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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[All day today, Luke had been waiting for the link to come to life. He might have been a little desperate, finally on his back to make looking at the clock easier. He's not sure exactly what time all of that... happened, but he's sure it wasn't too late in the day. He'd barely gotten any sleep that night, and now he just glances at the clock every two minutes and wonders why clocks are so stupid.

Then there's the hum. For a moment, Luke isn't sure what it is. He squints and raises his good arm to wave a hand near his ear, only to realize that it isn't going away.

It's after that moment that he starts to recognize it. He sits up in bed, and Xion is beside him and he's making vague and hurried comments about Asch before he tries to move himself. And to his surprise, she's actually helping him get up and find strength in his legs again.

The hum becomes a whisper.

Luke leaves the clinic by himself, needing to do this by himself. He has to stop every now and then to lean against the tree, to catch his breath, to rest his aching legs, to smile and run his hand through his hair. He - He can feel it, he can feel it, it's Asch -

The whisper becomes words.

He travels faster, the words aching but there, and he stops at a tree again to breathe raggedly and let his own words bleed through the newly formed link.

imcomingimcomingimcomingimcomingholdonaschimalmosttheredontworry

It doesn't take too much longer. Luke knows exactly where he is, even with how huge and dense the forest is.

He's almost there.

He sees him.

He stumbles to a halt and falls to his knees at his side.

He lifts his one good hand to trail his fingers across his original's warm, warm forehead and pass through his hair.

I'm here. Wake up.]

[At first, he doesn't stir... not physically, at least. The fonic link only grows stronger as Luke gets closer to him, pulsing with energy, with life as Asch's body grows more and more aware of it, even while still unconscious. He can feel it there, feel Luke, and his mind responds to it, growing more clear, more calm, more coherent. He's coming. He's coming. He's coming, he's coming, he's-

here.

Luke touches him, brushes a hand through his hair. He doesn't move, but he's breathing. It's hot today; Asch's skin is damp with sweat, even if he'd been brought back shirtless, in the usual New Feather pants. Not like his clothes had been salvageable anyway, since Guy's strike had nearly cleaved him in two. There's a thick white line of a scar visible down his back, trailing under the left wing and halting at the middle of his back- on the other side as well, though hidden for the moment beyond the curve between his neck and shoulder.

You came.

You're here.

I knew you'd-

And then he stirs, his body finally catching up with his mind. His eyes clench, willing themselves to open. He looks up-

...to see...

...nothing.

His eyes are empty, the colour faded and dull, darting left and right as he tries to see something, anything. Maybe- maybe it's dark, maybe it's nighttime, a really warm night, even though he can hear the birds chirping in the trees and feel the hot sun burning his bare skin and he can smell the warm grass beneath him and oh god.]

...Luke?

[It's shaky, tremulous, and he swallows hard, shame flickering to life in his expression. He shouldn't- he shouldn't sound like that. He shouldn't let himself feel discomfort, or worry, or... or fear. He's not afraid. He can't be afraid.

But... but he can't.. he can't...]

[I told you

I'd always come for you.

I'm here.

It's soon after that that Asch opens his eyes, and Luke holds his breath at first, a pathetic pain in his chest that he knows will just spread to his throat and eyes if he doesn't try his best to hold it back.

But he doesn't let the breath out, not when he sees that the light in Asch's eyes isn't the same.

They're dull, faded, empty. And Asch's eyes dart left and right, and Luke can immediately tell what's wrong.

He can't see. He's blind.

Luke clenches his jaw as that pain spreads to his throat and creates an uncomfortable lump. He still can't help thinking that this was his fault, that - that if he hadn't called Asch, he'd be the one laying there and darting his eyes to try to see something, not Asch. And it'd be preferable that way. Asch should never have to go through this, not for him. He's just... just a...

He shuts his eyes and swallows thickly, trying to get the pain past his throat. He shouldn't cry. He shouldn't feel sorry for himself or for Asch. His original needs his help right now, and wallowing in regret isn't the way to go about doing that.

