The entire Black Order was summoned to the center hall. The area was far from a hallway, and more of a ballroom. Or so it would have been, mirrors lined with golden designs framed them and paintings similar to the beautiful Sistine Chapel ceiling the great Michelangelo himself painted. An ancient sort of wood, the tree most likely long extinct, made up all the doors and frames, carved into woven pattern of angels and devils enacting the armageddon.
The floors, bright white marble, were tiled and specks of gems and gold were wound into the pattern of the separation, sanded down by possibly several thousand workers to the point where it was impossible to tell them apart from the expensive marble unless you looked down, for they were so flat your foot wouldn't rase up a millimeter.
However, today, few people were paying attention to the gorgeous room they were currently waiting in. No, what held their attention so very harshly was the thing near the wall, directly across from the double doors.
A huge rock pile, five feet tall and ten feet wide each way and a large wooden cross of oak, large enough to be equal to two men standing atop each other. Small piles of pine wood were stacked at the foot of it with tufts of dried hay littering about. The purpose was obvious:
And for someone to ask 'who?' would earn them a furious glare from the small group of exorcists in the far corner of the room, who seemed to be hearing everything and yet nothing at all. They spoke to no one but themselves and certain members of the science department, such as Reever and Johnny. All exorcists were currently in the Order, as Miranda and Krory and Noise had recently returned from a mission in Southeastern Germany, where Miranda had grown up.
There were at least three new exorcists, all which had suddenly found themselves exiled by their seniors. They were all in the opposite corner of the room, talking animatedly amongst themselves, wondering what had happened to make their comrades change so rapidly and drastically. They had no knowledge that the one who was to be executed had once been their close friend, though they were slowly working towards that discovery.
Miranda was in tears, mumbling to herself how she should have been here to try and help him. Krory was trying his best to steady her. Johnny and Lenalee were hugging each other for whatever comfort they could get and trying their best not to fail themselves and be reduced to the tearful, useless state. For once, they could not find it in themselves to comfort Miranda. It was too difficult for themselves already.
Lavi and Kanda leaned beside each other in complete silence as the hall buzzed around them. Kanda was trying desperately to ignore everything. However, the moment he heard the name, his head would whip around and he would send the most savage glare in his arsenal, and along with Lenalee and Lavi backing his glare up, anyone who happened to be in the line of fire would instantly fall deathly silent.
Lavi was still finding it almost impossible to comprehend what he had been asked to do. It was difficult to think what a burden had been placed upon him, whom was not supposed to not care, and yet he couldn't help but worry what would happen should he fail. Should he have one screw up. It was almost a relief whenever his name was mentioned that he could turn and glare at the perpetrator, though it was ultimately releasing frustration on an innocent bystander. Or at least mostly innocent.
Marie was being silent. He neither wished to glare at those who mentioned the boy, nor explain and receive the glares. Rather, he wished to simply pray that his former comrade' s soul would finally find the peace his earthly world had so long, forever denied him.
And then, the double doors across the stake and firewood were thrown wide open silenced the crowded room far more effectively than any of their most enraged and heated looks ever could. Four cloaked figures storde in, masked in purple— the holy color of royalty. The Crow guards in all their sinister presence, unknown by most, but infamous among those more informed in the audience.
However, it was the figure they were escorting that drew the true attention. His arms were tied behind his back in ways that looked immensely painful. The entire left side of his face was covered in bandages, stretching down to cover his neck.
All he wore was a simple black robe. Normal fabric. Easily burnt. It contrasted his skin and his hair, both near paper white from constant bursts of servere illness and from not being exposed to sunlight in so long, coupled along with his natural tint. However, his eye, one exposed eye, drew much more attention than anything else about him, even the hair, purest white so brilliant it seemed to glow.
But still. It was just his eye. Silver and gray in a contrast that wasn't quite white. They were half hidden by white eyelashes, but nevertheless, they held something deep within them that no one could quite place as the crowds of people parted to give them a clear path to the pyre.
