Asch the Bloody (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dissonates) wrote2010-11-25 06:06 am
dissonates) wrote2010-11-25 06:06 am
Entry tags:
[Action / Accidental Voice]
[There isn't much less pleasant than waking up cold and alone, is there? Which is exactly how Asch finds himself this morning- on his own in a tent behind the battle dome, no longer an adult but rather regressed to the tender age of about 11. In his haste to get up and figure out what's going on, he knocks over the journal, and it catches his alarmed call as he opens the tent flap to find a lot of snow and not much else.]
...Master Van...?
[This isn't the cozy, temperate region of Daath, which is puzzling, because he knows he'd been in Daath the night before. Where, then...?]
Master Van!
[Had he been abandoned? No... Van had said he needed him! There must be a reason for this.
Not noticing the journal, Asch tucks the blanket around himself and starts shuffling out through the snow, wandering into the village in search of something - anything - familiar.]
...Master Van...?
[This isn't the cozy, temperate region of Daath, which is puzzling, because he knows he'd been in Daath the night before. Where, then...?]
Master Van!
[Had he been abandoned? No... Van had said he needed him! There must be a reason for this.
Not noticing the journal, Asch tucks the blanket around himself and starts shuffling out through the snow, wandering into the village in search of something - anything - familiar.]
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Your wings should be proof enough.
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They're not real. They can't be real. It's all wrong.
[Or maybe he's just denying that he could feel them on his back earlier.]
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