lostcarnival | wandering clown

Who: Allen and YOU
When: Day 90
Where: Throughout the carnival
What: Allen getting acclimated and being a tool

The Cookhouse

[Allen was in a bad way when he stumbled into the Carnival--literally fell through a wall and found himself here. Barely conscious and desperate, he signed a contract with the Ringleader, buying himself some time. If he had passed out, he would have woken as another person. Now, with her suppressing the memory of Nea, he can sleep. He can recuperate while he learns how to beat the demon inside him.

But first, he must eat. And, following his nose, he beelines for the smell of food.

For those who wander into the Cookhouse early in the day, they will find a young boy devouring a mountain of food. No, seriously. The precariously stacked pile of meats, desserts, pastas, and sweets towers high above the tables, almost touching the ceiling. It sways as Allen tugs a leg of lamb from the bottom and promptly stuffs it in his mouth. The speed at which he eats causes cream and scraps to go flying. It's a messy, terrifying affair that honestly belongs in a cartoon.

Will you stare in horror? Play Food Jenga? The choice is yours.]

Wandering Through the Woods

[If you want to understand something, you might want to go to the beginning. Allen decides he needs to get to know this new, temporary place at which he's staying, so he heads toward the woods.

What do you get when you combine an enchanted forest that turns you back around and an incredible skill for getting lost? A pathetic mess, that's what.

Allen sprints through the trees, emerging again at the forest's edge. He's irritably scratching behind his right ear, where two white feathers have erupted the skin, just beginning to grow. A bulbous golden orb with wings limps through the air behind him.]

Seriously?! [He shouts to the sky:] Is this really all there is?!

Recuperating

[Thoroughly frustrated with the failure that was the forest, he finally finds the lake. Finally, a place he can explore and rest. Taking a moment to clean himself up, he takes off his shirt, kicks off his boots, and rolls up his baggy clown pants. Allen gingerly lowers himself to the water's edge, dipping his bare feet in the shallows.

Anyone walking by may notice the old scar running from his shoulder to his opposite hip, mirrored on both chest and back. A newer wound festers in his stomach, twitching tendrils of white feathers emerging from it. They are made of a divine substance, and it's healing him from within.

Still, it's completely disgusting, and he's in obvious pain.]

Exploring the Mountains

[Once he's gathered enough strength to continue, he pulls on his shirt and trudges up that strange, warm path leading up the mountain. It's practically calling to him, the unknown.

It takes him about thirty seconds to get lost. In the mountains. Alone.

This is it. This is the end for him. RIP Allen Walker.]

((I'll match prose if that's your preference!))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Allen whips 'round to the voice, revealing the extent of his injuries: upon closer inspection, Yamato may realize the old scar is from a broadsword piercing through his torso, and the hole in his gut is from a long, thin blade--a katana, specifically.

Twisting like that stretches the fresh wound, though, and he grins through the wince, scrambling for his shirt to cover the newer injury.]

Oh--no, I'm fine, thank you. [HE IS NOT FINE.

In fact, it's obvious from the myriad of smaller scars across his body, he's been fighting all his life. He's just been through more hell than usual recently.]

[ Yeah, he's not buying the whole looking fine thing - come back and tell him that he looks fine when you don't have way too many wounds littered across your body, Allen. He can't exactly identify the difference between the types of wounds, but when he steps close enough to the edge of the lake, he can tell that it still looks bad. ]

You're new here, right? Have you gone to see the doctor for those, yet? [ Vague gestures of concern towards the injuries and the old scars.

... He's also not too familiar with what even to do with what clearly looks like battle injuries, although he also can't help but stare at the feather-like things that are... trying to heal his wound? Magic of some sort, he's guessing. ]

[Magic is the closest term for it, yes. A magical parasite, anyway.

Allen, on his part, just stares a moment, blankly. Realization in three . . . two . . . one . . . Ding!]

You have doctors?

[He hadn't even considered it. And going by his tone, he still isn't.]

[ ... well then. It's okay Allen, it took him a while to figure out there was a medical tent, too.

Except that Yamato isn't the one who looks like his body went through the shredder, or something. ]

Yeah, we do. I think some of them are good with magic wounds? [ He's actually not entirely sure, but he's heard talk about it... ] I can take you there later, if you like. [ He can't help but look at the wounds again, wincing once more. ] Those look. Really painful.

[Allen chuckles, nervous and just a tad self-deprecating. He doesn't want to bother anyone with his problems, and his ridiculous pride makes him think he's strong enough to handle anything. Add in his recklessness, and it's a Bad Combination.]

Oh, that won't be necessary. You don't have to bother, really. If you could point me in the general direction, I'll be just fine.

[He smiles far-too bright and taps his own shoulder, the scar that runs across his entire chest]

This is an old scar, anyway. The only problem is my stomach, and it's already healing nicely on its own, so!

[ Listen, Allen, he doesn't know you yet, but he knows your Type, and ridiculous pride and recklessness? He's used to punching them in the face until they see his way. Let's just hope that Yamato doesn't have to actually consider, or god forbid, actually punch Allen in the face and drag him to the medical tent when he finds out, okay?

He's going to frown, though. ]

Are you sure? Going alone could be dangerous.

[ Also, he's definitely not looking very convinced by Allen's words. He's gonna call bullshit. ]

Also, that stomach wound does not look like it's healing well. [ Yeah it's healing, sure, but magic feathers aren't... exactly the most convincing remedy to someone who doesn't know much of how magical healing works. Bear with him here. ]

[To be honest, the magical healing is only healing so much. Seeing a doctor wouldn't kill him. With the face that Allen makes, however, he thinks otherwise.]

They're not the mad scientist sort of doctor, are they . . . ?

[Look, he's been through some Shit with crazy science types "fixing" his arm with a drill, and he is not about that life. He'd rather suffer in peace]

wandering clown

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