#divinegem

Shiro was alarmed. Not at the environment around him but his own internal reaction to it. He had gained consiousness in what seemed to be a war zone, chaos spilling out in the streets, but when faced with it all there was was a calm acceptance. A thought of what he should do next to take control of this situation in his mind. It was efficient and clinical. The way he would want to ask if he was still in the academy in a trip simulation, but he never expected to look onto violence in front of him this way. It was probably just, his head hurting from whatever knocked him out before this. Shiro closed his eyes and tried to remember. Blurry, and inconsistent as usual. 

Well that was pointless. He reached up to pat himself on the forehead. With his mechanical limb. At lest this time he had bothered to take his voltron armor off, now that it was in its current useless state. The touch of metal cooled his head. The sensation distracted him from thoughts that maybe he had just gotten used to violence after all. He began to look around in more detail, if there was this much going on perhaps there could be somewhere where he could help. He finally spotted it, a small figure being surrounded by three individuals. 

Shiro ran forward before he had even thought of a proper plan. He was throwing himself fully into the swing of things. First off, wide swing of his metal arm, it bashed the leader of whatever these attackers were straight in the head and knocked him forward, and out. The other two immediately tried to jump on Shiro and he relied on his military reflexes, he pulled the first one to swing forward by catching his hit and redirecting it, using him as a shield so the attacker would hit his friend. Shiro moved forward and finished the last one off with a metal elbow bash to the back of his head. 

     The sight of a child dashing into an alleyway wouldn’t have caused as much concern if it had happened a few weeks earlier. He himself had been a child in this city once, they existed despite it being a truly unfortunate circumstance. However, currently the sight of his escape brought with it nothing but worry. Once out of view, adults stormed in the same direction before ultimately splitting up, not knowing where the young boy had run off to. None went down the alley he had, but each path connected with one another. If he continued in the direction he was going in, they’d find him again and Aladdin doubted they had pure intentions. 

     Thankfully, the child had stopped halfway, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. 

           The city's central market had been booming with crowds of people, as per usual. Though boisterous as ever, Noé had learned to drown out most of the surrounding ambience. He frequented this area more so than ever, the distractions it posed gave him certain comfort—it served as a momentary aid to forget about the new challenges that now awaited him. Yet as much as he had tried, he couldn't seem to forget at all. All sorts of little trinkets his purple hues set upon would remind him of his past, his home. Those thoughts in turn would stir up his emotions, though he dare not cry—he was passed the point of shedding wasteful tears. 

As he hummed over his thoughts, his index finger prodded at a certain ornament, one in the shape of a cat. "I wonder... how Murr fares... is he well...? ... I—" Consequent to hearing a faint, distressed voice, one belonging to a child no doubt, did his words come to an abrupt halt. "... Hm?" His figure swung around, and he began to follow the voice which was loud enough to hear through the mass of people walking about. After turning a corner had he come into sight, the child in question, and from the looks of it, it seemed as though he were yelling at another individual, the one across from him. "Excuse me! What seems to be the problem?" As Noé approached, he observed both participates in the dispute, and as he glanced at the child, he could see tears slightly brimming in his eyes.

          A voice rings out in the chaos. That's all Allen needs to hear before he turns, seeing three much older men corner a young child whom he suspected to have something that seemed abnormal to them. People were merciless in who they targeted, children were not exempt from this. The ones who couldn't properly defend themselves were more likely to be targeted, it seemed. Allen wastes no time in approaching the situation, a hand firmly grasping onto one of their shoulders, making them turn around only to be met with a punch. 

         That's enough to make the other two jump into action, but Allen takes care of them easily as well. And then his attention is brought to the child in front of him. Green hair, brown eyes, that familiar orb situated on his forehead--there was no doubt about it. ❝ Timothy? ❞ He bends forward and yes indeed it is Timothy, someone who he hadn't seen in a very long time. Allen can feel the tears almost brimming in his eyes, but quickly wipes them away before holding out his hand.

         ❝ I need you to stay close to me, okay? We're going home. There’s no time to answer any questions. ❞