ad meliora.

toward better things. just asher. 21.

[finnuf]

finn holds asher's hand loosely enough that he can easily take it back for himself, and finn has no qualms with that. his hands settle comfortably into his own lap, and he looks back at the dance floor. he doesn't even look at asher to see why he's pulled his hand away; he doesn't have the slightest idea of the emotion in asher's eyes or heart. he truthfully doesn't think his peace of mind matters that much. it's just an afterthought; something he hasn't even considered much himself until this moment.

he wonders what changed, though; what settled his restless soul. maybe it really was just returning. closure, they might call it, and yet it feels like so much has opened up, too: a war, and opportunities among it for his country to rise from the ashes gleerium reduced it to. at the same time, maybe closure is right; quieting the ghosts of his past, hoping they rest easy alongside the countless men that died for etlia. it's over now. some peace came with that realization, certainly; the dead no longer suffer. he no longer has the weight of a nation on his shoulders. there is, strangely, some freedom in that.

and yet it isn't over, is it? maybe the grief is. perhaps he can close the door on the chapter of his life where it permeated everything, but etlia is not dead. there is still more to fight for here. part of him is so tired. he just wants to rest. he wants to let this newfound peace truly settle, replacing all the despair that sank into his bones in the past two years. he can't, though. he knows, there is still more to fight for. what is there for an etlian to do but fight for their life? maybe he wouldn't know what to do with anything else.

this night will end, and he'll ask asher tomorrow if he wants to stay in noyillai or return home to face all of the hope and danger found in ganggyn's new war. he knows, inevitably, etlia will call them back. thinking about it makes him feel restless. if they stay here too long, will they miss an opening to place the etlian people in better standing with ganggyn? if he is gone too long, will the etlian resistance slowly building before he left dissipate?

he doesn't need to think about it now. asher's assurance that he'll be a better dancer next year brings finn back to the present. one more carefree day. and we'll have something even better to dance about, asher says, and finn's lips quirk up into another soft smile. "i hope so," he replies, and unlike the finn of the past, he believes it could be possible. even amidst war, he has hope that they could find some true happiness in the next year.

or they might not survive until next year. there's no way to know for certain. somehow, the prospect of his own death doesn't scare him. he knows asher would be sad, though; likely even sadder than finn would've been if asher truly hadn't survived his curse. if anything, for that reason, he'll try not to throw his life away.

asher laughs, and finn's smile grows. "what? i said i'm curious, not that it would be good." the more he thinks about it, the more it would likely be a waste of gold, though. curiosity isn't a good enough excuse. "okay, fine. do you want to see what else there is? maybe something like..." finn's voice trails off as he considers what sounds most appetizing to him. "chicken?"

[ufasher]

"ask some poor fool who already got the fish... if you can find anyone. they're probably already sick," asher can't help but laugh. it dawns on him belatedly that he's not sure he's seen this side of finn before, a little silly, a little playful. the finn he's known for so long took himself so seriously for a man who was on the run from responsibility. or perhaps that he felt that he could not allow himself to laugh, having seen and survived the things he did. asher still only knows the horrors of war from the pages of books, he knows he'll never understand. still, he can appreciate that finn is so much happier now, so much brighter and more willing to smile.

"chicken sounds safe," asher agrees, though he really would have agreed to anything finn might want. "and something to drink, maybe. dancing is more tiring than i remembered." he'll recover, he tells himself. he's healing every day, even if his body is still sore all over and his limbs lacking the muscle they had this time last year.

the young man sighs, releasing the tension from his shoulders more than anything. there's still a war going on out there. those who were less fortunate than he and finn, who couldn't find their way to noyillai ad the sanctuary of the neutral ground, are likely still fighting for their lives. the innocent villagers are no doubt having their homes appropriated for soldiers, their grain houses plundered to feed greedy armies. asher needs to get stronger. how shameful would it be if he his away from battle for the second time in his short life? and... he thinks of his mother and his tiny baby brother. will they be safe? will his brother and stepfather be hated for their gleerian blood and turn the whole household into a target for ganggyn? will the etlian spirit still in his mother make them an enemy of gleerium? asher doesn't want to think about it. but he can't run from it; running won't guarantee their safety.

