Asch the Bloody (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dissonates) wrote2012-07-08 10:21 pm
dissonates) wrote2012-07-08 10:21 pm
Entry tags:
[Voice]
[Silence.
There's too much of it. It burns into his mind, the echo of emptiness in the corner of it, that ache he can't seem to brush aside no matter how he tries to distract himself. He's tried going outside, he's tried burying himself in that braille stuff Xion gave him, he's tried striking up conversations with his housemates (even the animals), but he runs out of things to say far too quickly and in the back of his mind it's always there. The silence, the echo. The fact that something is missing.
Dead.
And then he's had enough.
The journal's camera is partially obscured when the feed flickers on, and what it does show is his face - eyes, a flash of red hair, his bangs down - just enough to make it seem like he's not quite himself. His voice, too, is softened; it's not as open and friendly as Luke would have been when greeting the village, but it lacks the usual anger or pent-up frustrations of the socially-awkward soldier. If anything it sounds... hushed, weary, tinged with a bit of desperation. He needs this. Whether or not he wants to do it is irrelevant.
It hurts. The silence hurts, more than last time when Luke had been sent home, and he honestly hadn't thought it would.]
Tell me about your day. Tell me a story. Talk about anything. Today I'm listening.
[He might not care. He might not be nice about it. He might not even remember it later. But he'll listen.
He just needs to hear something, so he can forget about the nothing in his head for a while.]
((Asch is blind, so all tags must be voice/action or he cannot respond to them!))
There's too much of it. It burns into his mind, the echo of emptiness in the corner of it, that ache he can't seem to brush aside no matter how he tries to distract himself. He's tried going outside, he's tried burying himself in that braille stuff Xion gave him, he's tried striking up conversations with his housemates (even the animals), but he runs out of things to say far too quickly and in the back of his mind it's always there. The silence, the echo. The fact that something is missing.
Dead.
And then he's had enough.
The journal's camera is partially obscured when the feed flickers on, and what it does show is his face - eyes, a flash of red hair, his bangs down - just enough to make it seem like he's not quite himself. His voice, too, is softened; it's not as open and friendly as Luke would have been when greeting the village, but it lacks the usual anger or pent-up frustrations of the socially-awkward soldier. If anything it sounds... hushed, weary, tinged with a bit of desperation. He needs this. Whether or not he wants to do it is irrelevant.
It hurts. The silence hurts, more than last time when Luke had been sent home, and he honestly hadn't thought it would.]
Tell me about your day. Tell me a story. Talk about anything. Today I'm listening.
[He might not care. He might not be nice about it. He might not even remember it later. But he'll listen.
He just needs to hear something, so he can forget about the nothing in his head for a while.]
((Asch is blind, so all tags must be voice/action or he cannot respond to them!))
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That doesn't even make-
That's the stupidest-
....
Facepalm.]
And?
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Oh, RIGHT. Derailed. Back to the story.]
Oh! Um--so the North Wind took her to the castle East of the Sun and West of the Moon. Once there, she takes out the golden apple, which the wicked stepdaughter--the one the prince is supposed to marry--sees and wants to buy. The girl agrees to sell her the apple, but only if the wicked stepdaughter lets her spend a night with the prince. [This all sounds much racier than intended.] The wicked stepdaughter agrees, but gives the prince a sleeping potion, so the peasant's daughter will not be able to wake him. The next day, the same thing happens with the golden carding comb, and she is once again unable to wake the prince.
But by the next night, the prince had caught on. So when the daughter traded her golden spinning wheel for a chance to spend the night with the prince, he was awake.
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And?
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[THIS IS A WEIRD GODDAMN BOOK, BLONDIE]
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Shhh, this is the end! The prince makes his proclamation, and the wicked stepdaughter and her mother and unable to wash the shirt because they are trolls. But the peasant's daughter is able to do so, and so she will marry the prince. The trolls, in their rage, burst into flames, and the prince and his bride freed all the castle's prisoners, took the silver and gold, and left the castle East of the Sun and West of the Moon. They went off to be married and enjoy their fortune, and they lived happily ever after. The end!
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That's a surprisingly simple conclusion. Couldn't he have just avoided all of that drama by declaring that he wouldn't marry a troll?
[Why did he have the power to put conditions on the marriage but not deny it altogether he doesn't understaaaaand]
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[Maybe you just have to be a fairy tale character to get these things.]
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[He did sort of surround himself with criminals and pessimists, though. And Ginji. Who's sort of like a waggly-tailed dog.]
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[Even if she sort of was one in her Camelot life.]
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EXP farmingtarget practice?]Pursuing their dreams.
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Oh, yes! Everyone has a dream deep down they've always wanted to pursue. It was just a matter of reminding them of that!
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Not everyone...
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[Dreams are a childhood luxury, or didn't she get the memo?]
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[She will insist.]
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[How is that even a dream? It's just pointless wishing...!]
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....
No one's ever asked him before...]
...To live free, I guess.
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