Inspector Malcom C. Levirrier strode in pace behind them. His black leather suit accented with a plain blue tie, and his hair, combed back and gelled so even that one strand that always seemed to get loose was perfectly in place. The man had been anxious for this day to come, when yet another traitor of the Black Order had finally been apprehended. It was halfway clear what, as all eyes flew to the white bandage on his cheek. The 'accursed' had not come quietly.
Lavi swallowed hard and began to make his move, pulling out his hammer at its smallest size and carefully edging around to the back of the pyre while the Crows, his friend and Levirrier all made their way forward. He stole a small whisper to Lenalee and Kanda. "You'll know when."
For several moments, he stared at him. The person who had seemed like the younger brother he had left behind so long ago. Had taken his place as the boy he wanted to play with and protect, because they were family. And yet, he still could not imagine doing what he was about to do. What he had been asked to do.
Oh, but Lavi hoped his younger brother had a plan. He wouldn't be able to do this. It had been a miracle Komui had even been able to relay the message with everyone as tense as they were. He swallowed the doubt in his throat and did his best to sneak behind the pyre unnoticed. Meanwhile, Allen walked forward, ever coming closer to his death.
Two Crows led the white haired boy up to the cross. He kept his head down and eye closed at all times, allowing the Crows to guide him and thus, not giving any resistance when they forcefully shoved him up against the wood and jerked his arms around to bind him and looping a noose around his neck and tying it to the wood as well, so any attempt at escape would snap his neck.
Levirrier stood between the two remaining Crows, an overly smug look on his face as Allen was jerked around, perfectly at his eye level. The crowd around him was still deathly silent and almost immobile as they watched the spectacle. He smiled menacingly for a moment before fishing around in his coat pocket for a small roll of parchment. With a last glance at the accursed, he drew the attention onto himself as he began to read.
"Allen E. Walker, is hereby to be punished for the following charges," He paused a moment to make sure there would be no interruptions. He smiled as the crowd was still silent. "Heresy against his religeon, assault on a soldier, assault on the Inspector, attempted murder, contacting with Noahs, accepting the offers of the Millenium Earl, and being the heir of the Fourteenth Noah."
The hall burst into chaotic whispers and accusations. Few could believe that this boy, this small, kind, gentle looking boy was such a traitor to them. Had he no pride? Had he no respect for their hopes? How dare he!
"DEATH TO THE TRAITOR!" A man in the crowd shouted. Others joined in with his cries, all yelling for the death of Allen Walker. It was all the exorcists could do to not attack them right there. To not rip to shreds the people they had vowed to protect.
Levirrier cleared his throat loudly, and everyone fell silent again. Awaiting. "Punishment for a crime against the church, as to precedent; Allen E. Walker will be burned at the stake until he is dead," The hall filled with whooping cries of victory. Johnny burst into tears in Lenalee's arms.
Levirrier turned and glared at Allen, waiting calmly as people displayed their intense hatred of him, not caring at all that he was in the room, awaiting his imminent death. "Have you any final words, Allen Walker?" He asked loudly as the hall slowly fell quiet once more.
Allen smiled. His eyes still closed. "Though you may think otherwise, I have nothing to repent."
And then the boy fell deep asleep. The gasping flames within the ashes
Levirrier lit a match and tossed it onto the heep. It burst into ferocious flames, immediately engulfing the figure tied to the wooden pole. Allen screamed.
One by one rise up and expand into that beloved face.
Lavi hated this. He was failing. His Hammer was far too small. He grew it several inches until it was almost a foot and whacked it gently against the pyre. Praying to a God he wasn't sure existed to make this work. Now of all times, let it work.
Thousands of dreams suspended from Earth.
Kanda was gripping the first thing he could, which happened to be Mugen's hilt. His knuckles were white as he gritted his teeth and listened to the screams. The chilling, pleading screams of a person being burned alive. Torn apart as his skin was peeled off him, smoke entering his lungs and his body decayed much too quickly. It was sick. Sicker than any Akuma massacre he had ever, ever seen. But there was nothing he could do. Nothing but pray Lavi wasn't going to screw up.