"after the festival," asher's tone is rather serious, matching the mood his thoughts had turned to. "will you help me get back to eryvine? with this war... i'm worried about my mother. my grandfather put the household in a... delicate position to keep his power." he's under no delusions that he'd be able to do anything to protect his family himself; he knows that finn is much more capable of a fighter. but perhaps he can learn more along the road, pick up his swordfighting lessons again and build his strength back up. "i just remembered them, for some reason. and... i'm still scared to die." walking into a warzone without an army behind him may as well be a death wish. asher just hopes he's wrong about that.

[ufasher]

CONGRATULATIONS! you have LEVELED UP!

ASHER has received a 5 STAT level up and is now LEVEL 9.

you will gain levels by being active throughout the roleplay and meeting certain requirements. these requirements are a secret, but consider every ic post as something that gains you experience and puts you one step closer to your next level up.

remember, the stats you can add have been randomized, and you must now distribute one point each across five different stats. this means you will add one stat point to all stats but four. you must add two of those stat points to two of the strong skills listed on your application (SPEED, LUCK, CHARM.) 

please record this level up on the “stat tracker” page of your status page, and link this post under the “link” heading as proof of your level up. well done!

[finnuf]

"i think they say that when it comes to emotional wounds, but it's probably more accurate in a physical sense anyway," finn replies. then again, he supposes asher's wounds run far deeper than the surface, physical ones. it's probably true for all of it, though. he hopes it is, anyway; he hopes in time asher will be stronger and less afraid, even if he is different now, and may be changed in some ways forever.

finn wonders, briefly, if he'll miss it. there strangely are aspects of the past he misses; like feeling less responsibility. not having to face his failures, just fighting arena battles and doing mercenary work. he didn't have to worry about war and honor or anyone else. he didn't even worry about asher back then.

but asher says he looks happier, and finn smiles and nods once. he thinks, somehow, he is, but, "happy somehow doesn't feel like the right word." what is the right word, then? the weight on his chest isn't so heavy anymore, which he finds strange. how can he feel less tormented upon returning to his homeland, facing the people he failed, and accepting responsibility for their lives once more? how does responsibility feel lighter than having nothing? "more...at peace, maybe. everything was so painful. i don't know if it's gone away, exactly, but it's almost like...i have more room for it now."

he's never really admitted how difficult surviving after the fall of etlia was to anyone. he's sure everyone around him knew he was suffering, if only because they knew of the events that unfolded. it's different to say it, though; to acknowledge how much it all hurt, especially to someone else. maybe especially to asher, who once seemed to idealize him so much. maybe it is better like this after all; both of them being more human. asher is not the sun and asher is not some stray dog insistent on following finn everywhere; finn is no hero. they are just two people with no right to survive, trying to figure out what to do with it all.

"there just felt like more to dance about this year," he says. "like you not being dead." he says it lightheartedly, because he feels like he needs to mask how much he means it. when he thinks about it, asher might be his best friend these days. it's a strange realization, for someone that wasn't sure he counted asher as a friend at all previously. maybe almost losing someone just makes you appreciate them more.

maybe he should tell him. maybe asher should know how much he means it.

he'll tell him eventually. for now, he says, "yeah, let's split something," and turns his attention to the very important matter of food. "they were touting fresh fish around here somewhere. i don't know how fresh it can be without being on the coast, so i'm curious to know how it compares to etlia's."

[ufasher]

"more...at peace, maybe."

asher is quiet, stunned silent by memories he hasn't dwelled on in quite some time. who can blame him for forgetting the things that he had hoped for when finn first asked him to follow to etlia for the first time since both had left? he's been pretty preoccupied with staying alive for the last several months, after all. but it hits him, suddenly, that that had been his goal originally. when they visited the wall, when they constructed a crude monument to the dead there. wasn't this exactly what asher had hoped for? he knew, somehow, that it was impossible for finn to truly forget about all the ghosts that haunted him. all he had dared to hope for was his companion to find peace, to accept what happened and move forward regardless of it.

somehow, that wish came true.

there's a mistiness in asher's eyes that comes from guilt; he's forgotten about finn in a lot of ways, wrapped up in himself. even now, with his hand resting gently in the other man's, he never thought about what finn was thinking, what finn was feeling. asher got caught up in his own emotions, and again his own hopes and dreams, only much more selfish ones this time. he doesn't dare say a word of it, though he gently takes his hand back under the excuse of rubbing half-formed tears out of his eyes before he really looks like he's going to cry.

he smiles at finn, somehow still selfish enough to think that he's glad that his life was something to dance about. "i'll be a better dancer next year," he promises, though he's pretty sure the said the same thing last year too. "and we'll have something even better to dance about." he doesn't know what that will be, he just hopes for the best for both of them.

