dissonates | [Action] (backdated to the 18th)

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[Action] (backdated to the 18th)

[Since this happened, Asch hasn't been entirely sure what to do with himself. He eats breakfast, he reads a little. He wanders through the village for a while, aimlessly and calm despite the bad news. It's a normal day. A nice day, even. Luceti is blissfully aware of his loss, and he likes it that way. There is no house to burn, no alcohol to waste, no friend to garner comfort from. There's the village, and there's the memories, and there's that coldness in his heart creeping up again. As usual. It's just another going-home situation, and that's become typical of this place. Maybe people are happy. She's gone back. She's free.

She's dead.

He needs to hit something, so he goes to the Battle Dome for a while. Normal. Everything is normal.

Eventually he'll make his way north- first to House 34, to get whatever Norma has for him. Then he moves on to the cherry blossom trees beyond the edge of the village. And then, finally, he finishes his wandering in the woods not far from the 2nd apartment building, tucked under a tree with a pad of paper and a few pieces of charcoal. He'll be there until the sun gets too low to see.

After that, well... who knows. But he won't return to the apartment until well after dark.]

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[... Crap.

Luke's eyes widen almost comically when he realizes that Asch saw what he was doing, as if he were a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His hands tangle together behind him, and he raises his shoulders sheepishly as he looks off to the side, lips pressed together for a second.]

Sorry... I shouldn't have looked.

[Within those ten minutes, Asch has gotten a program set up in the battle dome's computers- actually, an old favourite of his by now. The hall of Eldrant that claimed his life, fighting off a dozen or so Oracle Knight replicas, defending the door through which his replica had escaped beforehand. He's gotten better, just a little better each time. There are so many things he knows he could have done differently. A more powerful arte, here. Stabbing his blade just a few inches lower, there. Dodging at the last second, focusing on the battle's end before contacting Luke. Ensuring the deaths of his opponents before allowing himself a moment to relax. He's gotten stronger, faster in the three years he's spent in Luceti.

Not that it matters anymore or can change anything in the grand scheme of things; he's still dead when he goes home. But it feels good - and somewhat vindictive, perhaps - to have earned that victory, even if it is too late.]

No, you shouldn't have. [At least he can admit that much. Asch turns back to the food, retrieving his plate from the microwave and setting it down on the table with a fork and a glass of water. Go away, replica, you're stupid and nosy and you're in the way.] I guess I shouldn't have expected some defective replica to know better.

[There's no real venom in his tone, only a calm, cold dismissal; in a way, that's worse than the more passionate insults he's offered in the past.]

Oh, I'm visiting you. You seemed a little sad.

[She looks over at him.] Do you miss Stella, too?

[That makes Luke just want to walk out of there and leave Asch alone. The cold dismissal, rather than the usual snapping remark...

But instead, he sits at the other end of the table, head ducked slightly while glancing up at Asch. The food he made was chicken soup with white rice mixed in, and a few more pieces of chicken. Perhaps it's just slightly too salty, but otherwise, it's rather good. It's hard to screw up chicken soup, after all.]

I'm not just some replica... [He may be a replica, but... He's more than that. He knows it.

But the argument is quiet, as if he doesn't want this to turn into another fight. Instead, he'd rather watch to see what he thinks of the meal... and if he has anything to say about the sketches.]

[Wait, what. Did he really just--...why the sudden interest? Miyabi quirks a brow, setting down her groceries by the trunk of the tree. Something deep down tells her this isn't going to be about her...which makes the painter somewhat uncomfortable. She still couldn't paint, and if he asked her to...she'd hate to refuse, but--ugh.]

I've painted since I was able to hold a brush in my hand, and maybe even before that, with my hands. We poncles are taught to love art in every form...and we're taught by a skilled master. [Ishaku was the sixth Celestial Envoy. Even if he was pretty strict sometimes, he was a very good teacher.] We practice until he deems us good enough, or when our paintings, our art, can instill strong emotion into the hearts of those looking into them.

I've been alive for many, many years...and I'm still not good enough. My paintings don't do that...and now--

[Oops, too much. Clamming up now.]

[...Well that was weird.]

And now?

[That might give him a moment to ponder the rest of what she said, at least. Still not good enough? So she's overly critical, then? Maybe it's an artist thing. He's never satisfied with what he draws, either, but he knows why, at least.]

Hmph. [Asch doesn't bother with a response, taking a few spoonfulls of the soup and focusing simply on that. He doesn't want to argue. Or, if he does, he's putting it off until he's good and ready. He'd done his share of fighting already- the battle dome, Van, all the inner turmoil he'd experienced over the last several hours. Enough is enough, right?

But then, it's not often that he isn't at war with something or other. It's just how it is now. Has been for years.

Enjoy the awkward silence, Luke, you'll get quite a few of them before the night is over.]

That's no one's business. [Especially not a stranger.]

