dissonates | [Written...? / Action, May 20th and beyond]

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[Written...? / Action, May 20th and beyond]

[It starts with a hum.

It's quiet, barely perceptible, like a fruit fry buzzing away in someone's ear. Across the village, it starts flickering to life in the mind of one Luke fon Fabre, miles away, awake and unaware and waiting for it.

The hum becomes a whisper. Wordless noise. An echo of something that used to be alive and loud and binding. Intrusive, almost, and yet not- because something missed, needed, eagerly and anxiously awaited is rarely unwanted.

The whisper becomes words, messy and jumbled and confused, a thought process born of desperation, fear, pain, loneliness. The words of the dead, or the dying, or the living. Of all three at once.

I'm here.

imhereimhereimherereplicaimherewhereareyou

help me

Alive. Alive.

And calling for him.]

[It's much later - after he's found, after he's awake and aware of his new situation - that Asch finally touches the journal. He toys with the controls, flips through the pages quietly, listening to everything that's open to hear. It feels... startlingly normal. Just your average day in Luceti. Life does go on without you- but then, he knew that long ago. This is nothing new.

...Well, almost nothing. It's hard to do much of anything when you can't see the world you're used to seeing around you. Not for the first little while, anyway. By touch and trial-and-error he finds the camera eventually, and he scribbles out a bit of nonsense in what he thinks is the entry area that almost looks like words, he sends out a few misfired comments to complete strangers, and in the end he thinks the entire journal system isn't nearly user-friendly enough. Eventually he gives up and sets it aside, leaving it open. Just. Listens.

It's not much. But for the moment, it'll do.]

((ooc: okay so here's the deal- Asch is back from the dead and blind. He'll be in the clinic for a while while he gets used to it, so feel free to use this post as a catch-all in case people want to visit/stumble upon him for the entire week. His scribble entry is also sort-of posted with a slightly-obscured picture, so if you'd rather use the voice function to bug him, feel free |D Word will probably get around that he's back one way or another.

Luke may or may not be with him depending on the time of visit; more often than not, he will be ~~attached at the hip~~ keeping an eye on Asch and helping him to see. He might also be asleep or taking a break. Feel free to specify; if he is there, he probably won't speak much (to save Kukki's inbox and to simplify things), so it's just a matter of whether or not your character will be seen.))

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[Four months? That's longer than she's even been here. Twice as long. And he'd be blind that entire time?]

...I see. And what will you do?

[ So rude. Fine, no sandwiches for you, then. She considers for a second. ]

I think I'd better just bring it. You'll understand when I get there!

[ Translation: "It's a surprise! :D" ]

[Close enough.]

Sure sounds like it. What are you in the mood for, Mr. Asch? I was thinking about picking lunch up on the way, since I doubt you'd want to eat my cooking.

To be honest, I'm getting tired of it myself.

[There are only so many things you can do to a sandwich and anything else is too much trouble to bother with outside of special occasions. Thus the Luceti version of take-out. Now where's that key?]

[There's a touch of irritation in his voice as he answers this time.]

Whatever I can. Believe it or not, I don't have any experience when it comes to being blinded. I don't have all the answers.

Edited (I couldn't resist okay) 2012-05-29 20:20 (UTC)

Then...you can figure out as you go along.

[What else could he do?]

Sometimes that's the best way to do things, anyway.

[Guy chuckles lightly; half at that wonderfully bitter tone in Asch's voice (a tone that, while expected, was still amused on a level Guy couldn't really grasp), and half at the response from the cat, letting his fingers play across Tsuae's ear.]

More like an educated guess, actually.

[He stays silent once more, withdrawing his hand from the range of the cat even as it let out a soft sound in response.

Slipping back into that confusion. That frustrating little limbo of not knowing what to say or what to do. He wasn't here for an explanation. He wasn't here to hear anything from the redhead - god, he was honestly surprised that he'd been acknowledged at all.

So why the hell was he here, then...

...

Mmm.

He'd say it was for Luke, but... that wasn't even right.

...

It was just...

Questions.

Questions he never bothered to answer. Questions about so many things that he really hadn't given a damn about before that suddenly were working their way up.

His rage had finally had its way, whether he liked it or not... and he was left at the end, not satisfied as he had thought... but horrified.

