Asher

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Asher presses his thumb to the space between his eyebrows, directly above the bridge of his nose. And he winces.

The headaches he had started to suffer from since Szofrit’s capture were getting worse. And the most frustrating part about them, besides their random appearance and painful lingering, had to be his inability to tell from where they appeared. What triggered them to begin with? He was eating and drinking regularly, still exercising; nothing had fundamentally changed about his day-to-day activities.

Sure, things were…strained…in the world, but they would eventually even out, right? It wouldn’t always be this low…even if, all things considered, this was the lowest things had been since the descent of that damned ship. He shudders as he remembers it, as the memory of the battle against the Mother of Machines flashes behind his closed eyes. He winces again, nostrils flaring, shoulders hiking up defensively around his neck.

It was all he could dream about, really. Good sleep had become a fantasy, one that he chased with reckless abandon, but was always just outside of his grasp. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d gotten eight long uninterrupted hours.

His hand falls to his side as a familiar figure enters the lobby of this building, looking more worse for wear than he did. Before she has a chance to even call out to him, Asher stands and places himself at her side to act as a pillar for her to lean on. It is subtle, the way he links his arm with hers and smiles down at her with a nod.

Pride was such an annoying vice.

“Any change?” he asks as he gently tugs her toward the door. The walk back to her inn room was not long, perhaps fifteen minutes, but the world was dangerous now in a way it hadn’t been before. Especially for the Starcalled. An escort was needed, necessary even, and…it kept him away from the Lion’s headquarters.

He wasn’t ready to face that can of worms just yet.

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In the wake of their battle against the Mother of Machines and her retinue of handcrafted soldiers, there was scarcely a moment where her attention wasn't pulled this way or another.

Requests for aid flooded the headquarters of every faction, uncaring of who provided help so long as they did it in a timely fashion. Efforts to rebuild what had been destroyed, retrieve precious materials left behind on the battlefield, escort what vulnerable population remained within Astorea's borders, and protect others from incoming attacks from the machines that had gone rogue without Szofrit's orders.

Precious were the moments where she could take a breather, finding her life in the other world less stressful than the current state of Arcia.

When she stumbles her way out of the research wing of the facility, there is another ready to catch her. Drained of something that might as well be just as precious as her life essence within this world, she would be a fool to deny his assistance when it is so readily given.

"Mmh." The loopy smile that tugs at her lip speaks volumes as she keeps Asher grounded where he stands, her features paler and her body temperature higher than usual; all common symptoms of extensive training. His warmth is welcome, and she cannot stop herself from resting her head atop his shoulder.

"It remains unresponsive as ever," responds the Storyteller with words closely blurring together, and she releases a quiet gasp. Her grip tightens around his forearm, indicative of the sudden build-up of frustration that takes control of her before long. "You would almost think the thing does not want to hatch!"

And like that, it is gone. She loosens her grip and nuzzles against the warmth that he provides, like a blanket.

"What is it? What are you thinking? It is not that I'm not grateful, but... Well, I can feel the things you do, you know."

Perks of being a magical empath, courtesy of the death game.


 

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The headache thumps at the base of his throat when she delivers her news. For all the days that he had brought her here, waited until she was finished with whatever happened beyond those doors in the facility, and then escorted her back to her room, the answer was always the same. And it wasn't as if Asher had some cosmic insight to give her, some nugget of truth that might help whatever they were doing. He was just as clueless, just as frustrated.

And he couldn't rid himself of the nagging thought that maybe, just maybe, he had been wrong. Szofrit was a dangerous creature, one that perhaps should have been put down. He couldn't fault the other Starcalled for calling for her head, especially after what she had done, the thousands she had slaughtered. But wouldn't they be saving more by keeping her alive, by drilling her with questions and prying the answers from her one by one? Wouldn't thousands be saved with what they gained?

But...what did she didn't have any answers to give? What if whatever her...malfunction was, had also leaked into this golden egg that held so many hopes and dreams upon its pearlescent shell.

He swallows, his eyes darting down to her upturned face, her question slowly sinking into the mud that was his thoughts. And he shakes his head.

"Have you tried sitting on it?" he ventures, attempting some humor.

He also knows that he's deflecting and sighs tightly while dragging himself back on target even as his free arm shoulders open the door and the two of them emerge into the twilight of the day.