On that night those silver eyes trembled, you were born, shining brightly.
Johnny was now relying completely on Lenalee for support. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't rely on himself to be strong and to comfort them when they needed him. He was letting them... everyone down right then. He was admitting he was useless. And then he couldn't even have the strength to hold onto Lenalee anymore. He slid to the floor as a flash of silver, the exact color of Allen's eyes, flashed through the flames for just a moment.
Hundreds of millions of months and years. No matter how many prayers are returned to the Earth.
Lenalee cried. She wanted to scream, she wanted to yell and shout and make everyone see Allen didn't deserve this. It would be no use, and she knew it, but she wanted to try. There was something utterly crushing about this. Something that was completely wrong. What was more tragic than a hero becoming this? Becoming... being torn away, and beaten, and made useless. And then being disgraced like this... there was something so wrong... so wrong...
I shall continue to pray.
Komui fell to his knees. Finally. "A kiss for closed hands, Allen... please, come out of this... you have to...live."
Lavi felt his hammer vibrate under his grip. He looked up to stereotypical heaven. Was there really someone up there? Like... like some sort of Father? Some sort of Mana? It was working...
The screams slowly began to subside, the figure in the flames stopped thrashing, everything seemed to slow. It had only been several minutes. This was far too fast for anything to have happened. This was much too soon for him to be dead. This was supposed to be a slow torturous method of killing. Cleansing the soul by flame and burning the sinful body to ashes as ashes they came from.
And so, everyone had some similar sort of thing on his mind. Was he dead? Lavi and Lenalee trembled in horror. They couldn't have been too late, but what if they had been? What if the smoke and lack of oxygen had suffocated him? What if the flames had devoured him? What if he had just given out entirely, his body and mind unable to bear this strain?
And what if he was alive?
The silver of the Ark, falling glass from the sky slashed through the air and opened its dimond-shaped wormholes wide for entery. Wind for their maker's will. In utter shock, no one moved. No one took their eyes off the Ark nor the figure still masked by flames, but now oddly standing straight, as though he were completely uninjured. Alive.
"Inspector..." A Crow hissed to Levirrier, slowly backing away. "The fire has no smoke..." Levirrier's eyes widened in realization. He gritted his teeth and barked his command. It echoed throughout the hall.
"FIND THE APPRENTICE BOOKMAN!" Lavi almost screamed in sudden terror as the hall sprang to life, the flames still roaring in the center of it all as he crouched low and hoped to be passed over. If he were caught now, and his hammer pulled away from Allen, there would be nothing to stop his burning. Nothing but tears.
And then, someone tried to yank him away. Lavi risked one hand to spin halfway around and whack the perpetrator on the neck. After the much-too-loud thud, he turned to see that the person he had just knocked out was a rather large finder. Shouts were approaching him. The impact had been loud enough to hear, apparently. But he couldn't move. How had Levirrier discovered it was him so quickly? Was it his fire? Was there some aspect of the original he hadn't been able to reproduce? He hoped Lenalee and Kanda would find him before anyone else did...
"We found 'em!" Lavi twitched and pressed his hammer harder against the rock. He had to keep the flames under control long enough to burn the ropes while not completely burning Allen. That one time in Japan, he had been under mind control when he had told the flames what to and what not to burn. It was hardly as easy in full consciousness. It was much, much more difficult. He couldn't seem to get it right. He couldn't seem to stop the burning.
He froze up almost completely as the soft clicks of hurried footsteps and the swishes of thick purple cloaks rose from the not-quite silence behind him. He couldn't fight off Crows. With his hammer, he might have a chance, but like this, he was completely useless in a fight.
