[action/written]

[dissonates]

[He's so stunned and disoriented to be alive again that he doesn't notice the lost connection inside his own head for at least three minutes.

For a while Asch just lies there in the grass, staring up at the sky and trying to figure out what the problem is. More specifically, what he's missing. He's not blind this time, that's a pleasant enough surprise. All his limbs and other senses are working. He thinks back to as many significant life experiences, pleasant or otherwise, and he can't come up with any gaps or missing memories. If he'd lost any, they weren't important enough to matter, apparently.

It's only when he finally sits up and tries to contact Luke and find out what's going on that he realizes he can't. He tries five times, wrestling with his fonons, prodding at the mental wall that used to be an open passage between his mind and his replica's. With that not working, it's easy to figure out what the problem is. He tries fonic artes- each of the four spells he's mastered, a few others learned from the Daathic books he'd gotten over the years. None of them work.

So. Answers that question. He'd kind of rather have taken the gap in memories, but it's not like anyone has ever asked him what he wanted.

Arriving at an empty house - aside from a noisy cat and a frantic cheagle - is just icing on the cake of his crappy life, so Asch wastes no time on sentimentality. Best to just get it over with: he opens the journal, jotting down a quick and emotionless note.]

I'm back.

Arietta the Wild has returned to Auldrant.

If anyone is willing to give me a debriefing on how the Zompania battle ended, I'd be grateful. I'll reopen Good Spirits tonight.

[True to his word, Asch'll be at Good Spirits that evening, though the atmosphere of the bar is significantly less cheery than usual. And with him tending the place, that's saying something.]

Comments

[dissonates]

[...How very... Luke. Asch watches his replica for a long moment, scrutinizing his expression. It's harder now, not being able to just poke at the link and get a feel for Luke's thoughts and emotions. That part of him's been cut out, and the hole left behind is still bleeding uncertainty. All he has is the memories, now, and at least they're somewhat helpful. It's not as if this is the first time he's dealt with Luke getting upset over his death.]

No one's happy about it. We cooperate because it's better than dying, but we've been searching for ways to escape this prison for years. The problem is that getting beyond the barrier isn't freedom, not with the world in the state it's in. If it isn't the barrier, it's the Malnosso. If it isn't the Malnosso, it's these cultists. And if it isn't the cultists, it's the world itself pulling us back in.

[Or, you know. Whatever drags them here. They still don't have the answers for that yet, either.]

It's like Auldrant. Sort out one problem and two more crop up. This world has a lot of issues to fix before we really get to live in it. Until then all we can do is deal.

[generalflirt]

It doesn't?!

[ He laughs it off, seeing that... Norma isn't there. He was hoping for too much, maybe. But he goes to get a seat at the bar anyway. Haha ]

Re: written;

[universal_charm]

_{[ True, but no need to ruffle feathers. ]}

No, not really. Just may take a break for a beer myself during the night.

[dissonates]

I'm shocked you've never noticed.

[Dryly, so dryly. With half the staff missing he's really not great at making conversation... dammit.]

written;

[dissonates]

[Ruffled feathers are perpetual with this man, it's impossible not to.]

Just don't get drunk on shift.

Re: written;

[universal_charm]

Yes, because being drunk and fryers go together so well.

_{[ He wasn't stupid Asch, give him some credit. ]}

[generalflirt]

Well then, with it being a dull and flat night where there is no party, what drink do you recommend to celebrate this mediocrity?

[wildsaber]

[He's always intense. Right now, he's too stressed out about things he can't control. Too angry. He's just too much. But Asch doesn't yell at him back, so that's encouraging; nothing gets them off track faster than having a spat. It's also much better for their surroundings.]

... You're right. Earning our freedom doesn't guarantee anything will get better.

[He twists a hand into his hair, frustrated. He doesn't want to accept the answers he's been given, but he can't see anything else. He doesn't know anything else. After a minute, he huffs and returns his hands to his sides.]

That's all the more reason I don't want to take anything for granted. Both you and Tear were... [He trails off, looking at his left fist and not bothering to elaborate.] Sorry, I'm probably being stupid again.

written;

[dissonates]

Can you honestly tell me that you make logical decisions when alcohol is involved?

[Because pretty much no one does, Kirk.]

[dissonates]

...Hn.

[Not being much of a drinker himself, it's hard to say what mix goes with what mood. He's still kind of clumsy with the aspects of bartending besides the technicalities.]

If you feel like being ironic, Going Merry is fitting enough.

[There's nothing merry about the mood of this place. Even the peppy little boat in the glass just makes him want to sink it.]