So he pushes it aside for right now, and he doesn't even feel a sense of surprise or honor or more happiness than he already feels when Asch says his name. The way he says it makes Luke's hand move from Asch's hair to his cheek, trying to will away the shame and every feeling that brushes against the link, so sensitive and so new now that it's flared to life after being dormant for a week.]

Asch... I'm right here.

[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?

[Maybe it's night. Maybe it's dark. Maybe there's no moon. Maybe- maybe- maybe he's-

-pathetic...]

[Rudy hadn't expected to recieve any notes from anyone today, but apparently he did as he flipped through the journal, when a strange message seemingly addressed to him showed up.

That's definitely strange. Who'd exactly want to contact him right now? Rudy was still unfamiliar with most of the journal system, but he's not sure if he recognizes this journal at all. Or the handwriting, which was mostly illegible to him.]

Hello? Who's this?

[It's like Luke can't stop touching Asch; The last time he touched his original, he was cold, pale, staring up at the sky with lifeless eyes. Now - Now they're still blank, but there's still obvious life to them. So he can't stop touching, can't stop staring, even as the horror over this situation slowly settles to the pit of his stomach.

When Asch pushes himself up to his knees, Luke's hand moves to his back, near the long scar. The brush of the mind is met with his own, as if he's reaching out to hold and entwine, much like he did just before Asch... died. And speaking of that, he takes Asch's hand in his own as soon as he reaches out, even though he had to stop touching his back to do that. This is better anyway; If it's what Asch wants, he'll get it. He'll be whatever he needs to be for him.

Then there's the question. One that makes Luke hesitate for a second, before his head lowers a little. He can guess the reason behind Asch's question, and he can't lie.]

... Late in the morning. It's almost noon.

[Surprisingly, his voice doesn't shake. Luke can't help feeling a little proud of himself for that. Asch doesn't need someone who's hesitant or afraid or scared. He needs strength. And that's what Luke is going to be.]

[Asch starts at the sudden grasp around his hand, and his fingers tense, going still for a moment, then finally curl around Luke's, holding on perhaps a little too tightly to be comfortable. The contact is... reassuring. Not that he'll say as much. There's a certain degree of stress quietly draining out of the link, though, so Luke probably notices anyway. His shoulders droop, he exhales shakily, and after a long pause - after Luke speaks, after he says what Asch knew he was going to say anyway - he lifts his head, his expression torn between determination and resignation.

He honestly doesn't know what he should be feeling right now. But whatever it is, he knows that he should be burying it, keeping it quiet. It's all he knows to do.]

...Fine. I thought so. It's not- [He stops, lowering his head again, slowly loosening his vice grip on Luke's fingers. His arm goes slack, moving almost as if to pull away. Don't be weak, don't be weak, don't be weak.] ...I can't see.

[He doesn't need to say it; he knows, and Luke knows. But he needs to hear it, he needs to say it. First he'll accept it.

Then he'll figure out how to deal with it.]

[Though Asch's arm slacks, Luke doesn't let go. Half because he doesn't want to, half because he wants Asch to have some contact. If the only way Asch can know he's there, if not through the link, then it'll be touch. His own grip does loosen, though. The option is there for Asch to pull away, if he wants to. Luke won't make the same mistake to trap him in place when he needs to leave.

He leans to the side and a little closer to get a better look at Asch's face, to see his expression, his eyes. Even with his head low, Luke can see it, and it almost makes him want to reach out and touch his cheek again. Almost. Instead, he just tightens his grip on his hand.

I'm here.]

Yeah... I know. I know you can't.

[Luke knows and Asch knows. But he'll confirm it, to let that sink in for his original... and maybe himself, too. The both of them know it, acknowledge it. Now, it's time to figure out what to do about it.]

[It's tempting to pull away, to withdraw and find some little corner to hide away in seclusion for the next four months, wait it out. Until he can get this little setback removed, continue on with... whatever life he'd been leading. Pathetic as it was.

Tempting. So very tempting.

He doesn't, though- because Luke lets him. He feels his replica's grip loosen, offering him that freedom, that escape. It's his choice. He's there, and he'll be there if Asch needs him. When Asch needs him.

