- not going to get distracted. Whatever the reason he's here, it can't possibly have anything to do with the hideous attempts at conversation going on. Clearly.

But it's not going to stop him from turning around and making a disbelieving REALLY? gesture to the goings-on behind him. What was all that about talking to attractive people like they're just another person?

"Why."

That's all he can say. Just why.

When Shiro turns back around, he's going to be in for a shock. Darin, the real Darin, is standing before him, arms crossed, looking very very displeased.

"Is this what you do in your free time? Sift through people's memories?? Geez, I at least knock before I go into your room!"

He doesn't but that's beside the point. Behind Shiro, teenage Darin finishes measuring Valeria's arms and then, quite hesitantly, moves onto her legs.

Darin throws an arm around Shiro's shoulders and starts to usher him out of the smithy.

"Do you not understand the concept of 'go away and leave me alone?' Do you need a refresher? It starts with you going and never coming back."

Well, he's surprised, to say the least. He's not expecting events to suddenly take this turn, all things considered. He jumps a bit, takes a half step backward. What's going on here?

Needless to say, he digs his heels in when he's pushed. Ducking under the arm.

"I'm here to help," he says, in the tone of someone who is fighting not to add a curse, or "you idiot" along with the statement. "And I'm not leaving until we find a way to wake you up again."

"Yeah, you and the Princess both. And neither one of you seem to comprehend the danger you're in."

Annoyed, he starts to pace, running a hand through his hair.

"You can't wake me up. It's taking ever ounce of willpower I have to keep Diomuhr from straight up seizing control of my body. That was the bargain I made with him: he tells me what my power is and after I save you, the body is his. But I double-crossed him. I used my shadow as material; I created a seal on Diomuhr. My plan was to use that to seal him and my power away for good, but it's not working so well."

He sighs.

"If I 'wake up' then Diomuhr will take the opportunity to take over. I can't go anywhere."

"I've had worse."

Probably not, but. He literally can't remember if it's true or not. Better to err on the side of optimism. If it's possible for optimism to be bleak. He squares up his shoulders, with that set to his jaw that says you'd have better luck moving the Castle Ship with a pair of toothpicks than changing his mind.

"Then we'll help you. Somehow. This isn't reality, right?"

Because if it was, then he probably would've had to sit down by now. Or at least been limping.

"We'll get backup."

"Exposing more people to Diomuhr is not called 'getting backup' it's called 'rallying sacrifices!'"

He throws his arms up in frustration.

"He's playing games with you. With us! And the fact that I had to create this projection to warn you is taking away from my real fight, and he knows it. Shiro...you need to leave. You and I both know theres something so much bigger than this that you need to stay around for. Losing you here...to this? I won't allow it."

"I'm not talking about exposing people, Darin."

He nods toward the way he'd come in, stepping back outside the shop. Back to open air. If this isn't reality, if this is some mental projection, what is there to stop him from adapting?

Once there's enough clear space around him, he takes a deep breath. Closing his eyes. Focusing -- on the part of him that feels like it's been missing. Like a lost limb. The empty space where something else should have been. He's in this memory too. And there's a part of him he wonders if this demon creature counted on.

I know you're not here... but please...

He doesn't look up from the concentration until something answers. Something answers in a sound like thunder, like the blast of a broken sound barrier. Something roars.

And he looks back at Darin with a grin.

"Not anyone human, anyway."

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