dissonates: <lj site="livejournal.com" user="kannin"> (downcast)
Asch the Bloody ([personal profile] dissonates) wrote2012-05-22 01:04 am

[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.))
relinquishing: (I'll just pretend not to hate that)

[Action] Nik's mental process: /constant stream of expletives

[personal profile] relinquishing 2012-05-27 04:39 am (UTC)(link)
[The eyes are, in fact, the first thing he notices when Asch finally turns his head. Dark and hollow, cast in his direction and yet not looking at anything at all. Guy can't help but stare for a long moment, his brows furrowing.

At first, he wonders if that's something he caused. If the result of the fight somehow damaged Asch in this way... but no, no, the injury that he'd caused wouldn't have tampered with a person's eyesight, especially not so drastically. Which meant that the more likely culprit were the damn scientists that decided to revive the redhead. However the hell that worked.

Great.

The knowledge that it probably isn't entirely his fault makes a wave of relief pass over him... as incredibly short-lived as it is. He clings to it for as long as he can, even as he feels it slipping through his grasp. Nngh. That knawing feeling sitting heavily in his stomach isn't quite going away, and it bothers him. The exhausted and frighteningly calm expression on Asch's face, coupled with those hollow seagreen eyes, is, in fact, making it just a little worse. He really does want to leave. Get up now, without a word.

He doesn't want to admit that the pit eating away at him is guilt.

Not for Asch.

So he just won't for right now. Denial. Swallowing it back. He's here to just... touch base. Somehow.

That's all.

Hngh.

The blonde lets out a long breathe when Asch finally speaks - in the nose, out the mouth, as a hand tensely runs through his hair.

Didn't think he would come, huh?

Hah.

I didn't think I would, either.


But he swallows that bitter temptation of a response, letting his voice smooth over in a low, neutral tone that was more than comfortable. A nice, solid mask to hide the discomfort he was under, at least.]


Surprises happen.

[A short pause. He outstretches his hand, letting the cat rub against it with his muzzle as he looks up again at those clouded eyes...]

I take it you can't see me right now, then?

[No need to pull the punch with that - the question is very blunt, very direct. He might as well hear the answer from Asch's own mouth, rather than walk on even more eggshells that really didn't need to be there.]
relinquishing: (☼ From my heart down to my legs)

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

[personal profile] relinquishing 2012-05-30 08:58 am (UTC)(link)
[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.]
relinquishing: (☽Wraps itself around my tongue)

[Action] Oh this fandom. Oh my heart.

[personal profile] relinquishing 2012-06-04 05:36 am (UTC)(link)
[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?]
relinquishing: (Casablanca)

[Action] seven hundred and sixty five

[personal profile] relinquishing 2012-06-08 01:27 am (UTC)(link)
[The temptation to take the whole apathetic ramble at face value alone was tempting. So tempting - so infuriating, to sit and listen to Asch talk as if Luke - his replica - were nothing more than a toy to be tortured and played with... that he could make a plan like that so suddenly, within moments, letting a need for suffering sickeningly outweigh the agony of his own death.

A death meant for the man Guy had assumed he despised.

But there was a sense of insincerity about the way he spoke. An unnatural contrast between the tone of his voice and tension of his body, showing a conflict that wasn't wanting to come out to the surface.

The way his voice holds that familiar arrogance, and yet... breaks as he strays with his words a bit farther than he had intended.

This wasn't the Asch he quite remembered in the end. Sickeningly cruel or remarkably vulnerable - both were shocking enough. But it was still Asch.

This was the Asch that Luke actively pursued on a daily basis for more personal reasons than he could ever properly explain to Guy. It was the Asch that continued to cast the most mixed of emotional glances at him, while they seemed to be something completely foreign to the "replica" he claimed to had wanted to hurt.

Something didn't match up.

And this was hardly the behavior that portrayed honest intentions.

Guy bristles slightly, arms wrapped against the back of the chair and glancing at the floor for a long moment.]


Nice story. Wonderfully cruel twist for you. I'll give you a point for creativity.

Too bad there's not an ounce of logic in that kind of choice.

[He leans up slightly, looking back up at the redhead with narrowed eyes.]

I really doubt you think that, either.

[If you're going that far to keep from telling me the truth, then--

...

--maybe it was just to get him to react poorly. To intentionally anger him.

Maybe it was just to get him out of the room a little bit faster. But he could have easily done that with cold turns of the shoulder. Of straight up ignorance.

So...

...

He props one arm up against the back of the chair, letting his head rest against his knuckles.]


...

Are you really that set on having me hate you?
relinquishing: (☼ I can never leave)

[Action] WOW I'm failing left and right let's try this again

[personal profile] relinquishing 2012-06-08 04:16 am (UTC)(link)
No.

[The answer comes immediately. Sharply.

What exactly it's an answer to isn't clear... because, in a way, that was his answer for everything.

Well. Almost everything.

He would take hate over confusion any day. He really would. He wanted to say it would be easier.

But he couldn't. He couldn't. Damn it, he tried. If he let it churn too long, the discomfort became a gnawing desperation - a realization that, despite wanting something to change, wanting anything to change with the slash of a blade... nothing would change at this point.

Whether he killed Asch once or a dozen times or a hundred times... nothing would help.

Nothing would be enough.

No satisfaction.

Nothing that he could do with his hands. No words that he could say. No glares he could cast.

It would simply be hate for hate's sake. An aching urge for that momentary loss of self-control, just for something that extended beyond the memory of his family and home.

It was a fuel that.... well, he felt lost without, yes.

It was why he wanted to hate this man.

But it seemed that something else had slipped alongside those tendrils of anger. Something that he had never felt for Asch in particular. Something he honestly had never expected to feel for Asch.

But as Asch's words had slipped out, he'd felt it ball up in a familiar fashion. He nearly laughed at the feel of it.

Almost.

His voice stays quiet as he rises from the chair, his tone low. Not out of anger... but of something else.]


I don't know what the hell has happened to you since you've been here or what you remember me as. I'm not going to pretend to know. [I'm not going to pretend I care.]

But what does it matter to you?

You're alive. And yet you're sitting here asking me if your permanent death was something better? Like you think my answer will give you some sort of justification?

[Like you think you know what he's thinking? What he's going through?

He scoffs - a harsh, cold sound that barely resonated at all as he slides the chair back against the wall, staying silent until he reaches the doorway. Lips press together as he speaks over his shoulder, his voice tight.]


Dig into that little, self-absorbed head of yours and find some goddamn worth in yourself.

You at least had a little of that when I last saw you.

[Pity.

Disgust.

He didn't care for the reasons anymore. Self-sacrifice out of an apathy for the value of his life in the eyes of another?

Tch.

How absolutely pathetic.

Even the vulnerability and openness of this moment - the chance to learn and ask questions - is hardly enough to keep him around.

And so... he's gone. Not about to wait for an answer he knows will probably be bundled in emotions he just doesn't have the patience to understand.

This was a different Asch. He realized that, now more than ever. And more importantly? This was an Asch that he now despised for a completely different reason than personal revenge.

But he doubted that he'd ever be able to get that through. And frankly, he was too confused and too exhausted to care.]