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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"You're right. I'm sorry I didn't make it here sooner."

The dark isn't helping her much here. She can see where they're looking, but not where their eyes are focused. Clearly, this is the two preparing for battle.

She can see it in her mind: The shorter one is going to attack first. As soon as he lashes out with those blades, she'll feint and swing to strike him from the side. The taller one might be able to fight unarmed, but likely won't attack until after, lest he strike his own friend in the head. Next move will be a dodge of that, and then strike again after.

That's the most likely thing; if not, what else could they do that she can't react to? So, focused and ready, she charges.

Tragically, her charge will be cut short. The shorter one did indeed move first, but he's barely one step out when a silver streaking arrow cracks him between the eyes, splitting the ridge and cracking its horn. It staggers back against the blast and two more arrows hit in quick succession; the theist, and then the chest, the blast sending it crashing to the dirt. The second, upon seeing his partner struck down, attempted to flee, but another form rushes through Allura, like a phantom, and strikes the cowardly creature clean down the middle of its back with a gleaming long sword. The creature staggers, then turns to backhand its assailant, only to whiff at the air. This form sucks low, then comes up and pulls a dagger from an ankle sheath and drives it home just under the creature's jaw, angled up into its skull. It seizes up and falls to the ground, dead.

The man extracts his dagger and wipes it on the monster's corpse, then turns towards Allura. His face, though framed by shoulder length black hair, is shrouded in darkness. There are no features at all, seemingly, but it seems to be looking beyond her.

"Could you possibly have made anymore noise?"

Behind Allura, a woman's voice.

"You mean like you're making now?"

It's about this time that Allura remembers: It's just a memory. She wasn't here, so she can't change what happened.

Well, that's fine! Really! It's not like she started this wanting to kill someone, after all. She straightens up, steps away from the monsters, and casually discards her improvised weapon off to the side.

"But who are these two, now?" Given that no one can hear or respond to her, she sees no reason to not think aloud.

In fact, she's going to step over and get a better look. To confirm they have no face. And wave her hand in front of where the face would be. No response, just as expected?

On the other hand, maybe there's some other clues about who these people are. As long as she's closer to them, she'll take a look over their clothes, to see if there are any revealing details or if they're similarly blank.

The one closest to her, the one with black hair, sheathes his dagger and his sword. He wears what appears to be long, flowing robes, bound together around the waist and shoulders with leather and glimmering chain mail. Interestingly enough, he has a cloak that drapes across his shoulders, then wraps under his arms, almost like a vest. This cloak is made of luminescent, white feathers, and it's pulled tight about his slender frame.

The other is wearing shorter robes of equal quality, and she seems to be wearing a longer skirt made of the same feathers as well. Her arms are bare save for glimmering metal bracers and a long metal talon over her right index finger to make drawing her bow all the easier. Her face, similarly blank, his framed by short, spikey auburn locks.

"Honestly, Kyrie, we aren't even supposed to be here. Can you lower your voice and help me with these demon corpses? The last thing we need is to have someone come investigating before we've removed all traces of this attack."

The spritely young woman hops down without a sound.

"I can't believe Diomuhr's own kin would turn on him. What do you think it means, Credo?"

"It means that the twins harboring Diomuhr's soul are dead and the realms are all the luckier for it."

The feathers are attention-grabbing, to say the least. For a moment, she wonders how well she would be able to feel a figment of Darin's memory.

But then she recalls that this is Darin's memory, and starts connecting dots quickly. Namely, that these visitors have made a mistake, and he isn't dead. He has to be around here somewhere, watching these events unfold.

So, while they busy themselves with the bodies of the two demons, she decides to leave them be (although she's still listening to what they say, of course) and go find him. And the natural place to start is the burning house.

As she approaches the building, she again wonders how well she would be able to feel a figment of Darin's memory.

The two figures go about their work. They spread...something. Some sort of powder. They spread it in a ring around the two corpses, then they quietly chant in an unfamiliar language. The bodies are consumed in a low, blue flame, one that consumes rather than burns, and in a few minutes, the bodies are reduced to ash, which gets scattered in the night wind. The woman moves about and sweeps away any of the demons' tracks as they continue their conversation.

"It can't be that easy though, can it? And is Benedictus really okay with the way this was handled? I mean, it's not their fault they were born..."