Left with a emptiness that begged to be filled with something.

Anything.

Questions or answers or reactions. Anything that wasn't his own unfathomable feelings. Anything that wasn't that gnawing rage that he knew was sitting there, silently controlling him and mocking him, fueled by something he refused to regret but morphing into something he was suddenly frightened to address.

A somber kind of curiosity now ate at him. No, not quite curiosity... a hunger. Something that ate away at him like an insatiable thirst, aching and begging for some new way to push down these ridiculous feelings towards this ridiculous man in front him. Towards Luke. Towards himself.

Towards everything he thought he had some sort of control over that now felt like it was teetering on the verge of complete and utter loss.

Just...

Just spit it out.

Just spit SOMETHING out, get that obnoxious feeling out of your chest, get control back, get something back...

...

He straightens himself, lifting his head and looking as Asch as directly as possible.]

So.

Do you hate me for everything that happened?

[No bitterness. No anger.

Just another seemingly straightforward question. As lightly spoken as if they were discussing the weather.

But he stays silent, waiting for an answer or a reaction in lieu of one.

Time to quench that curiosity.]

[Asch's response is probably, for Guy, the one least expected: he laughs.

Well, almost. It's a short, stifled sound, more of a scoff buried behind a twisted ironic smirk, because Guy has no idea, no idea. And it should be funny, but none of this is funny, it shouldn't be funny, and he just doesn't laugh, ever. It feels wrong to do, so even now, with the sound hanging in the air between them, he clamps his mouth shut, lips pursing tightly, and lowers his head. He can't see Guy's expression with his eyes, but he can take a guess at it. It wasn't what anyone could consider a pleasant sound, but then, whatever comes out of his mouth so rarely is.

"Do you hate me-"

No idea. No. Idea.

He lets Guy wait for a while, mulling over his answer. Not because it's difficult - it isn't, it honestly isn't, even after all the hate, the anger, the suspicion, the murder, he could never hate Guy - but because he is honestly puzzled as to why Guy is even asking. Guy shouldn't ask him that. Guy shouldn't care. Guy should be with Luke, because he's always with Luke, and they've obviously made up with one another or he wouldn't even be here, he'd be there, and why the hell couldn't Guy just leave him alone?

He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to be questioned, or accused, or- or hated. He never wanted to be hated. Not by Guy.

Always has been, though. Somehow. Always, always, always.

His chest is burning again, like that day in the apartment, when Guy had twisted his arm behind his back, pulled him away from Luke, held him to hurt him. A tremor passes through his body, and he grips the material of his bedsheets tightly until it stops.

He's been very nearly cleaved in two by the man sitting beside him now. He's been stabbed three times in Auldrant, each a mortal blow. He's felt his body fade into nothing, fonons weakening, slowly tearing his body apart until his life escaped it. Three times now he's died.

Even with all that, he's never felt as vulnerable as he feels right now. Or as alone. Fleetingly, he wishes that Luke could be here, surprising himself by his own thought, but at the same time he knows why Luke can't be.

He needs honesty. From himself, from Guy. They won't get that with Luke here. His replica... taints things between them. It's what it always comes back to, really- Luke. It's where things changed. It's when Guy became someone's best friend, and when Asch realized he'd never had that, only wanted it.

Always, always, always.

But.]

...I don't hate you.

[It's quiet, spoken in a voice that is surprisingly raw, for someone who normally guards his emotion so carefully. There's sincerity in his voice, caution, reluctance. Maybe even a little pain, because there's a wall between them that for a long time didn't exist, and that wall feels so immobile, more so now than ever. He doesn't say everything he could say- that he hadn't hated Guy from the very beginning, that he wishes it had helped, that he'd wanted things to be different between them. He won't give the other man a greater opening to mock. He won't.

He can't say that his answer to Guy's always is never, never, never.

What he does say, instead, is this:]

Would it change anything, if I did?

[....he hates surprises...]

Tch... do whatever you want.

[BUT IT BETTER BE GOOD. He'll just wait in his room with a quiet huff.]

You need to learn how to cook, then.

[Seriously what good is a servant/pilot/lapdog if he can't make a decent chicken parmesan. Speaking of which-]

Bring something with chicken in it. No seafood. Otherwise I don't care.

