#ca prodegression

--In the span of what was just a few fleeting moments, Yuu had lost everything--dreams, aspirations, warmth... and more importantly everyone he had even cared for dead; the entirety of the Hyakuya Orphanage fallen to the likes of a wretched, noble blood sucker. He had been so powerless to stop any of it, too, having bore witness to the likes of all those small bodies hitting the floor in irregular ways, crimson splashing across white marble flooring as shrill screams still rebounded about his ear drums.  But most importantly, the one person he had cared for more than anyone else, the single and most significant presence in his life to have made such an impacting difference had been left for dead, because he was so weak.. Mikaela had been dying in his arms, his blood now stained across the front of his clothes that once bound him as cattle to those vampires. The regret of not having enough physical capabilities to carry Mikaela with him... to bring him to the outside world awaiting him down the long, winding exit was an agonizing one; one couldn’t help but wonder: Why? Why is the world so cruel? Hadn’t enough been taken from them? Hadn’t they lost enough..?

Mika.... Mika...! Uu... Mika... I’m sorry... I’m sorry, I’m--

“Ugh... uu..... why.... WHYYYYY---?!”

But as he tumbled out into the gateway that lead to the outside world, Yuu found himself colliding into the likes of more pavement, snow covered and icy at that, slipping and colliding into the likes of a large sloshing puddle as a result. His palms and feet now numbing with cold and a dull ache, the rest of him absolutely soaked to the bone, a reddened nose sniffled as Yuu looked towards the crowds of people surrounding him, absolutely baffled by it all. What was this? Why were there so many people suddenly walking around like nothing was wrong? What about the disease that had wiped them all out..? What about all the stories of how the surface was unhabitable..? Was.... that all a lie, after all..?

Perched precariously upon a precipice a few feet higher than what most would consider head-height on the side of a road, Xane pondered.a conundrum. Well, insofar as a man who’s suddenly found himself regressed to a pre-teen child can ponder something - focus was not exactly Xane’s strong suit, and it had only been worse when he was young.

What he had been pondering was this: If I’ve gone back in time, if I’m how I was five hundred years ago in body and mind... why do I still have all my memories? And why don’t they feel like they’re mine?

He’d just been about to abandon the train of thought in favour of something more fun, when he’d seen a familiar head of hair amid the passersby below. One of the only two people he knew who’d dealt with aught like this before, although probably nothing that much like this, and someone he was absolutely certain would be trustworthy - but Xane didn’t get caught up in that sort of thing anyway, not like he used to (or was that ‘not like he would?. He shuddered at the thought. Honestly, the older him was such a paranoid flake! He never wanted to end up like that).

But on the other hand, he’d been about to go and do something fun... He decided to compromise, and jumped.

One flash of tell-tale purple light, one acrobatic flip in the air, and one graceful three-point landing later, the being that landed in front of Morgan... was also Morgan. Xane grinned to himself, being sure that the inner grin didn’t leak onto the outer face. This was the key point. Here, now, he had to imitate the boy as convincingly as possible. That meant his mannerisms, his voice, his vocabulary, anything that wasn’t already handled by his Chameleon abilities.

“Hold, evildoer!” He cried, whilst striking a pose reminiscent of nothing more than a melodramatic fop, “wherefore does thy countenance mimic mine? What most diabolical villainy dost thou intend to lay blame on me for?”

Amidst the winter snow, everything seemed quiet and still. Right there, right then, the city seemed at peace. It was beautiful. It didn’t last.

There was, suddenly, a loud sound and a localised shower of snow. Something had landed in a snowdrift with little grace and less dignity.

There’s a burst of immature giggling even before it happens - but it does still happen. The laughter only intensifies as the front door of the apartment building, deliberately left slightly ajar, is opened - and the precariously perched bucket of water on top proceeds to fall and pour its ice-cold contents all over the unfortunate victim.

An old trick, to some. Less so, to those who come from a world forever trapped in medieval times.

... Having been separated from Rouga somewhere along their wandering, Kyouya had luckily been found by the patrolling Ryuuenji Tasuku who had saved him from the bitter chill of Hive’s culminating winter weather. Being given piping hot food (almost as good as home’s!) and a blanket to snuggle up in, Kyouya had found himself finding another more important target of interest.. That being Tasuku’s lap. Easily crawling over and curling against that firmer torso, rounded cheeks no sooner began to nuzzle into the fabric of the elder’s clothes, humming contently as Kyouya made himself completely at home. It was tough to deny his quick infatuation despite having just met Tasuku a few hours prior...

“Rouga.....” The two children were trudging the bustling terrain of a beaten down city, one that was neither the slums, nor the futuristic backdrop that towered over it. This place was one shrouded in an eerie sort of darkness, one that such a pampered mind like Kyouya’s couldn’t even fathom as much as he was. It was just a conglomerate of boring, tall buildings, nothing suspicious to his innocent rationale. And as tiny gloveless fingers held on tightly to those more callous within his, he sought any type of warmth he could, bellyaching all the while per usual on such a short noticed long stride. 

“Rouga... I’m tired... and it’s cold..”