[dissonates]

[He wishes he had answers for Luke- answers that made their situation better, answers that made sense and would maybe, just maybe, make it hurt a little bit less. But there are no perfect, problem-solving responses to this, there never have been. It's just mess after mess and he's so, so tired. He doesn't even have the energy to get angry right now, whether Luke is being stupid or not. And how laughable is that?

Very, actually. That Luke is angry and he's just...

...he doesn't know what he is. The word "numb" makes him uncomfortable, makes him think of death and decay and the slow, painful degradation of his own cells. Numb is what he'd felt when his heart started giving out, numb is what he'd felt when he was impaled, over and over.

He's not numb, but he's not fine. And Luke...]

You're not. [It's quietly said, and Asch isn't looking at Luke this time, his expression pensive.] I didn't know that she died, too.

[wildsaber]

S-she'll be fine. I mean, you're here... so...

[It's not like Luke was alone, but having two of his most important people die... It's an underexaggeration to say he's upset. Worried, sad, angry, careening from hopeful to hopeless within the span of a minute. On top of that, is it really okay to wish for people to avoid the cycle of life and death? Who knows what kind of things the Malnosso do to the dead? They might not be any better than the people sacrificing innocents to make a bomb or whatever.

Ergh.

But he can't think about that right now. Asch is in front of him, whole and yet with a piece missing. He looks tired, and he probably is, but Luke just charged in here and started yelling at him anyway.

Luke bites his bottom lip, and then he reaches out, hesitant, until his fingertips find Asch's sleeve and curl into the fabric.]

... Can I stay for a little while?

Re: written;

[universal_charm]

That was sarcasm, Asch. I have no plans on getting drunk tonight while on duty.

_{[ And no, none of his best decisions had been made while drunk. Absolutely 0%. ]}

[dissonates]

[Asch glances down at the hand on his sleeve; Luke was clinging like a child, pleading childishly with childish words. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Luke was seven, maybe eight years old, in truth. Moments like this were when he'd remember.

He'd like to refuse, to be honest. It would be so much easier to snap his arm free, yell at his replica the way he always used to, and throw him out the door. It would be smarter to do that- break things off now before they went too deep again, before he couldn't. Last time Luke came to know him so well that yelling and insulting him didn't even work anymore. It felt like he never had a moment's peace.

...But you were never alone, either.

He hasn't forgotten the empty wound in his head, either, the space that Luke's presence used to unknowingly fill. He felt a bit healthier now, with his fon slots sealed, but he didn't really feel better, did he?

....dammit...]

It's fine. We have to talk, anyway.

written;

[dissonates]

Good. Then I won't have you thrown out.

[It's so nice that they have this understanding work environment, gosh.]

[wildsaber]

[He brightens a little, though not obnoxiously so. He's actually kind of desperate for attention, though he doesn't seem aware of it. More importantly, Asch wants... to talk to him? What could this be about?

He releases Asch's sleeve, suddenly diffident.]

A-are you hungry? We can talk while I make something.

[For a second, he's forgotten that Asch is a much better cook and he might not appreciate having his replica doing things for him. But still, Asch is tired and he's been through hell and back... probably... so Luke wants to be helpful.]

[generalflirt]

Sooo, a tang-y kick to the sweetness? I can dig it. Hook me up, master.

[ With a little wink, he twirls his fingers on the counter. Keeping deliberately - and possibly obnoxiously - peppy ]

Re: written;

[universal_charm]

Thrown out seems kind of harsh. I prefer politely escorted.

[dissonates]

[Asch snorts, turning away to lead them further into the house, pointedly avoiding the kitchen.]

I just came back, are you trying to kill me again?

[...Well, at least he's not as bad a cook as Natalia... but still. Discerning nobleman tastes were not one of the things he lost after his replication.]

If you're hungry, make whatever you want. I'm fine.

[dissonates]

[God, he can already tell that this is going to be the worst experience. Couldn't he have stayed dead at least one more day?

Still, somehow he manages to keep himself from killing the guy long enough to make his drink and slide it over. Please stop tapping the decor, sir.]

written;

[dissonates]

I'm a bartender, not a ballroom date. I don't do escorts.

[What do you think this is, a JRPG?]

Re: written;

[universal_charm]

_{[ No, but that would be awesome. ]}

Still, harsh. Can we at least do "asked to leave"?

written;

[dissonates]

Fine, if you're that particular about the linguistics of being removed from the premises.

[Captains are so damn fickle.]

Re: written;

[universal_charm]

Call it a little quirk of your cook?

_{[ It makes a big difference on the points of record, you know. ]}

[generalflirt]

[ Good move, my good sir.

Siiiiiiiip.

Loud siiiiiiiiip with a weird look at Asch because there's not a lot of people out here yet ]