...Hm.

[What's he supposed to say to that, "thanks for the advice"? He's already figured that much out. She's obviously still uncomfortable, though, and he hasn't decided whether twitchy company is better or worse than being left alone for hours on end, so he tries to shift the topic. The pie's making him realize that he's hungry.]

You said you brought pie.

Oh--yes, I did. Would you like some? It's blueberry.

[Yes, pie. That's a much easier thing to talk about. And as she places it on the nearest table to start cutting it, she'll try to think about more things to talk about that aren't...blindness and death.]

[Asch listens to the scrape of her cutting it, not bothering to answer since she's apparently already decided to share. Well, she'd promised, anyway. Better late than never.

He does quietly prod Tsuae off his lap, causing the cat to meow pitifully and jump down off the bed, wandering over to Rapunzel and rub against her legs.]

You're right, I guess I do. Throwing ingredients together on a piece of bread doesn't really count, does it? Well, there's something to think about...

[~~O-ouch... Not like you mentioned chicken parmesan when I volunteered for this job, Mr. Asch. Geesh!~~ You can bet he'll be trying his hand at real cooking before too long.]

[Key obtained.] Okay! I should be there in about ten to fifteen minutes.

[ She can't help it. She laughs, very gently. ]

I'll be there soon.

[ It took some searching, But she slips her "gift" into a bag and sets out from house 14.

She stops at Seventh Heaven to get some food anyway, and in about 20 minutes time she's walking into the Battledome clinic. She goes to see Asch, first, since she doesn't want to keep him waiting. Out of politeness, and to alert him she's there, she knocks on the door, first. ]

Asch?

[She pauses cutting the pie to bend down and scratch the cat behind the ears. At least he has someone to keep him company when everyone else is away...]

I didn't realize you were a cat person. [There's the sound of a faint smile in her voice as she goes back to the pie, lifting out a piece with the knife and placing it on one of the plates she brought with her.]

...Hm. [Asch ponders saying something more, but quickly realizes that he has very little else to respond with, so he merely nods and flips the journal shut to wait quietly for Ginji's arrival. By the time his pilot shows up, he'll have officially gotten so bored that he's trying to teach Tsuae how to fetch and has discovered that the equation of blind man + flying bouncy ball + idiot feline does not equate to a good time.

To his credit, though, nothing is irreparably broken. ...Yet.]

[When Xion knocks, Asch looks up from his spot on the bed, but he doesn't move otherwise; when she comes in, she'll see why. His left hand is trapped beneath his replica's head, since Luke has decided to pass out beside the bed again. The visits, wandering around the hospital, and staying awake to help Asch see is probably taking its toll on him.

Asch purses his lips at her voice, turning back to the direction Luke is in, and answers her under his breath. His sudden gentleness might surprise her, but... well, he has a lot to be grateful to his replica for, all of a sudden. Between Luke's guilt and all the mixed emotions working their way into the fonic link from both ends, it's been an exhausting week. The only reason Asch himself isn't asleep is that he's slept plenty when no one else is around, since he has little else to do.]

Keep your voice down or you'll wake him.

I've never thought of myself as one. My- [He pauses, a heartbeat away from saying 'replica', but trails off and starts again.] ...Luke brought him home one day and said he was mine. I wasn't given much choice in the matter.

[His tone of voice doesn't seem too bothered by it, though, and there's obviously no lost love between the two.]

[ She stops when she comes in the door, blinking at the scene. She has to lift one of her hands to press curled fingers over her mouth to hide the tender smile that suddenly blooms on her face, because seeing Luke like that is just sort of impossibly adorable.

Of course, Asch's reaction has an impression on her, too, and her smile softens into something just sort of gentle when she lowers her hand. It's amazing to watch the two of them like this... sort of really surreal. She remembers the family experiment, when they were brothers. How close they were. How bitter Luke was when it ended and Asch started scorning him again - how much it hurt him. And now they're like this...

Her voice is a stage whisper when she responds. ]

Sorry. I should have guessed he'd be in here.

[ She approaches the bed, first setting down the bag of food, then reaching into the other bag she's got on her arm. ]

I found something in the item store. I was thinking, maybe...