"fresh fish??" all other thoughts are banished from his head as he frantically tries to wrap his head around the idea of fresh seafood in a land-locked area. "finn, i just got better. are you trying to poison me again?" asher can't help but laugh despite himself. he and finn are both children of the sea, he knows. the waves sang them lullabies at night and were their playmates during the day. asher knows the taste of fish so fresh it had been breathing up until the moment it went into the fire. what could this festival have to offer that could possibly compare? "never mind, i don't want to split something with you now. your taste is terrible."

[finnuf]

asher suggests that he still might not be himself, and maybe there's some truth to that. maybe that's not a bad thing, he says also, and finn nods. "you're still you. just different." finn isn't sure if it's good different or bad different. maybe it's just neutral different. understandably different. it would be unrealistic to expect asher to return to the smiley, happy-go-lucky version of himself finn once knew, after experiencing what he did. it's a little strange; finn will never really know what he experienced. even though they were together, asher had to face whatever happened in his mind entirely alone.

asher admits he's already tired, and finn laughs a little too, then nods once again, walking beside asher to find a place to sit down. at least he said he's having fun. that's a good thing. it's good that asher can properly enjoy things again, even if he's not the asher he once was. maybe finn will like this asher better; god knows sometimes the enthusiastic version of asher was too much for him early on, when asher first decided he would follow finn without him having much of a say in it at all.

he's more subdued now. it would be a relief if he smiled as brightly as he used to, but the world is different now and so are they, and finn doesn't expect anything to feel the same as it once did. it's strange, though; he feels better these days, while asher has been struggling, like some odd overall balance of their emotions must be maintained.

"hopefully one day you'll be less tired," finn says. the priestess they visited mentioned it would likely still take asher time to recover, but didn't give a timeline. it's probably different for everyone, anyway. "i think it makes sense. your body is probably still exhausted from fighting everything."

they sit down, and finn watches everyone as they dance, then briefly looks over at asher. he looks happier than he's seen him in a while, even if he still looks tired. that's a relief, too. finn looks down at their intertwined fingers then, and loosens his grip, but doesn't pull his hand away. he doesn't mind it.

"i don't know why i feel better today than last year, even though things are worse for so many people," he says absentmindedly, still staring out at the dance floor. maybe it's just time healing wounds, or him doing what he needed to start healing them himself. maybe it's the smallest spark of hope that etlia can rise again during this war between ganggyn and gleerium. he isn't sure, and he supposes it doesn't matter. they should try to enjoy things while they can.

"are you hungry or anything?" he asks, turning to asher. finn is far from rich, but he has enough coin to afford for them to eat something in celebration of the festival. or they can just stay here. the atmosphere is nice, so finn doesn't mind either way.

[ufasher]

"i will be," asher is confident in his ability to heal even if it takes longer than he'd like. he knows there was a lot of damage done and that it'll likely take twice as long to undo it as it did to occur. such is the fate of being human. he gives finn a smile, perhaps trying to comfort the other man more so than himself. "what's the saying, time heals all wounds... is that how it goes? anyway, i'll get better. i'll just... take it easy for now."

he feels finn's hand relax in his own, glancing down momentarily to the point where they connect. he doesn't pull away. asher doesn't withdraw either, though he also tells himself not to think too much about it. he's not some child who blushes when holding hands with a crush (though he would have every right to be; he never had such an opportunity to indulge in innocent, puppy love with how isolated he was). he looks away almost as soon as he glanced down and while he doesn't blush, he can't help the little smile on his lips. if he lets himself indulge in this moment for just a little bit, he would admit that it feels good to have his hand in finn's; it's warm, it feels safe. asher supposes he should just be glad that he no longer fears it.