"I...wonder...if we did the right thing," he murmurs quietly, his words sticking to his tongue, making his throat dry. "I don't know anything about that egg, Rael, but maybe keeping her alive—I dunno. I don't doubt anything you've told me, told everyone, but I can't—we're not making any progress." His molars grind together as his gaze lifts to the path before them, his crimson eyes narrowing.

"Shouldn't the egg...at least have hatched by now? What if it's fucked up too? What if it's...wrong...somehow?"

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There is comfort in knowing neither of their hearts is impervious to the seedlings of doubt that nestle themselves between the cracks. Misery loves company, and though she bears the same cross as he for their shared sin, hers weighs a bit more with the aching, the knowledge, that the stains on his hands would not be if it were not for her.

What is the saying?

Out of sight, out of mind?

Except that no matter where they look, there is no escaping the reality born of their choice.

It is why, perhaps, she labors day after day to keep herself busy with the latest plea for aid that she comes across - to stave off the guilt. Pretend that if she does enough good for those that yet remain in this world, then her debt to those that are gone might be eventually paid off.

Laughter was never something that came to her easily, and under present circumstances, it becomes even scarcer of an occurrence.

"Caught a researcher doing just that one day when I came really early, said they got tired from standing so might as well give it a try... Nothing."

The doors creak as Asher pushes them open, light pouring into the inside as the pair welcome yet another day in the aftermath of war. Her skin is prickled by a lovely breeze that is just enough to make her shudder, a humorless chuckle finding its way past her lips.

"It's... Not like that. See, the other egg, it was fueled by life that it took directly from the ground, absorbing everything near the Dragonship. That's why that entire area is now... Dead. There is nothing left there, and this one, well, it will take longer. Much, much longer, because to destroy more in attempts to hatch it would just be counterproductive."

Somewhere between the sentences, she convinces herself that by looking ahead, by ignoring the weight of his gaze upon her face, it might alleviate some of the doubts within him. If he couldn't perceive her own, then... Everything would be okay.

"She will wake, and she will hate us for it. She will yell, threaten, and refuse us. But even then, I believe there is more to her, I heard as much. Saw as much."

"And I can but hope that it is enough, but I don't think it could ever be."


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More bad news.

Let's be honest here for a moment: Asher knew in his heart of hearts that sitting on the egg was not the grand cosmic answer to the problem. They weren't chickens, after all, and even if there might have been some Beastfolk out there with avian natures and characteristics, he was mostly sure that having them attempt to sit on the egg wouldn't garner any different result.

Nevertheless, it would be folly to say that he hadn't hoped it would be their grand answer. Something so simple as sitting on the damned thing in the same manner a chicken would. Wouldn't that have been wonderful? A giant laugh at the end of all this...mess.

Luck would never be on the side of the Starcalled, not really. They were a force in this world that made things change, that took the mundane and made it fantastic. They had to go through trials and tribulations to prove their greatness and this, no matter how it affected the UI-locked or the Landers, was another such test of heroics.

Asher was quite sick of it all, which was funny coming from a Lion.

"Why do you think she will hate us?" he asks while dragging his thoughts back to the conversation at hand. They make their way slowly, strolling more than walking, and the further they get away from the MIT facility, the more tension leaks from his shoulders. It doesn't stop the headache, the pounding that makes him wince from time to time.

"What...exactly did she say before? When you connected with her? I don't think you ever said—or, rather, I don't think you've ever told me about it."

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Slow to recharge the requisite minimum amount of mana her body needs so as to not completely exhaust itself, it takes her long before she falls away from the beastfolk's side, no longer resting on his shoulder as he leads her clumsy steps towards their destination.

The space that descends with each pause, that hangs to his every word as if anxiously awaiting the next, is where her uneasiness makes itself at home.

"Perhaps because I seldom choose to talk about it, with it not being a pleasant tale."

The lump in her throat makes itself known, Rael swallowing and bringing her fingers to her neck reflexively as they touch to the lace wrapped in a neat ribbon around the injury she had nearly forgotten about.

"By looking at her, it was plain even to the naked eye that there was something gone terribly wrong. The way she moved, so unnaturally, yet without hostility. She smiled at us, since I wasn't alone in such a vision, and called us "saviors" as she did."

But she is never far away from him in terms of physical contact, their familiarity with one another is something gently fostered over time, something precious that even takes her by surprise in moments that she stops to think about it. The back of her hand brushes against his as they walk, if only to make sure he remains where she can see him.

