Asch the Bloody (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dissonates) wrote2014-06-05 11:00 pm
dissonates) wrote2014-06-05 11:00 pm
[action/written]
[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.]
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.]
action;
He opens the door without hesitation or fanfare, mentally bracing himself for... whatever this is.]
You don't have to shout, I'm right here.
action;
With Asch right here, though, he can't help feeling relief. The anger's still there, somewhere, but actually seeing Asch here and willing to talk to him has made it crawl away. He's left with relief and a hollow sort of sadness.
He glances down, sees his fingers trembling, and tries to hide them in his jacket.]
You... lied about the healer, didn't you?
action;
Seriously?
Asch's responding expression is a withering look, the very picture of "are you stupid?"]
Obviously. I didn't want you running across the battlefield trying to find my corpse.
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How can you be so casual about it? They could've easily just decided not to bring you back, and then what? [Obviously this is something that's been weighing Luke down, if his expression is anything to go by; there's a worried twist in his lips, and his knuckles are white against his coat.] I know it's one of the risks. I know that you could disappear, and so could I, and who knows if we'd ever see our friends again.
Maybe dying isn't a big deal to you, but your life isn't just your own. There's Natalia and the others, and all the friends you've made here. They don't want anything to happen to you, so you can't just shrug it off like it's nothing!
[What an outburst. Rather mild for Luke, but still, he's kind of upset. Finally he just gives up, looking down at the doorstep.] I just... I don't want my last memory of you to be...
action;
...Whatever. It's better that he doesn't know.
Finally Asch scowls and glances away, though he does move aside so Luke can come in if he wants. If they're going to cause a scene he doesn't want the whole plaza watching.]
You make it sound like I chose to die. That's not what happened at all. And my life doesn't belong to anyone else, either! Not even Natalia.
[Not even you.]
no subject
Then again, it's always awkward with Luke and Asch.]
... It was just like before. You're always the one who stays behind, who says he can't be saved. I... I don't know what we could have done differently here or in Eldrant, but it's still wrong.
[He looks up for a moment.] I'm not going to say that I should be the one who died. [He's past that.] ... It's this draft thing. They're forcing us to fight, even though we have to live in a prison and deal with experiments all the time.
[His wings fluff all red and gold, agitated. He just wants a world where he and Asch can live peacefully. He can take the arguing, he can take whatever abuse is thrown his way, but he absolutely can't deal with a world that tortures anyone.]
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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.
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... 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.
no subject
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.
no subject
[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?
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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.
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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.]
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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.
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[His cheeks puff up for a moment, all tinged red, but he keeps his hands to himself and manages to just take the teasing. In truth, he doesn't mind it that much. If Asch is teasing him, then it means he's comfortable. Or something. Maybe.
And maybe Luke just likes the attention.]
Forget it. Next time I'll bring something over and you're gonna like it.
[Or throw it in the trash immediately. Whatever. He shuts up after a minute, taking in what he can of Asch's place with new eyes. He could only see so much from the entryway, after all.]
nah I don't think asch really let him in before
[Truth be told, he'd have preferred that to what he'd actually lost.
The house - or at least the entrance and living room area, which is what's mostly visible - is pretty sparsely decorated. It's not exactly bland, but it's definitely muted- calm, subtle colours mixed with greys and blacks. Probably about what you'd expect out of the home of Asch the Bloody. If there'd been any decor from Arietta, it's gone now, vanished with her or packed away. Even the cat sleeping on the couch is black and white.
There's a lot of books, though. On the table, on shelves, tucked away here and there. And at least the place is clean and has a nice smell to it- cozy, something subtle and vanilla-tinged. Actually, it smells a little bit like... home.]
no subject
[No one's really explained what happens when you come back. He's taking in the neat monochrome of where Asch lives, and then he's distracted by the cat. And the books. The books are interesting, but the cat is even moreso; he didn't realize he missed having something fuzzy and warm snuggling up to him at night until he woke up here.
He doesn't say anything to Asch, he just slowwwly slinks up to the couch and holds out his hand, hoping he doesn't scare away the cat. Oh, right, it's sleeping... He clicks his tongue a couple times, trying to get its attention.]
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[Asch remains standing, leaning against the nearest wall, keeping his distance. The cat, on the other hand, stretches himself out when the noise and Luke's hand makes him stir, yawning dramatically as only cats can. After a moment of bleary staring, the cat stands and saunters over to Luke, sniffing his hand and then rubbing up cozily like an old friend, beginning to purr.
...Well. At least this Luke still smells the same as the one who'd brought the kitten home for Asch three years ago. That's oddly comforting.]