"you look better than last year too," asher speaks without thinking, as he sometimes does. "i mean— you look happier. you didn't want to dance with me at all last time, i had to practically beg you," he tries to make light of it, tries to poke fun at the both of them. how much has changed in a year; he can't help but be constantly reminded of that fact.

but finn is right. things are worse for the whole continent since last year. war inevitably means famine and death will follow. how many innocent lives will be lost this time? asher, weak as he may be, can't help but think how unfair it would be for him to run and hide from a war for the second time in his short life. they should probably return to etlia soon, they should probably try to help the defenseless there who will be caught up in the fighting. asher's hands turn a bit clammy at the thought, though; something tells him that going back home will only mean his death, this time for real.

he's glad when finn speaks again and distracts him from his thoughts.

"um," asher isn't hungry, to be honest, but he knows he needs to eat to continue to recover his strength. "no, but we could split something if you want?" maybe finn is asking because he's the one who wants to eat. asher certainly won't say no to that even if he suspects his stomach shrunk a few sizes while he was unwell. "what do you want?"

[finnuf]

asher seems nervous.

finn isn't always the best at reading other people's emotions, if only because he's usually too busy dealing with his own. now, though, he watches asher's face. he looks flustered. finn doesn't even consider the fact that it might be because of him, and more figures it's because asher is worried he won't be able to dance properly. maybe he's afraid he'll collapse in the middle of the ballroom, or otherwise make a fool of himself somehow.

"it's okay," finn says as well. i won't let anything happen to you. he doesn't say that part out loud, even if he means it, both when it comes to making sure asher stays upright through the entirety of the evening or another curse or danger falling upon him. finn wants to protect him now. he wants asher to live happily again, and smile like he used to. part of him is afraid he never will.

asher smiles at him now, though, and it doesn't rival the brightness of asher's smile before the nightmares tormented him, but it's still a smile. finn smiles back. there's so much relief in that: he's not dying anymore. "thank goodness," finn says softly, close enough to asher that he doesn't need to speak too loudly, even over the sound of the festival's orchestra.

he still leads them through the steps of the dance with more care than he usually would. he wants asher to enjoy this moment, after all, and not to feel stressed or in pain trying to keep up. he hopes asher feels the same sense of relief that he does, that they are even here and able to do this at all. it's such a strange and unfamiliar sense of gratitude, but it's more than welcome.

"i'm glad you're better now," he says, voice soft once again. "i was afraid you would never be yourself again." finn didn't know how much he missed him until faced with the idea of losing him forever. now, after clawing their way back from the brink of that reality, finn doesn't want to take him for granted anymore. sure, asher was little more than a nuisance to him for a while, but finn is different now; he feels different now. he doesn't think anyone in the world will ever believe in him as much as asher does. for a while, it felt like a burden; a predecessor of inevitable disappointment. now...he feels better because of it. like he wants to become the kind of person asher thinks he is.

the song comes to an end soon enough, and finn stops their dancing, and checks in with asher. "do you want to sit down?"

[ufasher]

asher remembers more of the dance than he expects. or maybe it's just finn's expertise leading them; somehow, asher feels like the other man is putting more effort into the steps than he did last year. it feels like a different world since then; they're both different people now. asher knows he's lost some of the energy he had last year, perhaps not just due to his recent ailment. maybe he's a little more mature now, too. witnessing the monster attacks, returning home and witnessing the wasteland that used to be etlia, finally opening his eyes to the many things he had long been sheltered from... finn is different too. he smiles more, asher realizes. he speaks to him so softly. if his heart had any sense, it wouldn't beat just a little faster when finn is close enough that he barely more than murmurs to be heard over the orchestra.

"i'm glad you're better now. i was afraid you would never be yourself again," finn tells him. asher feels like he wants to cry.

"maybe i'm not," asher says instead, his voice equally soft as he contemplates aloud. "but maybe that's not a bad thing?" would finn still like him if he smiled a little less? if he was less trusting? if he was more cautious than he ever was before? does finn even like him right now? asher still finds himself doubting that, somehow; or maybe it's just that finn doesn't like him the way asher wants to be liked.

the music comes to a close all too soon, yet not soon enough. asher is fatigued enough that he doesn't think he can stay on his feet for another song, so he nods his head in response to finn's question. "yeah, i'm having fun but i'm already tired. it's pathetic," he laughs at himself, at his situation. how miserable he is that he can't even dance to two songs back to back, only in his early 20s.

