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!))
[Voice]
Here you go!
[Voice]
Is she offering him something. Crap.
He waves a hand dismissively, expression rather unimpressed. Has the not gotten the memo that he can't see?]
Just put them in the teacups, the water's almost boiled. And bring them here. [He gives the counter beside the stove a little pat. If they're there, he can pour, and while it's true that he could just ask her to do it, this is practice he sorely needs.]
[Voice]
All right.
[She goes to do just that. ...And actually succeeds in doing every single job he assigned her. Amazing!]
[Voice]
Once the kettle starts to boil, Asch gingerly feels along the counter, finding the first mug, feeling up the edge- that's how tall it is. With his fingers wrapped around the handle, he guides the kettle to the edge, pours, counts off until it's full - he's tested it repeatedly with cold water, so it's pretty close - then repeats all of the above steps with the second mug.
It's a seemingly agonizing process, speed-wise, but once he's finished and the kettle is down and quiet, he looks rather satisfied with how it went.]
There. Tea's served, take whatever one you want.
[Voice]
Thank you.
[Grune takes the one on the left, then wanders in the direction of the kitchen table.]
[Action] wow I just noticed we never changed this
You mentioned strawberries?
[Action] ...XDDD Go us! (These two sure have talented voices!)
Oh! Yes, just one minute!
[She looks around, finds where she set them down on the counter, and goes to wash them...again, because she already did it at home. Whoops.]
[Action] voice across the village
[Action]
There. All finished.
[Action]
You were right- they are good.
[Action]
[Action]
You don't have to do that.
[Action]
[Action]
Do whatever you want, then.
[Action]
[It may not be tomorrow, given her memory, but he's very likely to get a deelivery at least at some point next week. She's a little better at remembering things that have to do with her friends, after all.]