...I know.

He holds on to Luke, one hand still pressed against the ground, balancing himself. He needs to stand up, to move, but he's reluctant to do so, knowing how big and open the world is when he can't see it. He has no idea where he is, what direction he's even facing, how far from home he is. He-

-he can't-

....

...he can't do this on his own.

He wants to move, but he doesn't want to look so pathetic and dependent, clinging to his replica like a child. Desperately he searches for an escape, some diversion, and- ah- there it is. The memories of what had happened - how he'd died - come back to him then, and he leans back, lifting his free hand to the scar across his chest. He can feel the dip in his skin, where his flesh had been knit back together by whatever restorative magic this world possessed. He hadn't just died. He'd been killed.

His hand lingers there, fingers trembling a little, and he presses them hard against his skin to make them stop.

Guy. A wave of emotions flow through him, trickling into the link, none of them particularly pleasant. There's a certain degree of finality in the realization of what had happened to him, a sense of that faint, desperate hope being snuffed out. Of course it had been Guy who'd done it. Controlled by something, by Sync, by the curse slot, whatever, but- but even so.

Guy.]

...How is he?

[It's all he can think to say. He should be angry, he knows, but even as the words leave his lips he can feel that familiar old resignation sinking in, quietly replacing the voice deep in his mind that's crying, betrayed, betrayed, betrayed.

Because it's a lie. Because he hasn't been betrayed. This isn't his Guy.

It's never been his Guy. Not once, not even back then.

And it stings, but... not like he thought it would.]

[It hurt for Luke to see that, the way Asch presses his hand against the scar that's left over. It's huge, and it's one more to go along with all the other horrid ones he has. Luke shifts a little closer, still keeping his grip a bit loose, but he lets their arms touch now. Barely, lightly. It's more contact for the both of them.

And with that question... Luke knows exactly who he means. And he's not sure what to say. Luke was in such a bad state the last time he saw Guy that the topic of Asch didn't come up, except for once, and it was very brief. Guy had told him to get better, for everyone's sake... for Asch's sake. And that had made pain grip his chest, and he found tears slipping down his cheeks out of frustration and grief and sorrow when Guy left.

He wants to reach his other hand out, his better hand, but... he can't. Not with his arm still in a sling like this, not when he can only just barely feel his fingers. So he just looks down at it, his lips pressed together and working slightly as he mulls over the thought.

Luke certainly knew what Guy looked like. So, he goes from there, shutting his eyes to take the feelings of betrayal hopelessness resignation loneliness sadness and letting his own uncertainty hope anxiousness strength quiet-joy-you're-alive leak through.]

He didn't want to do it. He thought he was over it all... And he's just - he's really confused. He knows we... didn't deserve it. Any of it.

[....Ha.

A ripple of humourless laughter passes through the link before Asch can squelch it, his fingers curling, nails digging into his skin, leaving dark red trails in their wake. Oh, he very much doubts that's how Guy feels- for his part of it, anyway. Truth be told, he'll be surprised if Guy felt anything at all over killing him. It's what he wanted, wasn't it? It what all the glares, the resentment, the mistrust was for. He's still a Fabre, even if no longer in name. He's a Fabre in a way that Luke, apparently, will never be.

It hurts. It hurts. But he pushes it away, stubbornly, fiercely, and beneath that hurt is the quiet belief that it's better this way. It's better that it was me. And he doesn't care if Luke disagrees. Things would be very different if their positions had been reversed, if Luke had died to save Asch. Of that, he is unbelievably certain.]

...It doesn't matter.

[His thoughts finally form into words, with considerable effort, before spilling back into the link again when his throat constricts. It's okay. It's okay. I'm glad it was me.

He's not, but he is. It could have been much, much worse. At least with his death the overall damage was... minimal.]

[NO IT ISN'T STOP DON'T SHUT UP WHY

The thoughts and emotions go through before he can stop himself, and he only manages to stop when he clenches his jaw and tightens his grip on Asch's hand. He hates... He hates that Asch is thinking that way. That he actually thinks it's okay he died. It's never okay. It isn't okay when Luke knows that, out of the two of them, he himself deserves it the most. He isn't supposed to be living anyway. He's already dying. It would've been better if it was him.

