relinquishing: (I know it's my de-sti-nyyyyy)
Guy Cecil ☼ [Gᴀɪʟᴀʀᴅɪᴀ•Gᴀʟᴀɴ•Gᴀʀᴅɪᴏs] ([personal profile] relinquishing) wrote in [personal profile] dissonates 2013-12-06 10:05 pm (UTC)

UH..... hi have action brackets forever i guess (1/2)

...

[Congratulations, Asch, Guy is now at a loss for words.

It's a bit dramatic, the way Asch's assumptions spill out of his mouth only to end on such a surprising note. Was that really all this lead to? Asch's flip-flopping behavior, his actions when Guy had confronted him in the clinic, his statement that he didn't hate Guy, but it would be easier if that favor wasn't returned...

Really, was that all because this man just wanted to be acknowledged? Revenge, anger, bitterness, and even a murder aside, and he could still be standing here and spitting that out with as much fervor as he'd shouted every angry thought for Luke.

It's as if, for a second, that child forever berated by his father, hanging onto Guy like a lifesaver until the day he vanished, separated and toyed with and broken before finally returning to people who would never see him the same way again... that boy was speaking up. Separation from the goals of Auldrant, from things that he'd been tied down to since birth, from a life that didn't seem to matter... maybe that was all it took.

He could just be Asch here. Just a person.

There's a deep suspicion that there's far more to it. It can't be so simple. Asch himself didn't seem convinced of it, anyway, from the tone in his words. But Guy knows he's toeing a line that few could even come close to. Natalia. Van, in the past... and maybe even Luke.

And if Asch's frustration is simply with not being accepted... well, maybe their relationship hadn't changed that much at all. Stranger and with a lot less trust, sure. But the redhead grew enough of his own backbone to speak up for himself - the very thing that Guy had berated him for the last time they'd spoken face to face.

Heh. Despite what he told Natalia... he never thought he'd see the day where Asch might actually grow. Call it habitual pessimism. He was, after all, still a Fabre. But that didn't hold the sting it used to. Who'd have thought?

...]

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