"We can't take a chance. We don't know what the two of them could do if we allow them to both grow into adults. Diomuhr has the power to reshape the very cosmos in his name. Leaving that power in the hands of two humans is a recipe for disaster. There is only twenty years left of this wager, and I don't plan on trusting the humans anymore than I plan on trusting the demons."

The fire grows in intensity, and the heat that Allura is feeling is very much real. Inside the house is a grisly scene: a young, green haired child is cut almost entirely in half, split from left shoulder to right hip. To the side, the bottom half of a man and...that's that. Under the green haired child's body, however, is another form. This child has very familiar blue hair, and is lying face down. His back matches the wound of his brother; right shoulder to left hip.

"He was so small..."

Is it unusual, for that to be her first big takeaway from this sight? She can recognize him immediately as the same person, and yet he's tiny compared to the loud-mouth blacksmith who's been tagging along with them since the Moira.

It's taking a large effort of will to stand in the middle of the flames; even though she know it's all simulated, her reflexes are telling her to keep away from it. And so, when it flares up to her side, she backs away.

And then, she ducks down under it, being careful to stay away from the grisly pieces of human bodies. More than that, getting down like this should give her a chance to examine the boy closer. The thought crosses her mind that he needs aid, followed by the reminder that she can't give it to him, as he's not real.

Five year olds do tend to be small, Allura, and upon closer inspection, this one is still conscious. His tiny fists are balled up on the floor at his sides, and he's biting his lip to keep from sobbing too loudly; enough so that blood trickles down his chin. He's watching in absolute fear as the two figures go about their work, terrified that if he makes a sound, despite the pain of his grievous wound and the flames licking at his body, that they'll come and finish him off. He'll die just like Dromas and his father did.

So his body shakes and quivers and jolts with each repressed sob until Kyrie and Credo finish removing all traces of the demons.

"Benedictus will want a report," Credo comments, surveying the house one last time.

"I still don't feel right about this..."

"It's better this way. For all of humanity."

With that, the feathery cloaks they wear part and reveal themselves to be wings. With a few heavy flaps, the beings takento the skies and fly away, getting lost in the starlit night.

After a few moments, Darin finally begins to sob heavily, his anguished cries piercing the relatively quiet night.

It's an incredibly awkward spot to be in.

On one hand, it's not real. She has already received a firm reminder of that fact, that she is merely an observer in one large, lifelike illusion. There is nothing she can do to change this, nothing she can do to help.

On the other hand, seeing him like this is breaking her heart. Even as the winged beings (so, his world has those?) fly away from the site, she watches them for only the briefest of moments before returning her attention to him. Her hand hovers near, as if debating whether to give him a consoling touch.

"I wish I could help..." she says softly, to herself.

His body continues to be wracked by sobs as he pushes himself into his elbows. The house starts to creak and crackle as he extracts his small frame from under the mangled form of his brother. He sniffles and chokes in the smoke until finally he's out from under the body. Slowly, he turns and sits up, looking over his twin's body. He can't bring himself to move it, or even touch it. He just sits there hiccuping as his entire world burns down around him.

There's a sharp snap as one of the main support beams breaks away from the rest of the house and drops. Without looking, seemingly without even thinking, Darin's small hand snaps up and slaps the burning beam away, splintering it and sending it careening into the far wall. Even at this age, his strength was almost impossible, and having watched his father and brother get cut down, it appears Darin's running on mental autopilot.

Outside, there's some commotion. It appears some of the townspeople have spotted the fire and are investigating. They retrieving buckets of water while the town guard attempt to make their way into home.

"Master Altway! Master Altway are you alright?! We're coming for you!"

A small crowd is gathering, and Allura might notice a familiar blue haired man standing near the back, watching the scene unfold before somberly turning and heading down the hillock towards the town.

That's convenient. She needs an excuse to get away from this scene anyway. Watching it is only breaking her heart. No, more than that -- being so unable to change the scenario is bringing back a painful feeling of helplessness, like when she had no choice but to delete the AI aboard her castle. It's the sort of feeling she had hoped to never experience again, and so she's already looking to get away.

So, she evacuates the scene, still moving carefully around the memory of the fire. And as soon as she's free, she breaks into a swift run to catch up with the figure.

"There's no way that's him," she remarks to herself aloud, getting more comfortable with being a ghost in this memory. "It wouldn't make any sense. But didn't he say that his hair color was an oddity in his world?" She huffs, putting in a little more effort, and adds, "Maybe it was more common than he thought?"

