Ashe had a nasty habit of isolating himself. Anytime he was feeling remotely gloomy or even just too thoughtful, his immediate reaction was to find some place with as few people as possible. His own room wasn’t always safe (one of the fellows living there had knocked on the door when he’d been crying, embarrassingly enough), and there were so many tranquil places to be found here. He hadn’t lost his resolve to go home, and intended to make the best of a bad situation in the mean time.
Today, amongst the budding trees of the cherry blossom grove, he found himself perched and settled against one of their strong trunk. Even in his earliest days as an archer he’d become well-acquainted with climbing trees, and even in this case it provided some privacy. He was fine, honest! Just feeling a little out of it that day.
People were few and far between, perhaps because it was still early. A dewy fog dressed the canopy, not thick enough to totally obscure his vision but enough to make the world below feel a little like a dream. Ashe zones out as long as his mind will let him; his imagination conjures a pleasant scene where his siblings are playing in the grass, with Lord Lonato watching just beyond like the faithful guardian he was. He pictured Annette and Mercedes chatting amicably, Manuela singing a gallant ballad, and Cyril strengthening his axe arm with a faded training dummy.
Just phantoms, he was distantly aware. But it was nice, and he wanted to indulge just a bit longer.
Another phantom wanders in, and Ashe doesn’t immediately respond to it with nothing other than a fond smile. But this one moved far too quickly, and a certain familiar expression cuts through the fog of his mind like a blade. Ashe blinks, sits a little more upright, and wonders if perhaps he’d forgotten how to return to the world of the living. There was...no, it couldn’t be possible-
--but of course it could, for in this place death meant nothing.
His mouth goes dry as he deliberates what to do. When the figure begins to leave Ashe panics, loses his grip and nearly falls face-first into the dirt. He somehow catches a branch on his way down, grip white with effort and the stress this particular face brought on.
If he was wrong, Ashe was going to make a fool of himself. But he didn’t mind that, would rather try than risk letting them disappear again.
“Dedue!” Ashe drops without much grace, landing on his knee. “I-Is it really you?”
@florexfugit
