Actually, I think it's sort of reassuring. [ Something nice. If very personal. Because when he explains it like that, isn't it kind of like when he held Lenalee's hand in the Ark? To give strength and support, right? Just... in this case... it's more literal. And intangible. ] Because you know...
[ Relaxing a little—allowing himself to relax to something so foreign, maybe—Allen's own mana signature seeps out like it'd been unconsciously dammed before. Just a trickle at first, uncurling. Like sunlight through a crack.
And Allen's eyes hood a little, white lashes over grey, as he speaks a little more softly. ]
Someone told me that here we're all connected by the powers of this world. That that means we're all responsible to each other, to fight together and for each other. [ That trickle—like he's still holding back his own mana, if that's even possible, like he instinctively fought with himself at the connection—flares a little. The connection between them more an actual connection. Becomes clearer. Brighter. ]
And that because it exists, we're not alone. [ And because we're not alone...
He smiles again, this time bright and certain, eyes lifting up to the other man's as he gives his hand a small but firm squeeze and nods. Like a reaffirmation. A vow. ]
I don't think I really understood what he meant until now...
...But I'll believe it too.
[ And with that vow is Allen and not him just bottling himself up. Because whatever transference there was before with him holding himself back to something tepid and uncertain about the contact—that was nothing compared to this. Like latching on suddenly. Something bright and cool-hot and strong, such a tumble of emotions that it's just searing. Sadness, joy, longing, regret—faith. Like if it were light it'd be something too bright to look at that redefines white itself into heat.
2/3
[ Not when Sion explains it like that. ]
Actually, I think it's sort of reassuring. [ Something nice. If very personal. Because when he explains it like that, isn't it kind of like when he held Lenalee's hand in the Ark? To give strength and support, right? Just... in this case... it's more literal. And intangible. ] Because you know...
[ Relaxing a little—allowing himself to relax to something so foreign, maybe—Allen's own mana signature seeps out like it'd been unconsciously dammed before. Just a trickle at first, uncurling. Like sunlight through a crack.
And Allen's eyes hood a little, white lashes over grey, as he speaks a little more softly. ]
Someone told me that here we're all connected by the powers of this world. That that means we're all responsible to each other, to fight together and for each other. [ That trickle—like he's still holding back his own mana, if that's even possible, like he instinctively fought with himself at the connection—flares a little. The connection between them more an actual connection. Becomes clearer. Brighter. ]
And that because it exists, we're not alone. [ And because we're not alone...
He smiles again, this time bright and certain, eyes lifting up to the other man's as he gives his hand a small but firm squeeze and nods. Like a reaffirmation. A vow. ]
I don't think I really understood what he meant until now...
...But I'll believe it too.
[ And with that vow is Allen and not him just bottling himself up. Because whatever transference there was before with him holding himself back to something tepid and uncertain about the contact—that was nothing compared to this. Like latching on suddenly. Something bright and cool-hot and strong, such a tumble of emotions that it's just searing. Sadness, joy, longing, regret—faith. Like if it were light it'd be something too bright to look at that redefines white itself into heat.
Kind of like his sword.
Unabashed. ]