"i feel like an old man," asher sighs, walking away from the dance floor without letting go of finn. he can indulge himself a little bit, pretend he needs the support despite being fully capable of standing and walking under his own power. "i'm too young to be this tired, aren't i?" he supposes that he does have a lot of sleep to catch up on still. maybe it all makes sense.

he finds an open bench against the wall to sit down, somewhere where he can still see the whirling of skirts and tailcoats as men and women dance across the ballroom floor. he smiles to himself, just softly, as he watches a young couple awkwardly stumble through their first few steps. would asher have looked like them if he had been allowed to attend the festival when he was younger? what if he had gone to the academy, if he had met finn there. would they be better friends now? would they have fought side by side in the war? would the outcome be any different?

asher doesn't know.

all he knows is that he somehow forgot to let go of finn's hand.

[finnuf]

asher's self depreciation doesn't really come as a surprise. finn knows asher is still recovering. he's still not back to the state he was in before they returned to former etlian territory, but even finn can tell he's better, at least in some ways, than he has been for a long time. he tries not to wonder too much about what state asher would be in now if they were quicker to act on his ailment. he knows thoughts like that don't do any good, but finn always finds some way to feel haunted by mistakes.

what matters most is that they survived it. they are both still alive and they are surrounded by hope, however brief it may be, of a better future. finn doesn't know what comes after this; maybe they return to etlia, build an army, and prove their strength and worth to ganggyn. maybe they gain their country back. or maybe they stay here in noyillai, and let the war rage on on the other side of the continent; let the war remain ganggyn and gleerium's and not their own. finn is torn, so maybe, after this, he'll let asher decide. somehow, at least in this moment, it feels like they have time; time to decide, and time to heal.

"sure," finn agrees. he can take it easy on asher. it's not like he expected any elaborate dance moves when asking. it just feels like the right thing to do; a small celebration in its own right, of one night of peace and asher returning to himself. "maybe, but i wanna dance with you now, so." finn can always find someone else to dance with later, if he finds asher too boring, but that's not really what it's about. he doesn't really need it to be fun, just...a moment of respite. relaxing into the good parts of their reality, if only for a little while.

"come on," he says, voice soft, and he doesn't give asher time to protest. he grabs on his hand, firm, but not too overbearing, and leads him further onto the dance floor. he's gentle where he might tug otherwise, because he knows asher is still fragile in some ways. he doesn't want to risk hurting him.

he falls into the familiar stance of the dance he taught asher last year. "we can go slow. or you can lead me, if you want, and we'll just dance at your pace."

[ufasher]

"maybe, but i wanna dance with you now, so."

asher can't help it; he didn't even know that his heart was capable of such a dramatic flip in his chest. sure, there's been moments here and there, opportunities where he's admired finn just a little too long or caught his mind wandering away from the territory of friends and companions that they've existed in thus so far. but never before has it been such a blatant, unignorable, physical sensation. he knows, consciously, that finn means nothing by it; it's a phrase that surely could be shared with friends just as much as it could with someone who's more. asher knows he's not more. somehow, almost as soon as his heart recovers from doing backflips, it manages to pain him as well.

"um—" he doesn't know what to say to that, though thankfully he doesn't have to think about it before finn isn't giving him much of a choice when it comes to dancing. i want to dance with you too, asher admits to himself. gods, is his face already flushed? he hopes, if it is, it's easily enough explained away by some other trivial reason. finn is still so gentle when he touches him, so kind as he leads him to the floor and tells him that they can do whatever asher wants.

it's stupid, isn't it? a man he barely knew he decided to follow to the ends of the earth upon first meeting. a man who has shown kindness to him only sparingly he decided was his best friend. a man who has killed him in dreams in a thousand different cruel and painful ways... wants to dance with him once, and all asher can think is how much he wants to love him. he can't, though; he knows better.

"no, it's okay," he takes a breath, trying to push down all of those unwanted emotions before they show on his face; he's never enjoyed lying. "i might have to sit down after just one song, that's all. i'm not dying anymore." he manages a smile, joking about it now that the threat is over with. i want to dance with you too, he doesn't say. he just lets finn lead, as he always has, and asher will follow.