"Like that, the vision ended because we were all... Attacked. There was blood everywhere, and wasn't even physically present when it happened. Miles, miles, miles away and it still happened. And then the battle for Camp Hope occurred, where again I saw someone on the side of the Magia - not Szofrit - who seemed... wrong. I picked up the pieces much later when I found that someone a second time, except... Hers wasn't a story meant to finish the way this one did."


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Asher

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you are a weapon and weapons. don't. weep

His gaze follows the slow ascent of her hand to her throat and his eyes narrow at the ribbon there. Another facet of that damned battle they hadn't discussed, hadn't had time to unpack and process. A part of him wondered if he really wanted to know and another part of him already knew, but didn't want to accept what had happened. Every time he thought of it, his stomach caved in on itself and he grew nauseous.

Today was no different. He yanks his attention away, to the path ahead of them, but he listens to every word that spills from her lips. He doesn't understand, not really, but he had asked for her to tell him what she knew and he was thankful for it.

The back of her hand gently touches his and he reaches out for it, his fingers interlacing with hers, a measure of tension easing from his shoulders as he exhales. Only a little steam this time.

"The one inside the egg called you saviors?" he asks as they continue their stroll, a frown knitting his brows together. "Do you think she had a reason to lie? Or...lull you into a false sense of security?" He licks his lips. "I don't remember Camp Hope—well, no, I remember hearing about it, but I...couldn't muster the energy to go and assist. I regret that I wasn't there."

He pauses. And then he sighs, his head hanging.

"Lions are supposed to protect people. Not for pay or land or anything; just because it's the right thing to do, and I...didn't. I don't know how many died at Camp Hope, how many got...locked." He swallows loudly. "The fact that I could've done something, could've changed some outcome, but I was too busy wallowing in self-fucking-pity is a mistake I'm never going to make again."

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"No, that was Szofrit." is what Rael corrects him on, merely shaking her head to either side to his later questions when, in truth, she has no clue as to how possible they could be. Again her heart flutters with the confrontation that all her knowledge didn't justify the choice she had taken, or perhaps it only has that reaction as he takes her hand in his own. She makes no attempts to retreat. "That smallest of meetings happened before the battle..."

"Some people were caught in a simulation in which they saw who'd be inside of the eggs, but in the end, it was just a simulation. Nothing conclusive. Too many unknowns."


Details elude her on the matter, the impossible-sounding ordeal still welcoming them back with newly-found riddles over the passage of time.

Rael stops walking as he pauses, giving him time to process before they continue onwards. It's not like they are in a hurry. Lips purse together into a thin line, her mouth opens, closes, then opens again with no comforting words at the ready. Nothing to reassure him.

"You can't protect everyone by yourself," a harsh truth, but one better spoken before it was too late for him to realize. "Asher, do you think it wrong to grieve? To mourn the life you had? No one would have blamed you, I'm sure no one does..."

"Is that why... You try so much now? To make up for what you believe was a mistake?"



 

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you are a weapon and weapons. don't. weep


Rael's words pull him to a stop. He turns to her, pink tinting his cheeks, his crimson eyes lifting from the ground between them to her face and back again.

"I wasn't a good person out there," he tells her, the words a whisper between them, an admission that he has grappled with since he realized he couldn't log out. "Selfish. Angry. Vindictive. I only really cared about myself and getting ahead and showing up my brothers and sisters." He snorts. "What I wouldn't give to, just...bullshit with them again."

The tension that has been holding his shoulders up during this conversation lessens and they drop as one hand wipes down his face in obvious frustration. "There's a part of me that...thinks this is just karma, right? I'm...paying for all the shit I did out there. And if that's the case, even a smidgen of the case, I want to do better—be better." He swallows. "But also, I don't want—I can't imagine what my mom went through. Me not coming home for Sunday dinner, not answering her phone calls, one of my sibs coming by my apartment, banging, them forcing the door open and finding me—"

His teeth click together as he shuts his mouth. Clearing his throat, he shakes his head and brings himself back to the present instead of being trapped in the idea of what might have been the scene of them finding his body.