Cold hands on his shoulder, circling around his neck to either snap it or tug him away. It all depended on if Lavi should resist or not. Neither looked particularly appealing by his point of view. He really didn't want to be there right then... he didn't want to die, but if Allen died, it would be even worse, but if he died, Allen would be dead anyway, so everything would be pointless, but he couldn't just give up. He needed help. Now.
"Move it!" The unmistakeable sound of steel and silver-lined boots crashing into a skull rang behind the shout. The hands vanished in the wind. Lenalee, thank God... "Are you okay, Lavi?" He nodded numbly, still focusing on his vibrating hammer in his trembling hands. If Allen made it out of this alive, he should be beyond grateful... Lavi was giving up his entire Bookman Clan for this. Oh yes, there would probably be another heir by now, but still... His ass was going to be handed to him on a silver platter by the Panda, whether this worked or not.
"Stupid Rabbit..." Kanda too? That was something he really hadn't expected, whether he was holding Allen's fragile life in his hands or not. It was amazing what the simple thought of the kid dying could do to even the hardest people. It was like a part of the world that had to remain there, even if it was beaten several times over. As long as Allen was there, they had a reason to move forward and an ideal to meet. Whether other people realized that or not, they were not going to let him die for something so trivial.
There were sounds of struggle behind him, but he tried to focus completely on the vibrating hammer in his trembling hands. The ropes were weakening... being torn apart by the flames while the arms they bound together remained mostly intact... Oh, what horrible pain Allen must have been in right then. It made Lavi halfway ill to imagine he was the cause of the slow agony.
Even if Allen wasn't burning, it was still incredibly hot inside that furnace. He would still be suffering from the burns he had gotten before Lavi had taken the fire under his control. Heat, especially to such an extent, was the absolute last thing he needed at that moment. The ropes weakened even more, to the point where Allen was beginning to fumble with them in an attempt to undo himself and possibly escape before his body gave out from the unbearable heat and pain.
Lavi only then dared glance over his shoulder to see how Lenalee and Kanda were faring. His blood froze at the sight of them trying to hold back almost fifteen Crows at once. Even with their Innocence activated, there was little they could do except avoid binding spells and lash out when a Crow came too close to them or the invisible line they had constructed.
And they were faltering. The Crows were pushing them in closer and closer to where Lavi was still trying to hold the vibrating scrap of Innocence and metal in shaking hands. It was going to take too much time to burn everything without burning Allen, but if he tried to speed up then the particles around Allen would accelerate too fast and he would be burned again. Too much chance on that. He was probably already near-death from heat stroke...
Lenalee screamed as two Crows burst through their blockade. Lavi was going to die.
"STOP!" A blinding flash of some odd mix of red white and black. Mostly black. Or white. Or red, maybe? Lavi's single eye, no matter how elite it was, could not register the movement, nor the figure, nor anything else about his savior other than the human shape and the fact that he was in a position to easily snap both of the Crow's necks with a simple wrist movement.
"I'll do it," Allen swore, "You've all seen me before, right? You know I can do it," The robe he had worn was tattered and frayed with badly burnt edges and holes where sparks had landed. His hair was badly singed in placed but untouched in others, and he was covered in angry red burns. The open air must have been so painful... maybe even more so than the actual fire...
The bandaged had been completely burned off his face. His left eye was narrowed to the point where the speck of a pupil was hardly visible under his lids. The two Crows were bent under him, his hands on their heads, awaiting the moment to snap down and end the two forever if necessary. And yet it was still Allen, but a much older, much more worn Allen.
"And what exactly do you hope to accomplish, Number Fourteen?" Levirrier weaved his way through the considerable crowd that had gathered to watch. "Surely you cant be hoping to brainwash every exorcist here to be your personal army?" The newer recruits flinched. Obviously they hadn't been around very long. They were already a part of the Pope's personal army, or maybe it was just because Allen was a declared traitor the thought scared them. "Should we add that to your list of crimes against us?"