[finnuf]

{  * opening sequence  }

this year's lotus festival feels different than the last.

maybe it's strange, that this year there is a war, but finn feels a little more at peace than he did before. he doesn't know where it comes from, exactly, but he feels less pitiful, and less hatred for himself. maybe it's an effect of being home, back in etlia, facing his failures and the people that were not nearly as angry with him as they should have been. he still doesn't know why the world has offered him so much forgiveness when he has done nothing to deserve it and everything to deserve hatred, but he's coming to terms with it slowly. it's just how it is, even if he doesn't understand. if the families of those that died for him can forgive him, maybe it's okay to forgive himself, little by little. there are still plenty he hasn't spoken to; that he never apologized to, even though he should have as soon as he had the chance to.

he's still afraid. he is not nearly as brave as etlia deserved for him to be, even now, but he is trying, and maybe that makes him better than he's ever been.

asher would probably tell him that he is brave, and honorable, and worthy of admiration finn also can't fathom. he would now, anyway; now that he's returned to himself, after weeks–– months ––of fading away without finn doing anything about it. that's another thing he's trying to forgive himself for: letting asher suffer without helping him sooner. they both should have done better there, but ultimately, it doesn't matter anymore.

asher is asher again, and the air in noyillai is fresh, even if this place, too, is stained with blood. he admires laurelia for insisting on finding ways to celebrate even in the current circumstances. he thinks he needs it. all of deyuis does, probably.

there is still an undercurrent of anxiety the night of the campus's anniversary, inside lotus hall, unable to shake the violence of last year, but people still dance, and smile, and finn feels a little hopeful. he knows tomorrow, the world will descend back into chaos, but just for tonight, there's respite; a glimpse of what the world could be like if they were all their best selves.

he watches everyone else while they dance, stood off to the side with asher beside him as well. it's comfortable: witnessing joy, however temporary it may be, and asher next to him. he's thankful that they can be here like this, and he supposes they have their own reasons to celebrate: asher still being alive. asher being asher again, even if he has new scars.

a soft smile rests comfortably on finn's face, and it stays there as he turns to asher. "we should dance," he suggests, and his smile widens a little more. "do you still remember how?"

– @ufasher

[ufasher]

in some ways, he is healed. in other's, he's still very much not.

the body is slow to recover as it is; those sleepless nights had turned his appetite into nothing, atrophied muscles (not that there was anything to brag about there to begin with), left him feeling so sick and weak that it's taken him weeks just to have the energy to stay upright for more than an hour or two. and yet, for all of the physical ailments he's still yet to recover from, it's still the mind that takes so much longer to heal.

sure, his dreams are not nearly as vivid and tortured as they had been before the priestess had worked her magic on him. he knows the difference now that he's having normal dreams again. as much as asher knows that the things he was forced to relive over and over again were just in his head, his brain still seems to fall into old patterns whenever he closes his eyes. he's no longer dying at finn's hands over and over again, but blood and darkness still color his dreams. he's getting better, sure, but it's slow progress.

maybe leaving etlia was good for him. as much as he misses home, as much as he'd like to see her restored to her former glory, asher has noticed that he sleeps dreamlessly in noyillai, most of the time. maybe it's the change of scenery, the different scent in the air. maybe his mind is learning new patterns, better ones than the terrible spirals that started almost as soon as he had returned to etlia for the first time in years.

still, even asher notices that everyone is still on edge after the horror that was last year's festival. he prays to any god that might be listening that this year will be blissfully uneventful; a much-needed respite from the war raging around the rest of the continent.

but asher can't dwell on that too long— finn disturbs his thoughts with a smile that asher can't help but return. finn didn't used to smile so easily; he can't help but think the expression looks good on him. "um," he does remember, mostly, but it's not like he's had any practice since finn taught him last year. "i think so?"

more than his memory, he's worried about his stamina. his energy is still slow to return after his ordeal, his limbs aching with such minimal effort these days. he might not be as fun of a dance partner this time. as much as he knows he shouldn't worry about such things, that finn wouldn't have asked if he didn't want to, he can't help it. "if you're okay with taking it easy for me," he admits, some old tradition of pride still finding itself a home here; asher somehow feels uncomfortable with admitting he's still weak. is he a bit too glum when he responds? he can't help it: "you might have more fun with someone else."

