┐(￣ー￣)┌ '┐(￣ヮ￣)┌

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Noachian

– Salutation –

- o0o -

Allen didn't look to be doing too well at the moment. He lay curled up on his side, shivering, an unearthly glow emanating from his left arm.

Then, naturally, there was the hovering Tyki Mikk, who looked torn in-between worry and the urge to destroy something, and Bak, who seemed to be struggling with similar emotions.

Then there was Fou, who was nowhere in sight. Or, well, Lavi could certainly pick up on her emotions, broadcasted throughout the barrier, even if he could not pinpoint her exact location.

"What's going on?" he asked softly.

The question was directed at anyone really, anyone within earshot at any rate. Even so, that left a fairly limited selection of people who could humour him; Bak, who had barely even acknowledged his presence, Wong, who had nodded politely and then ignored him, Fou, who didn't seem keen on talking to anyone, and finally Kanda, who stood outside the room with his back against the wall, having assumed this very position shortly after shoving Lavi inside the room.

The rest of Bak's crew had completely vacated the upstairs, so there was no talking to them. Not that they were likely to know anything particular and−

Lavi's thoughts came to an abrupt stop, because suddenly, there were eyes upon him. And, as he realised as he turned his head, they were not just anyone's eyes; Tyki Mikk was staring at him quite openly now.

At first, it had been just a fleeting glance, but something had caused the man – if he could even be called such – to pause and just stare at him. The pupils, which looked more split than round now, widened momentarily and then narrowed; it was a look of grim realisation, if Lavi ever saw one, and he flinched involuntarily at the sudden flare of negative energy.

Bak was back on his feet in an instant. For a moment, he looked as though he was about to start shouting, but apparently, something in Tyki Mikk's demeanour gave him a pause and caused him to turn his attention towards Lavi instead.

For several moments, there were no movements. Then, Bak made a sign for Wong, and Lavi felt a chill run down his spine. The bad feeling only intensified as Bak held his hands up slightly as if trying to appear nonthreatening. "Lavi," he said, sounding calm but firm. "Take a seat."

Lavi didn't need to be told twice, flopping down onto the floor right then and there. "What's going on?" he asked again, and it sounded a lot more like he was pleading.

"We're trying to figure that out," Bak said, the very image of forced calm as he shone a small flashlight into Lavi's eyes. "Just stay still for a bit. I need to check something."

Lavi swallowed. His mouth suddenly felt very dry. "Am I…?"

Bak said nothing for several moments, eyebrows knitted together in concentration. Then finally− "Have you visited any graveyards in Scotland as of late, Lavi?"

Uh… "Maybe?"

The look in Bak's eyes sharpened. "What brought you to Greyfriars?" he asked.

"I was looking into his background," Lavi readily admitted, pointing. "I was just chasing down a lead, and then someone decided to punch me in the stomach."

Okay, so maybe he hadn't been chasing down a lead as much as wallowed in how he had not managed to uncover more information. But the getting punched in the stomach part was all true, and going by the look on Bak's face, he and Kanda would be having words after this.

"Still," Bak said, finally turning off the flashlight. "What brought this on? We know what likely came of it, but I don't recall ever hearing an explanation as to what triggered your search…"

Lavi averted his eyes; his ventures back home seemed like an entire lifetime ago, really.

"Does it matter?" he said, just as Kanda spoke up from the other side. "He started dreaming."

Lavi felt a sting of betrayal for some reason. Logically he shouldn't have, because he had not exactly sworn Kanda to silence or told him anything in confidence. Not consciously at any rate. Still−

"Dreaming?" Bak repeated and looked as though he was about to say something more.

Someone else beat him to it however. "What did you see, boy?"

Tyki Mikk's eyes were resting upon him again, but the oppressive darkness lurking around that end of the room had receded somewhat, no longer ready to pounce upon him. Instead Lavi felt it watching him curiously, but also knowingly. Lavi was inadvertently reminded by something, something just on the edge of his consciousness. Yes… a dark presence. A dark presence with a grin stretched inhumanly wide below two round luminescent−

"Say hello to Allen for me."

For a second, it was as though she had been standing right behind him, lurking in his shadow. No, like he could almost feel her watching. But she wasn't watching him, no, she was watching through him. Then, in the next moment, the feeling was already gone.

Lavi swallowed. "Uh…I was told to say hello?"

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There was darkness all around him, thick and oppressive.

The situation proved alarmingly familiar, and he felt a distinct stab of panic, breath hitching as he recognised the scent of flowers and the smell of wet earth. He realised he was back inside a coffin, and it did not seem to matter that he knew it was likely just a dream, just a nightmare crafted from rehashed memories, but−

He pressed his hands up against the lid; it felt as solid and real as anything else.

It was just a dream, just a dream, just a bloody nightmare, but− he hated this, really.

"Calm down," he hissed at himself, hating his own weakness. Because he was over this, really. He should have been over it at least, and these memories really had no business rearing their ugly heads now, after all this time. Granted, the whole Noah affair had torn things up again, but−

"Calm down."

But−

"Just−"

Wake up, he thought to himself, and wasn't that easier said than done? Totally.

Because while the box− no, casket – was big enough, it still felt much too small and the darkness inside it was suffocating. It felt as though he had been buried again, and completely this time around, and like he would run out of air any minute now.