The stranger hasn't noticed her, and in fact seems to be lost in thought. He makes his way down the slope towards Kenmore, more people rushing from the picturesque port town to see just what is causing the commotion, all of which seem to pass right by him without noticing.

Finally, he stops, and even in this low light it's easy to see: the light blue overcoat, the dao sheathed across the small of his back.

It was Darin himself.

Well, that doesn't make any sense. She glances to the side, over her shoulder, to make sure that the town was still there. And then back to the full-grown Darin.

How is she supposed to make sense of this? is it time travel? But that can't be it, either -- "Why would he remember himself being here?"

She hurries to get in front of him, so she can actually see him. Her face is all scrunched up in confusion. It's a little undignified. She probably thinks he can't see her back.

Darin jumps.

"What the hell are you doing here?!"

"I was going to ask you the same thing!"

She's jumped back as well. Hi, Darin!

"It's my damn brain! These are my memories!" He counters.

"Wait a tick, have you been watching my memories?! What the hell, Allura, I don't go snooping into your head! I don't even go into your room! Get the hell out of here!"

"I didn't come here to watch this! I came here looking for you!"

This is actually a good sign, isn't it? It means that there's a part of his brain that's still active and conscious. That this loudmouth isn't simply lost in a sea of old memories.

She still sounds like she's lecturing him, though.

"But I certainly didn't expect to find you up and running around -- you're in a coma, Darin, back in the real world!"

Edited 2017-08-10 23:49 (UTC)

"Yeah, I know. And you've overstayed your welcome. I'm aware you think my head is rather spacious, but this is where you turn around and beat feet right the hell out of here."

He punctuates his statement by clamping his hands on her shoulders, spinning her, then moving her right along away from the remains of his childhood home.

"Are - you - quite - serious right now?!"

Given his ridiculous strength, fighting back would be a stupid idea. And even if not, fighting back against his conscious mind would also be stupid, when the goal here is to wake him up. Still, she flails in resistance as he marches her along.

"What do you mean, 'you know'?! If you know, then why not wake up! Because I'm not going anywhere until you're conscious again!"

"Because I can't wake up. Because it's taking every ounce of my mental fortitude to keep a certain someone at bay. Okay? Happy? Thanks for stopping by to visit but you really need to get the hell out of here before my roommate catches us."

He's getting more insistent, more frantic, as they approach the large oaken gates to Kenmore.

"Can't say it hasn't been nice catching up because it really hasn't. Don't let the door hit you in the glarfnab on your way out."

Edited 2017-08-11 00:01 (UTC)

"What's a glarfnab?"

"... ... ..."

"Oh. Oh. So this is how you treat someone who's trying to help you!"

Now she's trying to crane her head around and see him. And possibly whatever's behind him, if that's even still the town they left.

"If you're concentrating so hard on that, then why are you distracting yourself with reminiscing and pushing me out?"

"I'm not the one generating the memories you pointy eared loon! Diomuhr is! He's trying to distract us all by dredging up my memories! He knows I don't want anyone to know too much about me and he also knows you idiots will keep plodding along in a futile attempt to help me. When he's worn you out, he strikes, and if he kills you in here, I don't know what will happen, but your blood literally on my head is not going to make things better! That's why I'm here! I'm using what little strength I can spare to project myself here to kick you the hell out."

"And what's wrong with us knowing things about you?" She wants to point out that he passes harsher judgment on himself than anyone else here, but -- first impressions are hard to shake, aren't they? And in addition to that, it could just as easily the opposite, that he's worried about them sympathizing with him.

"They are only memories, after all. Painful ones, embarrassing ones -- we all have them! And more to the point, if you calmed down for a moment, perhaps I actually could help you!"

"I don't want your help!"

He yells it, planting his feet firmly as he gives her a little shove away.

"Don't you get it?! If I'm here then that means that Diomuhr can't leave! That means that my world, Thisavrou, effectively every world, is safe from him! Who the hell cares what it means for me?! This is so much bigger than just one stupid blacksmith from some podunk port town! Why can't you see that this is so much larger than any one person?! I can't put myself before so many others, so what gives you the right to?! Ah?!"

From a certain perspective, she shouldn't argue that logic. He's making a sacrifice for a mission that's greater than all of them. Isn't that something she believes in? And yet...

"Weren't you the one lecturing me about teamwork? What kind of team would we be if I were to turn around and leave you behind in this place by yourself?!"

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