"I don't want anyone else to go through that. It's a game, yes, but there's obviously something far more sinister happening and, you know, you can tell people until you're blue in the face that it's dangerous and they should stop playing, but how are they gonna believe you." He snorts again, this time in disagreement. "I fell for the trap. The world is beautiful and it reacts to you in a way that nothing else does. Death doesn't mean anything in Mario Kart or Zelda; why would it be different here?"

Blowing out a deep breath, he shoves his hand back through his hair and turns slightly so that he's facing the direction they had originally been headed in. While he's not shutting down the conversation, it's made clear that his intention is still to get Rael back to her room for the evening.

"I am also, still, a little bit selfish," he says after a moment, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I want people to know that I helped them, that they can count on me, that I'm...reliable in a pinch. Maybe they'll buy me dinner." He chuckles.

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She could console him and tell him that none of it holds true. That he is - was good, and all this negative self-talk is but a mirror of his emotions in the present, yet that would be to color his background in swathes of paint provided by her bias. By her endearment to the him that is in the present.

Would they have become so quickly attached to one another, had she met the reckless, self-caring him that Asher is so intent to look down upon? Had they crossed paths in the other world, would he have paid attention to her, or her to him for that matter?

"Who you are now..." A false start halted too soon in realization that she does not have the words for her meaning, a tragedy for one of her profession. Simplicity suits the moment best, with how the onset of grief sitting on his chest already provided an innumerable amount of complicated feelings to add to the mixture. "Who you are now is good. The Asher I know, and the person you were before, though linked, I'll treat as different people because I do not believe you are him anymore, but the product of his existence."

"Which is to say that I'll listen when you wish to talk of him, and I'll get to know him through you. But my Asher is the person that walks me back to my inn room, is a selfless protector and most importantly - a good person learning, and healing, from his mistakes."


No more to say, so she lets the silence linger.

"Is the way to your heart so quick that it could be bought with a lavish dinner? Goodness, it feels as though I've been slacking," for all the neutrality she often schooled her expressions and her voice in, a softer side of her often appeared when it came to the time spent between the pair.

"It is not dinner but I did something for you, I hope you don't mind." Rael lets up the ghost too soon in favor of alleviating the heavy mood that had descended upon the conversation, inducing a breath of fresh air to their walks. "Should you not like it, we can return things to the way they were, and I won't be upset. The last thing I want to do is force you to do something you aren't quite comfortable with, or wouldn't like."

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you are a weapon and weapons. don't. weep

Different people.

Perhaps Rael was right. Standing here as the sun set, as large streaks of orange and purple colored the sky and they spoke in quiet voices about the bullshit they had both participated in, the Asher he used to be couldn't be further from the present him opposite her. That Asher wouldn't have walked her home, wouldn't have carted her across the battlefield like her own personal work-horse, wouldn't have given two thoughts about keeping that murderess Szofrit alive. All that Asher cared about was being the best, topping the damage charts, and getting the shiniest loot from whatever dropped.

Funny how his thoughts changed once he couldn't log out, once he was taken advantage of by the very same folks he was running those dungeons and events with. The injustice of that time, of who he used to be, and the messy death of that person still raged within him, forever an ember that refused to go out. But he didn't have to give it oxygen, didn't have to nurture it and keep picking at the wounds, trying to one-up that ghost. Maybe Rael was right; he was healing, but he certainly wasn't doing it alone.

She made it possible.

He doesn't get a chance to tell her as much, doesn't even manage to hint at the possibility of this new-found discovery, before he chuckles and shakes his head.

"I've got a big appetite," he finds himself saying with a careful shrug and a carefree grin, his larger canines emphasizing his words. "And I burn hot so even a large spread doesn't go very far when I start working. Besides, if someone bought me dinner, I'd invite you along."

This surprise she hints at does draw his attention, his eyebrows knotting against his brow. He extends a hand, determined to see her to her place of rest for the night, but he doesn't move until she either takes it or indicates that she'd rather walk without their fingers laced together.

"Will you give me a hint?" he asks while tilting his head to the side, the long braid of his ponytail swaying with the motion. "Just a tiny one?"


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The rumble of his laughter declares her victory, and were she a naturally more expressive person, her hands would go to her hips and she would boast with a winner's grin plastered across her face.

But then she wouldn't be his Rael, the one who mirrors his joy in trickles, the curvature of her lips defined with a kindness that is near exclusive to him alone. Her Asher, the one who would ferry her in and out of death's clutches, should she wish for it. Perhaps even if she didn't.