"Please−" he heard himself say; his voice sounded weird, almost like− "No more of this… I−"

No. It was bad, sure, but he would endure it. Begging was pathetic and getting worked up inside of a dreamscape was pointless. Besides, Allen knew better than to beg these days, because even in places such as this one, you never knew who could possibly be listening in. Heck, Allen was positive they might even be lurking somewhere in the deep, just waiting for such an opportunity to arise. After all, if one showed weakness, then−

There was a knock from above. It set off another flare of panic in his gut, but Allen resolutely pushed it back down. "What do you want?"

His voice sounded harsh, even to his own ears. It hardly mattered though. Besides, it was decidedly better to keep your guard up because it gave far fewer opportunities for others to stab you, either up front or in the back. But in any case−

"Allen."

The voice was decidedly familiar, but no less horror-inducing. He would rather die than show it though, really. "Road."

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"You were told to say hello?" Bak repeated, and well, putting it like that, it did sound kind of insane.

Still− "My memory of the event isn't exactly… clear, but I think she helped me out, and− Besides, compared to last time I encountered her, she seemed almost friendly?"

Yeah, and that sounded even more insane.

"No, he's not possessed; I checked that already," Bak said, likely in response to some communication from Fou. "But I guess we can't exclude the possibility someone might have tampered with his−"

And now they were talking about him rather than to him. Ouch.

"This entire house is Fou's territory, and nothing enters or leaves without her notice… even stowaways−"

Even stowa-whats now?

There was a slight snort, emerging from none other than Tyki Mikk. "Road would likely have found a way inside, even if she hadn't managed to hitch a ride with him," he said, resting two fingers against the side of Allen's throat. "Now quiet down. I'm trying to focus here."

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"Why are you here?" Allen asked, as the darkness above him rippled and then gradually began to melt away.

Above him, the lid grew more and more transparent until it was more like a glass pane than a wooden one, and on the other side was Road, floating as if submerged in water. Only her hands were grounded, placed right above Allen's own.

"Why shouldn't I be here?"she countered, a bit mischievously now. "You've never explicitly forbidden me from entering your dreams."

Allen could not recall having explicitly sanctioned it either. Still− "Why?"

She said nothing at first, amusement fading out of her expression. "I was asked to deliver a message."

Allen narrowed his eyes at her. "Let me guess… He told you to tell me that I'm a dead man walking?"

She narrowed her eyes right back at him. "You will be if you don't take us up on the offer," she said.

Right. "I'm not signing away my freedom again. It ended quite badly last time around, for all parties involved, don't you agree?" he snapped, giving the lid a slight kick for good measure.

As expected, it hardly even budged, and neither did Road. If anything, she only got closer. "Allen, Allen, Allen…" she said. "Holy Water and a sealing is just a temporary measure; surely you realise that? Such measures might weaken us temporarily, but it takes much greater effort to deal more permanent damage."

Yeah, Allen had kind of figured. Still− "If you're here to gripe about the shoddy sealing technique, then you're barking up the wrong tree. I wasn't exactly myself at the time."

"Fair enough," Road agreed. "Still−"

"Still?"

"How long are you planning to remain in there, Allen?" she asked, her eyes a glimmering slightly.

Really. "I'm trapped."

Road eyed him as if he had said something very stupid. "That box is an illusion, Allen," she said. "You have to think outside it."

Yeah, that was easy for her to say. Still, she did not seem very keen on harming him at the moment, so− "How do I get out?"

Something undeniably calculating entered her gaze. "If I tell you, what do I get in return?"

Yeah, it would come to that. And Allen knew it couldn't be anything good. Still− "What do you want?"

She considered him solemnly. "I want Him to be happy again," she said at last. "He has been crying since he woke up."

Oh, so He had woken up, eh? Fuck. "And how the heck am I supposed to help with that?" Allen hissed. Because− "I'm not offering up my body, life or soul just to make that guy happy!"

Not to make anyone happy. Period. Except maybe−

Road made a slight grimace. "Ew…"

Well, that served her right for invading his dreams and peeking on his thoughts, didn't it? In any case− "Move over. I'm breaking out of this goddamned casket."

It proved surprisingly doable once he had put his mind to it; not easy by any means, but certainly doable. And if his feet, knees and fingers ached and bled, he paid it no mind, because guess what? It wasn't real.

In any case, Road was still there by the time he finally clawed himself out and heaved himself up over the edge of the dugout grave.

"One of these days, I'm going to find whoever did this and−" −bury them, preferably in an unalive state.

Despite likely having picked up on the direction of Allen's thoughts, Road made no comment, not about that at any rate. "So," she said at last, dangling her legs over the edge of the old headstone she had picked as her latest perch. "About that offer…"

Allen was tempted to tell her just where to shove that offer. Still, her presence had served as a great distraction from the mounting panic and for some reason, she did seem an awful lot saner compared to the last time around, so…

"I'll go ahead and take that as a compliment," Road said, bending down slightly to pick up her umbrella.

Allen straightened up, brushing some wet earth off of his coat. Wait… coat?

"Don't question it," he heard Road say. "Dreams don't adhere to rationality."

Well, it sounded true enough. But since those words had come from Road, Allen knew better than to trust them outright. In any case− "Why am I here? Why are you here and why should I listen to what you have to say?"

That was an excellent question; Allen ought to make use of it far more often.

"You don't have to listen," Road said, jumping down. "As long as you still watch, that is."

And if Allen frankly wanted to do neither?

"What you do is up to you," Road informed him, unfolding her umbrella. "We are willing to reconcile," she went on, giving it a slight twirl. "Are you?"

Well, frankly, no. That said however− "Who are 'we'?"

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