Allen snorted in a way that suggested he felt highly insulted. "I don't know how many times I've said this, but..." He took a deep breath, and the hall awaited his 'nothing to repent' speech... "MY NAME IS ALLEN FUCKING WALKER!" He yelled. "SAY IT WITH ME! ALLEN WALKER! A-L-L-E-N, W-A-L-K-E-R! GOD DAMMIT! WHY CANT ANYONE GET A SIMPLE NAME?!" Most people were quite amazed they hadn't burst out laughing nor fallen on the floor. Allen closed his eyes momentarily and took a deep breath before opening them again.
"Sorry had to get that out of my system, it's been bugging me for what? Two years now?" He shook his head in exasperation. "And the question was... what am I trying to do, right?" He asked, looking up again, eyes, newly deformed and the normal, locking in with Levirrier's. He could almost feel the repulsion as people looked at the left side of his face. "Well, I certainly don't want my own personal army," He said, "That's what the Pope wants... and sadly, has."
Several mutters escaped the crowd, but they were quickly silenced as Allen spoke again. "I'm just trying to live," He said, loudly, clearly, hoping everyone in the entire room could hear him. "I'm just trying to live," He repeated, "Is that so horribly wrong? To want to be alive and to want to do what you have to but still have your choices? I cant do everything, so I've tried to do a lot of things, but that hasn't worked out so well," He took another breath, "So I'm just doing what I can, and hopefully, I'll get something done. If not, I tried, and I at least had the choice of what I tried to do..." He looked sadly over at the new recruits. They flinched and tried to back away slowly. They had never seen nor faced a Noah before, but they knew of the terrifying powers they held. "They don't have that choice, so if they choose to stay right now, then I hope they're fine with what they've decided—"
"How do you even propose to escape?" Levirrier barked, interrupting Allen's spur-of-the-moment speech. "You are surrounded by Crows, and there are still exorcists at my disposal," He hissed, "There is no way of escape. You and your fellow traitors will be punished accordingly—"
Allen clicked his tongue in a highly annoyed way and interrupted Levirrier the same way Levirrier had interrupted him. "Please, sir, are you blind or do you truly have such sort term memory loss?"
Lenalee turned, her boots blazing with blue-green light as she grabbed Kanda's hand and fished Johnny out of the crowd withing moments of her complete activation. Allen closed the foot-long difference between him and Lavi, grabbing onto the older's clothes as the hammer extended and launched them in the direction of shattered fragments of sky— the Ark's gate, wide open and inviting.
And they vanished without Levirrier being able to say a word to stop them.
Moa Hasse had grown older. No, she did not have wrinkles just yet, but they were coming. As a lady in her mid-to-late twenties, it was expected she would be starting to look older. It was, after all, the eighteen hundreds. Most people lived from their late-twenties to forties. She was coming, but if she kept herself in good health, she was sure to live longer than most.
She was putting on her jacket to start her nighttime rounds. It had been a good ten years since she and Claire had moved from Sweden to the border of Germany, near a dock town to England, and it already felt so much like she had grown up there. How long had it been since Claire and Mark had died? Almost three years.
The memory, which had oddly crept into her mind, came flashing in with images of a young boy with white hair and a deformed arm. A soft, eviloping flash of white light and the sound of a chain breaking softly within Mark's body and Claire's soul. A good sound.
Moa fastened the latch on her helmet. Something was going to happen tonight, she had a feeling... I wonder if I'm ever going to see Allen again... At that moment, there was a knock on the door. "Who in the world?" It was so late, she was certainly not expecting guests!
Moa quickly readied her gun and raised it so that she could shoot at any moment should the situation demand it. Sliding up to the door, one hand turned the knob as the other held her gun firmly, yet not tight enough to choke it. She swung the door open and spun so that her revolver was pointing directly at whomever might try to—
A stalk of incredibly familiar white hair. "S-sorry... miss Moa..." The familiar voice panted out, but it was older, deeper, more tired than when she had last heard it three years ago. "Can we bother you... for just a bit?"