"My, I shall do well to sharpen my combat skills to fend off the jealousy of your potential paramours," she jests with a bit of a giggle of her own as her hand falls in his, for how could the world possibly contemplate any other outcome? Where he goes, she would go he implies, and she does not move to correct him.

A tiny voice at the back of her hand asks, to the rhythm of her thumb brushing against his knuckles, if this is what friends do. Hold each other and talk to each other in the way they did most of the time, without reservation or expectation.

They are made of moments, fragments of broken glass bathed in the dangers that have seen them pulled apart, and brought together in the misshapen form of a world that is not their own. The protector and the muse.

A complicated feeling rises in her chest, but she pays it no mind.

"Well, I have made arrangements for you to sleep elsewhere." He tilts his head and Rael leans forward to plant a kiss to his cheek, a decisive distraction to keep him from asking any more questions as she pulls and pulls him forward, her energy seemingly restored. "That's all I'll say about it."

 

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you are a weapon and weapons. don't. weep

He immediately snorts, the sound too bovine to be made with a human nose.

"You don't need to do that," he tells her, his smirk remaining stretched across his lips. There's a pride there in the set of his shoulders, in the manner that he stands, in the assurance that rumbles along with his words. "If you want to get strong because you want to, that's fine, but I don't have paramours, Rael. And even if I did, they wouldn't—I'd never let them harm a hair on your head."

The words come easily to mind and even easier to the air between them. And it's only after they've had a moment to bury into Rael's ears that he realizes what he's said—or, at the very least, what he's insinuated. His crimson eyes widen and his lips part, an apology resting upon the flat of his tongue moments before she leans up and presses her lips to his cheek.

A hot flare of emotion tumbles through him and rises in his cheeks, making them pink with embarrassment.

"Fine," he says while turning his face away from her, "I won't ask for any more hints."

It's all he can do to bring back what little lightness there was between them, beyond the talk of failed experiments and the ghosts of their—his—past. She tugs him along and he follows, obediently, gladly, while his gaze sweeps over anyone who passed them, always looking or sensing for someone—anyone—who would do her harm.

He doesn't examine the way he puts her safety first and worries about her need for rest and nourishment over his own. He doesn't listen to the tiny, chuckling voice in the back of his mind which wonders why she's so special nor does he listen to the way his heart speeds up at the thought of the special surprise she had for him. He doesn't think of this being some cruel joke, some play against his lov—

"Why...do you play, Rael?" he asks her while clearing his throat, forcing his thoughts to jumble and scatter like dandelions on the wind. "You know the risks and yet, you're here, day in and day out. It's noble, but...don't you—isn't there someone out there for you? That would...mourn you if anything happened?"


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"But I would get much stronger had I a motivation to begin with... Well, as you wish. I don't doubt you would keep me safe so long as I allowed you to, and even then, some more." If she has realized the meaning of his words, the playful intent now hidden behind the bashfulness of her companion, she does not show.

And neither does the elf press him for answers, for explanations, even as color takes upon his skin and she catches sight of it out of the corner of her eye. Her lip curls.

Soon enough, her turn to answer questions comes and they give her pause, the tell-tale sign of consideration, of care being put into the answer that she would give to such intricate things.

When he has bared his soul, insecurities and regrets neatly bundled together in immutable form, how could she not reciprocate?

"I have a brother, and the rest of my family, as well," she would answer the second question first, as it was easiest for her to do. "Opportunities have come and gone my way as of recent, and I am decently popular in regards to what I do. Sure enough, I have people that would miss me, as I know I would miss them."

"Someone I knew died in this game years ago, back when everything got televised and the servers shut down for the disappearance. We weren't close by any means and people were compassionate at first, until they found out what had truly happened, that she had been a victim of this game. She had thrown her life away for, these are not my words but, a few hours of entertainment."

"I was never good at understanding people. What drives them, what makes them feel things, what makes them want to do things. I can pretend well enough,"
eerily, in the blink of an eye, the demeanor of the elf would change in its entirety to shift into the full bloom of a lively smile - a young woman oozing energy and love from the way she could infect every word in a sentence with the selfsame desire to live. A blink and Rael would be back to her subdued self. "But that isn't me, I don't think. Not when I don't know why I should act and behave like that for everyone else."