Denial frustration stubbornness pain quiet-joy-you're-alive.]

Asch...

... I said something to him. I said that... it didn't look like this made it any better.

[Asch ought to know what "it" refers to.]

I think I was right.

[Asch winces slightly at the sudden rush of thoughts and emotions, his back hunched. It was careless of him to let that through. A part of him wants to close the link then and there, cut himself off from that dependency, that openness. He shouldn't be letting Luke into his thoughts like that. He should know better. He prods at the link, experimentally, ever-cautious. Tries to close it.

And then it feels like every fiber of his being objects to the attempt. Loudly. It thrums painfully in his mind, and the hand at his chest lifts to grip his forehead. He... hadn't expected that.

Hadn't expected Luke's words, either. It's a distraction from his own stupidity and self-inflicted pain, and he feels another laugh, and this time it's audible, still just as humourless. It's brief, half-choked. If it had been anyone but him, Luke could easily have assumed it was a sob.

All that, and... it didn't change anything? I shouldn't even be surprised.]

...You are. I'm sure of that. He still- he's always hated me. Even before- when he was- a part of him still- [He stops, inhales another shaky breath. Something's burning in his chest, pounding in his head, and inwardly he wonders if he's starting to panic or something. He's never felt like this before. He hates it, he hates it.

He hates me. Always, always. It's where it all began: with him, with Father. Luke's just a victim of circumstance, guilty by association.]

It's always been me.

Mr. Asch?

[Ginji doesn't think the journal would lie, as hard as it is to believe that someone might be able to recover from all of those injuries...from dying. Not that he doesn't want to believe it. But there's a difference between hearing things and seeing them for yourself. And besides, unintelligible handwriting isn't the most reassuring sign that someone's alive and kicking. So if he sounds a bit anxious, who can blame him.]

Can you hear me all right?

[Again, it hurts. It hurts to see Asch, who usually has a straight back and a raised chin, who has the strength of a noble, who's always pushing him for being so down on himself... Acting like him, in a way. And Luke is the one who's here trying to push him into believing in himself, though obviously not the same way that his original would do it.

He shifts closer, their arms, the sides of their legs, their hips and shoulders, all touching. He leans over more, temples not quite touching, but close to it. Luke can't get this close to many people at all, and usually he wouldn't do this much with Asch. But... he's alive. He just came back from being dead for a week. The link is flaring again, and he no longer feels a crushing sense of despair and loneliness. They're together again.]

Guy isn't going to just sit there and be okay with the fact that all that hate's there for no reason. What he did... It didn't help him. Hating you isn't doing anything for him.

... But I think you two should talk. Hearing this from me probably isn't doing anything, huh...

[Asch doesn't respond to that; he doesn't know what to say, how to express the fact that the very idea of talking to Guy right now makes his blood run cold. Hell, he doesn't want to express it. It's still weak, pitiful, and an insult against himself to be this... open. Vulnerable.

...Ugh. He doesn't want to think about this anymore - not what happened, not Guy - so he shoves it stubbornly from his mind. Reluctantly he lets himself slump against Luke, feeling drained, the mental and emotional drama taking quite a toll on his energy. He lifts a cautious hand to seek out his replica- it makes contact with his shoulder, then his neck, chest, then- arm. The sling. He pauses there, not lifting his head - looking would be pointless, he still sees nothing but black - but there's a flicker of something in the link. Irritation. Misery. Concern?

"You're still hurt."

He doesn't trust his voice this time. It might betray too much.]

[It takes a bit of trial and error, and a bit of help from Luke - he can't see, after all, so written messages are harder to respond to. He's not in the best of moods, but at least he's replying.]

Why are you contacting me if you don't know who I am?

[...Aha. Ginji. At least it's a familiar voice this time. Asch drums his fingers against the journal a few times, then finally answers.]

I can hear you.

[Short and sweet. ...Well, short, anyway. He just doesn't feel like publicizing his condition right now.]

