[Right here. Asch knew it before Luke even spoke the words aloud, and between that and the light touch of skin on his cheek - contact, feeling, something he couldn't experience last week, he'd died again - it's enough to shake him out of his temporary shock. Okay, so... he's blind. Blind. So what? It's not permanent. It's... the penalty.
He can deal with this. Somehow, he'll...
Cursing under his breath, Asch's fists curl in the dirt, and he starts to push himself upright, moving to his knees. He feels unstable, shaken, and his arms are trembling from more than just a simple, physical weakness. He won't admit it, but he can't stop himself from feeling a level of helplessness that he's never experienced before. The world around him is dark, a void of sound and touch and smell and nothing, all at once. With just one exception- Luke's presence, a beacon in the dark that he can feel with more than just his hand. His mind reaches out to brush against Luke's again, seeking that familiarity, some form of quiet reassurance. Unconsciously, his hand reaches out as well. He needs- he needs something. An anchor.]
What- [His voice falters again, and he inhales sharply, hissing between his teeth, steeling himself. Not weak. Not weak. Don't be so pathetic, Asch.] ...What time is it?
[action]
He can deal with this. Somehow, he'll...
Cursing under his breath, Asch's fists curl in the dirt, and he starts to push himself upright, moving to his knees. He feels unstable, shaken, and his arms are trembling from more than just a simple, physical weakness. He won't admit it, but he can't stop himself from feeling a level of helplessness that he's never experienced before. The world around him is dark, a void of sound and touch and smell and nothing, all at once. With just one exception- Luke's presence, a beacon in the dark that he can feel with more than just his hand. His mind reaches out to brush against Luke's again, seeking that familiarity, some form of quiet reassurance. Unconsciously, his hand reaches out as well. He needs- he needs something. An anchor.]
What- [His voice falters again, and he inhales sharply, hissing between his teeth, steeling himself. Not weak. Not weak. Don't be so pathetic, Asch.] ...What time is it?
[Maybe it's night. Maybe it's dark. Maybe there's no moon. Maybe- maybe- maybe he's-
-pathetic...]