"So I play because I thought I could learn her reason. Why, as others put it, she threw her life away for this world and what she gained by doing so. Maybe somewhere along the lines, I would learn why people are... people. By learning their motivations for playing, how that reflects on them as their characters versus who they are, maybe I would find a way to finally understand others."

"In all honesty, it's not honorable nor altruistic... It's just... Looking for answers to a problem I can't quite explain."


 

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you are a weapon and weapons. don't. weep

Rael was correct.

There was nothing she could do to stop him from standing between her and the dangers of the world. Wherever she went, wherever she wanted to go, Asher would be there at her side, for better or for worse, until she told him otherwise. And even if she did send him away, even if she cursed his name and banished him from her side, he would still watch on from the shadows, still stalk her steps, and keep her from harm's way.

It was....obsessive, the way he worried about her. And it explained why he was so unwilling to let her out of his sight, even for something as small as picking up groceries from the market or conversing with the other techs in the institute. The realization forces his brows to furrow and his mouth to dry, even as his fingers tighten in their clasp around her hand.

He listens attentively as she explains her life outside of the game and a wistful surge of emotion clogs his chest. He nods to her words, because it's the polite thing to do, but he can't help but wonder what his own family was doing at this moment, how his brothers and sisters were getting on, and if his mother had recovered from his death. He winces and clears his throat while packing up such damning thoughts.

"I don't remember hearing about her on the news," Asher tells his partner, "but I wouldn't be surprised if they phrased her death that way. A few hours of entertainment feels like a brand new life when you've suffered enough in the outside world. Having friends here, family, a guild, even a lover; they mean so much to the whole human condition, and going back to an empty apartment and...ramen...every night makes this place seem even brighter."

He cants his head to the side and peeks at her, the question vaulting from his tongue before he has a moment to consider it.

"Have you found anything?" he asks. "Do you...think you understand a bit better now?"


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.


Her lack of a reply showed how she couldn't relate to such a way of life, blessed as she was with a loving family, a roof over her head and food waiting on the table any time.

"About her? Not a thing," she confesses, though it is with the mild mannerisms that denote her guilt, for she also hadn't spent much time looking. Her death had been a catalyst for change, a motivator for the Storyteller's journey, but at the end of the day, she barely knew the girl's name. "I don't know why the comments aimed at her struck me so, truth be told. I would find myself thinking back to them now and then, but..."

"I haven't looked. Not in any real capacity. I wouldn't know where to begin, either."


Did he think her horrible for openly admitting to her lack of human nature?

"Asher, you ask as if the humanities aren't complex." His fingers coil tighter around hers and she can but brush her thumb over her knuckles to usher calm back into his bones. "I encounter people and think of them as stories. I encounter events and think of them as stories. Stories are to be recorded, categorized, and safely kept for later generations to remember."

Rael always spoke as if she was an outsider to events, a mere observer to the things happening around her, and she spoke nothing but the truth when doing so. If she didn't know anything, she wouldn't lie unless she were to gain something from it. A story, for example. "A legacy can endure, everyone likes their heroes. That's why I do what I do, another side of it. I would like to ensure something remains of these people, the sides they don't show others. They are... A lot of them are still terribly complicated and do not say what they truly mean, even in here. It's a bit of a wasted opportunity, if you ask me."

"And then... Things like Szofrit happen, and I intervene, and I cannot say my motives were entirely altruistic for doing so. The possibility of her being able to help was there, but nothing can tell if it'll outweigh the cost endured, and for that, I will be labeled a villain. It is only fair, for I made a gamble of which I will not know the results of any moment soon."


Rael displayed incredible awareness for one admitting to what basically amounted to a crime. Her reason would never hold in court, nor would it appeal to the hearts of others.

"My fatal flaw - I will do anything for a story."

 

Asher

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you are a weapon and weapons. don't. weep

There is a long moment where Asher says nothing. The sound between them consists of the gentle patter of their feet against the dirt road and the air whooshing into and out of their lungs. But he has no words for her, nothing that would add to their conversation. His mind, nevertheless, spins and tumbles and sifts through everything he's been given, but he can't give a name to the feeling in his chest. Tight, restrictive almost, but also warm and tender like a mother's hug.

"At the end of all our days," Asher begins slowly as the door to the tavern and inn approaches, "we are nothing more than stories told to friends, family, and loved ones. We are memories. I don't think your wanting to catalog these stories is a flaw, Rael. Because some people believe that there won't be anyone to tell their story."