[Since Luke already ate and isn't hungry, all he can do is sit awkwardly in the midst of such silence. Well... At least Asch is taking several bites instead of just one and then pushing the meal away. A small part of Luke is pleased to see that.

He wants to find something to talk about... After swinging his legs a little, Luke glances at the sketchbook again before he looks up with a half smile.]

You, uh... You're really amazing at drawing! I don't think I could ever do anything like that...

It's okay. It's all right to be sad when one of your friends goes away.

It's nothing.

[Her smile, brief as it is, is deceptive. And final. Miyabi's not willing to talk about her penalty right now. Even if she painted some, it's still strange and kind of scary for her. Her margin of error increased tenfold, and the anxiety of screwing up made her uncomfortable even speaking about painting. But when she did, moments ago, there was warmth in her voice - passion. Miyabi missed it.

But this isn't about her right now. She goes to sit on one of the huge roots of the towering cherry tree, finishing off her bean bun.]

Why are you really here, Asch? Are you interested in art now? [Because, man, she does not believe that completely.]

You're talking about the sketches you had no right to look at, now?

[Siiiip. The replica totally walked into that one. Asch glances down at the soup, his expression a mixture of annoyance and dismissal. Too much salt. For someone who likes sweets so much, why does he always add too much salt?]

...Regardless, you should know better. Practice helps.

I'm not interested in feeling anything like that. It happens too often here.

[Well, that's a clear message if he's ever gotten one. He nods, though, not pressing it; he hates when people try to harass him about his issues, after all, so responding in kind would be unfair. He sits down in the grass a few feet away, tugging a sketchbook from beneath his tabard and setting it down between them.]

I can draw. But I can't draw like you. There's no life in what I put on paper.

[Usually, he doesn't care. Truth be told, he doesn't even notice.

Not today, though. Not this time. He needs this to be special, just once.]

Oh, but you can't help your feelings. [No matter how hard you try to change them, they'll still be your feelings.]

Don't assume anything about me. You don't even know me.

Not yet. But I'm sure we'll be wonderful friends soon.

Edited 2011-10-23 02:26 (UTC)

[Immediately, something inside of her seems to trigger. She takes the picture and studies it. Black and white...it's a little somber this way, but that doesn't hinder her completely. Perhaps for a moment, Miyabi's shoulders drop and her body language shifts to a more depressing stance, but...then she picks herself up quickly, groping around the roots for her bag. Her bag filled with the art supplies she hasn't touches in weeks now.

Somewhere, somewhere...ha! There. Unfurling a cloth on her lap, she takes out a stick of charcoal, well used so it has a slight point.]

...I'm not a teacher, and I'm not a master. I'm still learning myself, but...there isn't life here, you're right. What I can say is that the body, the face, everything has a certain fluidity... [And she begins scrawling in the lower, unused corner of the picture. It's a similar picture, but at a different angel, with more movement and life.] You can't just look at the world and expect it so stand still for you. You capture the world as it is - moving, breathing...living.

[When she's done, she hands the sketchpad back to Asch.] I can't teach you how to add life to things; that's something you'll have to learn for yourself. I can only show you your errors, and correct them.

And why would you assume something like that?

[He watches her quietly for a long moment, then studies the sketches, comparing the two. Even though hers is small, he can see the differences already- the movement, the flow of each line, the way it's drawn. He's never drawn anything in motion before, only by memory, a moment frozen in time. Like drawing a statue, still and lifeless. It could be detailed and beautiful and still just as dead inside.

So that's why...

Closing his eyes briefly, he glances over at the nearest cherry tree, its branches blowing in the breeze. It has a life to it, even though the tree itself isn't moving about. Like the spirits of this place, it has colour, energy, force. Like fonons, there's a flow in all things.

Fonons... why didn't that occur to him before? Since childhood he's learned to feel the flow of life through everything- himself, his surroundings, his enemies. This place, and the people here, may not have the same exact cells, but they have an energy to them much like the fonons he's used to. All he needs to do, instead of using the fonons he observes to create a glyph, is to create an image instead.

And then not blow it up. ...Right. Focusing silently, he lifts a piece of charcoal and begins to draw.]

Oh, because once we understand each other a little better, then we'll become closer.

You don't even know my name, do you? [He doesn't exactly remember hers, either.]

Hmm.... [She thinks about that for a moment.] What is your name?

[Will it make her go away?]

...Asch.

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[Action] (backdated to the 18th)

[Action] TOO MUCH FOR YOU TO HANDLE EH

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[Action] MAYBE A LITTLE, YOU'RE JUST SO INTENSE

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[Action] /SMOULDER

[Action] yes they are. :|b and I should not tag at 7am.

[Action] nonsense, 7am is optimal tagging time

[Action] ooh baby ooh

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[Action] and i will leave my userhead on

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[Action] not when you don't fall asleep til 2. |Db

[Action] /dramatic faint

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[Action] oh well that is a little silly, yes.

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[Action] shut uuup. )8

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[Action] noooo /awesomeface

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