"Allen!" Moa immediately dropped her gun, relieving the startled teenager with fiery red hair that Allen was leaning on. She slipped it back in her holder and stepped aside to allow the party of five into her house.
To be blunt, Allen looked awful. He was covered in burns— nothing overly serious, though. Just second degree, as though he had never touched the coals directly, but it still must have been incredibly painful. They were blistering as the red head helped him over to the couch Moa had gestured to on her moment of realization.
A young girl who looked somewhat Asian and an older man who might've been her brother if not for the difference in features followed in quickly behind them. The final intruding member was a boy about the same age as them, but shorter than even Allen. With frizzled hair and glasses. "I'm really sorry about this," The boy said the moment he was in the house.
Moa blinked but shook off her slight suprise. "It's no problem," She said before running off in the other direction to make a phone call. Something told her this was not something she should broadcast even the slightest bit. Even to the hospital. It was something you learned after serving in the police or the army, or anywhere almost, for so long. Trust your instincts and you have a better chance of seeing tomorrow.
Still. She would have to call in and report that she wasn't going to be able to do her rounds tonight. Otherwise it would lead to questions.
She reentered the living room and found Allen fast asleep and the others in some discussion or other.
"Will he be okay?"
"I'm sure he will. He's just exhausted and probably his mind's been put under a bit too much strain. We give him a while and he'll recover."
"He's been under strain for two years, I don't think he'll be the same person when he wakes up."
"We saw what he was like though, he might be a little more ready to hurt, but he's still mostly the same."
"I vote all the idiots shut up so we can discuss other matters. Beansprout'll pull through, end of story."
"I'm with Kanda, Allen can make it... so we have to be ready for when he wakes up again."
"How long do you think he'll be out this time?"
"Oi, did no one notice I said we needed to move on to other things right now?"
"'What do we do now?' might work."
"Well... I say we fight."
"Yeah, but how do we get information? We've basically banned ourselves from the Order; they'll try to catch us every chance they can get."
"So we go without the Order, or we go behind their backs."
"We can somehow contact brother or Reever or Marv. It's not like we still don't have friends there."
"They'll be tracking all the golems now. They might have guessed we would try that."
"So what will happen to them?"
"With no proof, nothing."
"Well... if we're cut off from information, where do we go next?"
"It's early October... I say we go somewhere warm."
"I never took you to be the type to hate the cold, Yu."
"Well... first thing first, what are we going to do about Allen?"
"I thought we passed this topic?"
"If you havent noticed, his face is a twisted carnival. We arent going to get far without him being noticed."
"I have a mask." Moa flinched, instantly regretting speaking up when it obviously wasn't her conversation. Still, she really did have a mask, and for some reason, ever since the moment she saw it she had the feeling it belonged to Allen, somehow. Perhaps it was just the pale smoothness of the paint that seemed to match what she remembered of his skin, or maybe the marks that looked so much like his scar? It could even be the way it had been formed that it seemed almost made for his face.
The girl, whom had long black hair pulled into pigtails, stood up slowly and moved towards her. "Can we see it, please?" She asked politely. Moa smiled, then she realized she was still in her police uniform. She hastily unfastened her helmet and set it on the nearest table she found before turning to the stairwell and beginning to climb.
In the attic, there was a trunk. In the trunk was a brown paper package tied in a neat knot made of bailer twine. She rummaged in the back, looking for that specific black trunk with the bag in it. It took her almost five minutes, despite her house previously being destroyed by Allen when he caught the bullet (she was still not complaining) and most of her personal items had been lost. Still, you can collect a lot of junk in two or three years.
"Here it is!" She announced proudly, holding the package above her head as she weaved her way through the collections of junk to the Asian girl's side. In the dim light provided by the lanturn they had brought up, Moa fumbled to unwrap the package. Bailer twine was certainly not easy to untie, and in the end, she simply had to pull it off as it would not break, either.