[ "Found something" implies it didn't take hours. Quite a bit of her time since she found the boys, actually, has been dedicated to doing just this. ]

It might help. I don't know if it's common across the worlds... have you heard of braille?

[ She had to look it up. An hour or two in the library, then a day and a half in the item store... but she'd found something. In her hands, bound up in string, is a set of braille flash cards. ]

[Asch glances down in Luke's direction, briefly considering waking him so he can see what Xion's talking about, but thinks better of it, turning his attention back to her. Let him sleep while he can.

The name isn't ringing any bells, unfortunately.]

I don't think we have that on Auldrant. Or if we do, it's not by that name.

[ She smiles a little, though she realizes he can't see, and approaches. ]

I didn't know what it was either until I looked it up in the library. It's ... it's a system of reading for the blind.

[ Carefully said. ]

Can you hold out a hand?

[Ginji makes an effort to be prompt. In about fifteen minutes there'll be a knock at Asch's door and Ginji will poke his head inside while trying to balance a couple of paper bags.] Mr. Asch? It's me.

[Soon enough, his attention's inevitably drawn to the game of "fetch". It's probably best not to ask about the cat or the ball rebounding off random surfaces, but you can't blame a guy for wondering.] Though, if I knew you already had company, I would've brought extra food.

[Luke...she'd been to see the other boy the week before, and she'd been there--at his side, healing him, while he protested and insisted that she try to heal Asch, too. Keep healing and healing and healing even though she knew it was futile.

The memories chills her, so she forces it away, placing a plate of pie in his hands.]

Luke cares about you very much. [It's a statement of fact.]

[The vulnerability in Asch's voice catches the blonde off guard more than the laugh. The ache... the dig of his fingers into the sheets...

Something was eating away at the man on the bed. Something more than a simple discomfort with the situation.

Why?

...

Pick up on that, dig a little.

Let the curiosity fuel you.

Something that isn't anger.

Something that you

can

control.

...

Lips press together in a thin, somber smile, never taking his eyes off of Asch's face. Actively watching his reactions, now.

Observing in a way he knew would make the other highly uncomfortable otherwise. Sitting this close to a man he had felt such hate for. Always. And yet seeing him breaking down a corner of a wall that Guy had never really seen before.

Why?

...

It was a little cruel. To be taking advantage like this. But... he had a freedom here. And with as confused as he was feeling, it seemed a rather peculiar means of personal comfort.

The raw quality of Asch's answer is enough to force Guy's voice into a softer range. Still light, but with a tinge of something a little more... pitying?

No, not pity. It was a bit too heavy to be pity.

...

g..uilt...]

Heh.

Depends on what you really think it would be changing, I guess.

[God knows he hardly has a clue himself.

Did his feelings really take a turn one way or the other, knowing that Asch didn't hate him? Wouldn't it just be easier for Asch to hold it against him? For them to have equal reasons to despise one another?

Equal... hah.

Could it be considered equal, in the end?

Hatred for one's family and home destroyed by the commands of one's father. Hatred for one's own life destroyed by the hand of the other.

...

Was it really the same?

Was it horrible of him to think that it was stupid and naive of Asch to say he didn't hate? He had to be mistaken or just not thinking clearly, when the man who murdered him could easily try again at a moment's notice. Wasn't he aware that the blonde could very well take up this moment of quiet and vulnerability and try again?

...

...

Mm.

But back then.

He hadn't pursued Asch, had he?

Not until...

...not until Asch had jumped into the way.

It was his choice.

His choice to take that blow.

His choice to mindlessly die for the replica he so often seemed to treat like scum.

To take the hatred.

...

Why.

Why.

To try and throw off the banner of resentment towards the redhead - to try and, for once, take a glimpse at understanding him... he finds that he can't. He cannot wrap his mind around what exactly has changed with this sullen, closed, bitter, stubborn man in front of him.

And for once, it frustrates him.

guilt

Frustrates him in a way he doesn't want to place. In a way that can't be thrown into the mere hatred that seemed so comfortable before.

guilt

I don't know.

I don't know I don't know I don't know.

I don't know why I can't just hate you and let it be enough.

...

When Guy speaks again, his voice is just a little darker. Still carrying that uncomfortable heaviness that he can't quite shake.]

