[action] A glorious return

[faterecanted]

[It's probably a peaceful enough day, as Luceti goes. Maybe people are out looking through the shops. Maybe they're strolling through the plaza. Maybe they're sitting on the edge of the fountain, reading a book or having a snack.

Maybe there's a 6'2", 180 lb man in new feather pants being dropped into the fountain from a height of, oh, about 3.14 feet.

Wait, what?

Van is falling. That doesn't surprise him, it's exactly what he should be doing; except then he blinks, or thinks he does, and instead of purple and glow, there is blue sky. He has the barest of moments to register confusion over this development, and then he hits the water ass first. Shortly followed by the bottom of the fountain which, for the record, is hard. He's not feeling any better about the day he's had so far, either, now that it also includes being doused and viciously spanked by an inanimate object.

He may need a few moments to sort out what just happened to him.

Handily, that's about how long it takes for his regular clothes and journal to follow after, and land in the general vicinity of on his head and also his ruined pride. In case he needed a reminder that his boots are really heavy.]

What? [What else can a man possibly say in a situation like this?]


[Somewhat later, after he has recovered from his terrible butthurt, better remembered where this even is, and maybe picked up a change of clothes that isn't soggy, he will squelch over to his house. Oh, house 47, he barely knew you. He hopes it's still his house, because if it isn't someone's getting a terrible surprise when he barges on in through the front door and leaves puddles all the way to the laundry and shower.]

Comments

[dissonates]

[Asch swallows hard, feeling yet another wave of unease. He can hear and feel Van's proximity to him, and with them so close, the other man will probably notice the state of his eyes- the faded look of them, the way they never seem able to focus on anything. He's obviously already worked through what's happened. His tone of voice is difficult to read, but Asch seriously doubts that he's happy about this discovery.

...Ha... and he'd wondered if Van was going to gloat, after his apparent "betrayal". After everything that had happened, and his former master had still expected them to work together to recreate the world? He'd still chosen to come here, to this house, knowing Asch could still be living here?

He's not sure what to think about that. Back in Auldrant he'd had very little contact with the man after that meeting, and it's been several long years since then. It isn't nearly as fresh in his mind.

With all of that in mind, though... why is he helping?]

...It's not as if I'd planned on hiding it.

[Though he's not sure he would have mentioned it, had the penalty for his demise been less obvious.]

[faterecanted]

[He's helping because a goal is all he has left, as far as he knows; and he can't let everything he's done be for nothing. He refuses to let it be for nothing. There's far too much blood on his hands to stray from his course now.

Would it have been better, if his death was simply his death and that was the end of things? Even of all things, if his God Generals could not go ahead without him? Should he have fought harder? Should he have fought to his last, and made his sister strike him down? Had he killed himself to spite the Score, or had it succeeded in destroying him before he destroyed it?

His death would have been simple and uncomplicated; no one left to mourn but a sister who had desired it, and wouldn't. Nothing left behind but his ambitions, in Legretta's capable hands. It would have been easy, and ultimately so painless.

Living is so hard. Living here is a vast gulf of uncertainty, and of self-disgust for fearing it. He needs his goals. He needs Asch.

He needs the simplicity of a broken teacup, and a comfortable, well-worn resentment.]

That isn't an answer.

[But Asch is blinded. Asch is dependent. Asch will need him.

And he'll accept that, because isn't that how it should be?]

[dissonates]

[He'd thought it to be a pretty good answer, actually. All things considered. Really, what had Van expected him to say?

Still, Van seems fixated on his task, so Asch doesn't attempt to stop him. Not that he could, anyway. The state he's in? It would be laughable, like a child kicking at a grown man's shins. It's not like him to just sit there and do nothing, though, so after a moment's pause he starts to slide his way to the other end of the couch, away from the mess, and lowers his hand near the floor, snapping a few times. Within seconds, Star pokes his head out from beneath his seat, glowering at Van warily for a moment before giving the offered fingers a nuzzle. Good, one of his guides is still here.]

You seemed like you were in a hurry, so I thought I'd wait. Isn't it better to tell you when you're in a better mood?

[Which is, of course, the preferred answer above "because I didn't feel like it".]

[faterecanted]

[The cheagle's glower doesn't have much effect on Van. Perhaps he'd pay it more mind if he didn't have other things occupying his thoughts, worth mentioning or not.]

I need a change of clothes, but you've created a mess to clean up first.

[...Well. Perhaps they are worth mentioning, however obliquely.

The last of the teacup gathered, Van stands. The shards clink together in his hand, and the wet leather of his boots creaks slightly as it flexes. Now his knees are stained with tea, not that Asch can see it, wicking increasingly outward through the damp fabric. He should toss a rag on that puddle, at least, even if he leaves the others for later...]

And how long would you wait; until I noticed? Not hiding something doesn't mean admitting it. [His voice, though he's still projecting it clearly, grows more distant while he goes into the kitchen to dispose of the broken cup, and louder again, when he returns with a tea towel to drop on the spill.

If he spends enough time needling Asch about the small things, maybe he can put off the real question for days.]

[dissonates]

[Asch lifts the cheagle and sets him on his shoulder, finally standing up from the couch and edging his way around the coffee table, heading for the kitchen. Now he has to make more tea.]

Why is this such an problem for you? One way or another you would have found out.

[What he isn't saying is the concern dwelling in the back of his mind- the concern that Van will eventually find out how he died. And depending on just how bitter he's feeling about what happened in Auldrant, that could have disastrous results.]

[faterecanted]

Why did it upset you when I neglected to mention things?

[Because it's a matter of trust. He may have found out one way or another, but only one way involved Asch choosing to give him the information. And that Asch didn't... he thought they were beyond that, here; though clearly they never were on Auldrant... and never can be, now. Perhaps this would have been easier, if they were.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps...]

[dissonates]

Because you hid them for years. You were barely here for thirty seconds. You expect me to greet you by going, "hello, welcome back, by the way, I'm blind?" I'm not obligated to tell you everything that happens to me.

[His irritation is swiftly becoming anger. What right does Van have to feel so damned entitled?]