What she unwrapped was a durable white mask that looked made for both combat and fashion. It was white and had a familiar red cross mark over the eye, and it was for the left side of the face. It was molded to lock onto the skin and stay there firmly, so it did not need to be held on with a string. It looked a perfect fit to Allen's face and features, from his not-overly-apparent cheek bones to his smaller nose and wider mouth. It was, in a thought, Cross's mask for only Allen.
Lenalee felt her eyes heat up. "Where did you get this, ma'am?" She asked quietly, so that she thought the blond police officer might not have noticed, but she couldn't seem to be able to ask it again.
Moa blinked curiously at the girl's reaction. She looked near tears. Was there something special about the mask she had not realized? "A year or two ago, a man came by here," She explained. "He was about to rest in the old church, but after a fiasco involving Allen, I wouldn't allow it, so he slept here instead." She said, remembering the insanity she had to go through as Allen practically destroyed the idea the world was peaceful.
"He didn't have any money, so he repaid me with that mask. He told me, 'eventually, someone will come through here who needs that mask. When they come, please give it to them,' and then he left." Moa said. It had certainly been an odd day, to say the least. She looked over to see if the girl was taking the news in a bad way, given her first reaction.
To her suprise, she was smiling. "I see." She turned and hurried back downstairs. "Guys! This is perfect! You seriously wont believe it!"
For a moment, Moa stood there in shock, but her face slowly changed to acceptance as a small smile formed. She ran downstairs as well, following the girl she would soon learn was called Lenalee. Down into the living room where her friends, Lavi, Kanda and Johnny all sat, awaiting the recovery of Allen Walker.
Allen Walker, whom was currently sleeping on the couch as Lavi and Johnny bandaged his wounds and put cream on the burns. He did have an expression on his face. A small, awkward smile, similar to the one he wore the day he met Moa for the first time.
And for some reason, Moa smiled when she saw he still could.
Trying to bury the things that I've lost
I've let go of my pride
I'm going to take it back with my own two hands
I can see the light of tomorrow
Final A/N is down here, just so I can say some things to you all...
first, this is my SECOND ever story I have finished! I seriously could not have gotten to chapter 13 and written it this well without everyone's reviews!! Really, you guys are making my life of school-till-five-thirty bearable!!
This isn't COMPLEETELY over, you know, right? Yep. You heard me. Excluding those who were still unsure, it was UNANIMOUS that there was going to be a sequel! It may be a bit before I get it up (but I swear, it wont be longer than a month!) since I need to update my other stories (I have found a threat that scares me even more than the chainsaw, amazingly enough, and so I'm rather inclined to obey it T.T don't hurt my arse, plz...I work better with my arse intact...)
the last song is the translation of 'Pride Of Tomorrow', by June, which is one of DGM's... either openings or endings, but I don't really remember right now, sorry. But it's one of them.
I stayed up LITERALLY to 4 AM to bring this to you, so... thank the lord for the weekend!!
(note: The idea for Allen's escape from the fire was inspired by the story of the fiery furnace in the bible. I was planning to say something, but by the end, this was already ten pages long.)
So, here I leave you, sword plays in my head, Ares the Vargant Soldier in my eyes, and sleep on my mind! If anyone likes, it'd be AWESOME to see a picture of Allen as I've deformed him to look (Allen: ...what? Why is everyone surprised I'm not killing her? If I killed her she wouldn't be able to finish the story!...well duh, I want her to finish!!) ...um... okay. Sooo... as I was typing... never mind, draw it if you'd like, send me a link, and I love you forever!!
Also, submit whatever you'd like to see in the epilogue! I already have a few events plnned out for stuff like Christmas and the end of the War, but everywhere in between is just waiting to be filled in, and if I don't get some ideas fast, it'll be nothing but philosophy and character's pasts... they'll sneak in there anyway, but gimme some beef! WHERE'S THE BEEF?!
DRAW/AKKY LOVED YOU ALL 8D (oh... right... disclaimer: Meesa doosa nata own teh fawsomenss tat ish D.Gray-Man. If you could translate that, good for you!)