[Oh, it switched to voice; there we go. Rudy would have done the same if he didn't get anything else. Still, now he's totally lost. Who contacted who first again?]

Ah, um... [Awkward pause!] I was going to ask you the same thing?

[Luke lets his own head rest against Asch's, his eyes half-lidded in thought and concern and an odd sort of affection. The drama is taking a toll on him, too, and Asch coming back has both relieved and added to it. He's alive, he's alive, and god, Luke feels like he isn't surrounded by darkness and cold and loneliness anymore. And Asch is here, and they're both here, as original and replica, as friends.

But now Asch is blind. And now there's this new thing between him and Guy. Rather... it's always been there. It's just that now it's gotten to its worst point. With Guy finally... doing this, and not feeling that hatred leave him. With Asch feeling that that hate is for him and him alone.

Luke doesn't voice any of it anymore. He'd rather just stay here, away from everything, just with his original.

Then Asch touches the sling, and Luke feels those emotions within the link, hears those words.

He can see the sword slicing through Asch's shoulder and warm blood splattering over him and the sounds Asch made and the agonized thoughts -

He shuts his eyes tightly, reeling those images in before they can leak through, even if the emotions are still there. Horror. Misery. Guilt.

"It's not bad."

Not compared to what happened to Asch.]

[Not bad, he says. Asch half-scoffs, and even without feeling those emotions and memories that Luke hadn't wanted to share with him, he can guess at what his replica is thinking. He'd been there, he remembers- and he knows Luke, too. He doesn't like that Luke is hiding things, admittedly, since that's his job, and with his sight gone, he can't just read expressions like he used to. You know, for those rare times that he actually cares how other people are feeling.

Now. Now would be a good time for that particular skill. Not that trying to will it back to him is going to do much good...

Quietly, instead of arguing the point, he closes his eyes - without even realizing it, simply a reflex - and stretches out his mind, extending the link, strengthening it. He's better at hiding his emotions and thoughts than Luke is, he's done this much longer, he knows what he's-

-doing-

-light, there's light and he can see it-

With a sudden, sharp intake of breath Asch pulls back, his eyes snapping open. He can see- he can see-

...himself...]

...That doesn't make any sense. You contacted me.

[What the hell is this guy on?]

[Luke shuts his own eyes when he feels Asch pressing, strengthening the link. He isn't sure if he's welcoming of it or not. It adds to the feeling of having someone there, yes, but it's also a breach of security. He's pretty used to Asch doing this sort of thing already, but it's always strange.

Then Asch is backing away, and Luke shoots his eyes open to stare at his original. Their hands are stretched between them, Luke still holding on to it, and then he slowly lets his hand lower as he frowns and tilts his head to the side lightly, trying to figure out the expression on Asch's face.]

... Asch?

[Asch hesitates, silent for a long moment, his breath quick and unsteady. He can see his own face more clearly now, looking shaken, disheveled, surprised; he can see the empty colour of his eyes, the pale white lines of his scars. He can see the trees, the sun, the clouds, a hand holding his- but it's not his, it's not his but he can see it as if it were, looking through-

-his replica's eyes.

The pause extends for a moment or so longer, and then he chokes back one more humourless laugh, lowering his head. Of course. Idiot. He's an idiot.

He even looks like an idiot, hunched over and shaking like that - he can see it, because Luke can see it, and by god is this ever disorienting, and as he lifts himself up he nearly falls over from the mixed perspective of feeling himself move, seeing the body in front of him move, but the view in his own gaze not changing at all-

He knows he should disconnect from the link, remove the temptation, but... it feels good to see something. The dark is just too damn lonely.]

[Luke frowns, and he leans to shift closer to Asch, using his only good arm. For a second his eyes dart downward, and Asch will see Luke's own attire. A hospital gown with a pair of baggy pants, and his arm completely covered in a splint.

Then he looks up, and he's closer to Asch again. The way he kept reacting is... concerning, to Luke, and it quietly shows through the link. Is he in shock? Is he light-headed? He can't tell, and if Asch doesn't answer him verbally...

"Are you okay?"]

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

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