...Why did you do it, Asch?

You're not quite the type for heroics involving your replica, last I remember.

[But you're nothing like I remember in the end. Are you?]

[The corner of Asch's lips quirk, just a little, barely enough to be noticeable. Why, indeed. It's such a loaded question, a mountain of emotions and memories and hatred and pain and one-sided, quiet adoration, too much for a single word. He can't see Guy's face, can barely even guess- damn that man for always being so good at hiding how he feels. But he can hear that heavy tone, feel the weight of it hanging in the air. In that sense, too, being blind is easier.

It bothers him, knowing what Asch did, not knowing why. Not understanding. That surprises Asch a little. He'd wondered if that would matter.

Guy had always been the one who'd thought that he had understood Asch. It's somewhat satisfying now to have caught him unawares.

On the other hand, he can't give an honest answer- not truly honest, not really. Not when it carries so much with it, just as much as the question, just as much as that knife, still twisting, always twisting.

Because if I had let you kill him, it would have changed everything for you, but nothing at all for me. Because I'd still be on the outside looking in on everything I want and everything I can't have.

Because it could have destroyed you, knowing that you killed him. Because I couldn't stand to watch that happen. Because I've never wanted you to suffer. Because letting you kill me was the best way to cause the least amount of suffering for all of us. Because he doesn't deserve it. Because I don't hate him anymore.

Because he's mine.

Because I couldn't watch him die.

Because he's already dying.

Because I'm already dead.

But the words are too precious, too close for him to just share them with Guy. With this Guy, the one who doesn't know him, who'd never wanted to. He won't say the words aloud because they might be met with mockery, or disdain, or simple ignorance.

Because they won't matter, in the end. They won't change anything.

Why?

Why not?

He smiles more obviously now, the expression a little dark, and lifts his shoulders in a small shrug. His voice is suddenly more casual, dismissive, almost careless. Almost. He's willing it to be, forcing it, clutching the sheets so hard his knuckles are going red. Just say it. Say it, get it out there, let him hear it. Let him here what he wants to hear - the cold, arrogant, selfish reason, the one that will let him keep believing what Guy has surely always believed.

That he's just like his father.]

The fonic link is stronger here- closer than it ever was in Auldrant. Breaking it now is painful; you must have seen the state Luke was in last week. You can't possibly-

[He halts there- it's getting too personal, too close, too painful, and he can't let it show in his voice. Not in the middle of that. He swallows and tries again.]

On the other hand, death here is temporary, and the penalty for it isn't permanent either. It was just a matter of weighing out the pros and cons. Let the replica suffer my death, while I return in a week's time with some minor setback. It was the logical choice.

[It's a fairly obvious lie with only a smattering of truth, even if he's trying his best to make it seem convincing; obvious, at least, if Guy wants to think about it, wants to take it at anything but face value. It's an offering more than anything: an escape, a chance to shrug this whole incident off as one more lash at his replica, one more slight, one more way to hurt the one he's supposed to hate. Guy can believe him. He can get angry for intentionally hurting Luke and go back to hating Asch and everything will be the same as it was before.

It's why he did it. Not to save anyone. Asch the Bloody doesn't help people. Asch the Bloody doesn't do anything for anyone but himself. Asch the Bloody is the son of Duke Fabre and he deserved to die. It's better this way.

He took the hit for Luke because, if this confrontation happened, if Guy came to see him and to ask him why, there was always a chance that it could result in nothing changing at all. And if nothing changes, then it's fine, it's fine, because he'd never hoped for anymore more than that anyway.

No.

Because...

Because I wanted to see if you'd care.]

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Page 5 of 13

[Written...? / Action, May 20th and beyond]

action;

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[Action] And with this tag I start realizing how possibly screwed up Guy is now. Oh. my. god.

[Action] well hey they're all hopelessly screwed up anyway so...

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[action] I think this is okay, I checked with kukki |D

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[action] oh that's fine i didn't need that heart anyway

[action] no one ever seems to need these hearts we keep breaking

[action] i've gone through about 20 hearts i apparently don't need, myself

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[Action] Oh this fandom. Oh my heart.

[Action] how many hearts have we ruined for each other now