He turns to her and his smile is small, but filled with a kind of admiration that he can't possibly put into words. "You brave a death game to make sure that isn't true. Maybe you don't think it important or maybe you think it's not brave enough, but I think you're amazing. If people forget, you'll be there to remind them." His free hand reaches out and tugs the door open and he waits for her to cross the threshold.

"And I'll make sure you get your story and you get to wake up after it's been written down. I promise."


[ @Rael ]

 

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"You are..."

How kindly he looks at her in the full monstrosity of her barest self.

Her stalwart defender, her first and last supporter, and part of her pities that fate for him. Undeniable as their bond might be, he shouldn't be made to bear the brunt of sins brought about by her hand, not when it is he who would suffer the consequences, and she who could escape at a moment's notice.

"I don't think I understand you as much as I would like to."

The press of a button and she would be away. Had he realized it was that easy for her, and thus made no attempts to counter her? Or had those been his honest feelings?

Her hand parts from his as she's made to step forward and into the inn, undoing the clasp that keeps her cloak set upon her shoulders and collecting it within an arm's embrace.

"Has my, uhm, room been cleaned?" By way of greeting, she inquires of the innkeeper, mid-conversation with another customer. It was not an uncommon occurrence for her to interrupt another's conversation, especially if she knew them well. A palm stretched out towards him, asking for the key.

His eyes would flit over the pair but for a moment, as if gauging something. "Aye, up to code - set and proper! You happen to need anything, well, I think you know by now where to find me."

The key falls in her hand and Rael returns to Asher's side, guiding him up the steps of the main staircase with their feet beating against the familiar path to her room, drowning the hubbub of the tavern as the pair leave it behind.

She would stop him at the top of the stairs, impeding his advance by stepping in front of him.

"I have a request: Close your eyes and hold my hand. No peeking, please."

@Asher
 

Asher

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you are a weapon and weapons. don't. weep

Asher finds it to be an odd sentiment, if he's being honest with him, and the way his eyebrow quirks upward at her words indicates as such. He hasn't hidden anything from her and she knows far more about him before he was locked in this game than he's ever told another person. So what did she mean that she didn't understand him? What more was there to understand?

He believed his motives were quite simple: stand between the big, bad, ugly thing and the raid group, protect them when he could, and be praised for his contributions afterward. At least, that's what he believed his motivations were...

Like a puppy following their master, so too does Asher follow in Rael's steps. Consequently, when she stops at the top of the stairs, Asher is forced to draw to a halt as well. He peers down at her, curiously, but he doesn't say anything until she gives voice to her request. And his initial reaction is to immediately chuckle and grin.

"What in the world do you have planned?" he asks with a shake of his head. But he does as she asks him to and closes his eyes, not afraid that she might shove him down the stairs or depants him.


[ @Rael ]

 

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"Nothing of your immediate concern." As his eyes close and she takes her hand in his, the path changes from the familiarity both have grown accustomed to, the soft chime of keys in her hand as she lifts them up several times to compare to the numbers written upon plaques by the doors lined to either side of the hallway.

When he is released from her grip, it is when she stops in front of a door and gently pushes it open to reveal quite the upgrade from their respective previous accommodations: a spacious room with two individual beds and their respective nightstands, with chests at the foot of each and ample leftover space. There is a fireplace as well as a room divider to shield anyone's privacy while dressing up, or taking a bath in the bathtub stationed not too far off from it.

"You are UI-Locked and that's very complicated for me when you travel, or for you, when I log in but you aren't around." Hence the inclusion of a blank message board sitting blank by a window that rests on the wall opposite of them.

You desire the company of genuine connections, and I've come to like your company.

"A place for both of us to come back and keep each other updated. Our very own, ah, headquarters, if you would."

Why, exactly, had she thought it to be a good idea somehow escaped her even now as she beheld the room in its untouched state, awaiting for the adventurers who would claim it to throw it into disarray. She had thought to do something to repay him his kindness, and now she feared having put him on the spot by binding him to her even further.

Rael steps past the threshold now, giving him room to do the same should he wish to do the same.

"Moving in together is a big step but I do hope I haven't creeped you out, but if I have, this is all a joke and we can definitely go back to how our rooms were before."

@Asher
 
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