[ufasher]

his anxiety peaks again when the woman lays her hand on him, though asher knows that consciously she's only trying to help him. still, he can't help the panicked flutter in his chest, the way his breath catches for a moment, and the spike of adrenaline that has the wind wooshing in his ears as they begin ringing again. he breathes again, as deeply as he can, and tries to force himself not to panic, since relaxing doesn't seem to be remotely possible. asher squints his eyes closed as he squeezes finn's hand once again, braced for an impact that never comes, for some crash that never hits.

he feels... nothing at all. at least, not at first. he doesn't know what he expects; should the magic burn like molten metal in his veins? should it feel cold as ice, or like some creeping vine slithering up his body? for a moment, he feels nothing other than exactly the same, but he supposes that the pain always came in his dreams, why should he expect a sense of relief in the waking world where he was never nearly so tormented anyway? but then it hits him, and maybe her magic did need time to find its target. slowly, the anxiety begins to fade. the muscles around his eyes relax, still closed but not nearly so tightly, and his hand around finn's doesn't let go or relax fully, but some of the urgency in his fingers leaves the grip.

asher sighs and for the first time in a long time, he actually feels something release when he exhales.

unwilling to interrupt or jinx himself, he stays still and quiet, waiting for the priestess to tell him that it's safe to move. exhaustion finds him much more quickly than any further relief does, though. his weight shifts, leaning against finn more than he had been before slowly, bit by bit. and then his head drops, almost suddenly; dozed off while absorbing the spell. surely it's a good sign; surely her magic will ensure him a restful, dreamless slumber.

[ufasher]

his anxiety peaks again when the woman lays her hand on him, though asher knows that consciously she's only trying to help him. still, he can't help the panicked flutter in his chest, the way his breath catches for a moment, and the spike of adrenaline that has the wind wooshing in his ears as they begin ringing again. he breathes again, as deeply as he can, and tries to force himself not to panic, since relaxing doesn't seem to be remotely possible. asher squints his eyes closed as he squeezes finn's hand once again, braced for an impact that never comes, for some crash that never hits.

he feels... nothing at all. at least, not at first. he doesn't know what he expects; should the magic burn like molten metal in his veins? should it feel cold as ice, or like some creeping vine slithering up his body? for a moment, he feels nothing other than exactly the same, but he supposes that the pain always came in his dreams, why should he expect a sense of relief in the waking world where he was never nearly so tormented anyway? but then it hits him, and maybe her magic did need time to find its target. slowly, the anxiety begins to fade. the muscles around his eyes relax, still closed but not nearly so tightly, and his hand around finn's doesn't let go or relax fully, but some of the urgency in his fingers leaves the grip.

asher sighs and for the first time in a long time, he actually feels something release when he exhales.

unwilling to interrupt or jinx himself, he stays still and quiet, waiting for the priestess to tell him that it's safe to move. exhaustion finds him much more quickly than any further relief does, though. his weight shifts, leaning against finn more than he had been before slowly, bit by bit. and then his head drops, almost suddenly; dozed off while absorbing the spell. surely it's a good sign; surely her magic will ensure him a restful, dreamless slumber.

[ufasher]

finn's hand in his is warm. asher realizes it only then that everyone who had laid hands on him in his dreams had ice cold fingers, as if they were walking corpses come to drag him down to the underworld with them. he can't help but shiver at the thought (or more accurately, the memory—too many memories), using what little energy he has to squeeze finn's hand in response. he's real, he reminds himself, he's real, and he's kind, and he's trying to help me. he takes a deep breath, his eyes closed tight, and tries to let go of some of that fear as he exhales. if he had any energy left to do so, asher thinks that he might really like a good cry.

no one is mad at him over the spilled tea, which he supposes is more than he could have hoped for. he's been scolded for his clumsiness before, and his knuckles rapped as if punishing his hands will make them any less shaky in the future. obviously, that didn't completely cure him of being a klutz. but no one yells, instead they speak very gently around him, and asher frowns and presses his lips together tightly to keep them from trembling again.

the priestess returns with her staff and the rag as she had promised and asher suddenly grows fearful again; what if it doesn't work? what if he's beyond saving? he reminds himself that even if it turns out to be true, she might be able to at least ease his suffering in his final days. he tries to relax, as requested, but finds that despite his bones-deep tiredness, he simply can't unwind the tension built up in his neck and jaw, his whole body still on edge. she asks for questions, and finn is holding his hand again, and he glances between where their fingers touch, to the staff, and then finally to the woman's face.

"what if it doesn't work?" his voice is so small, so afraid to admit how he fears the slow, painful death that he's been staring down for the last several months.

maybe he doesn't really want to know the answer to that question; maybe he doesn't want to be confronted with his own mortality, with the fact that he might have been salvageable had he spoken up sooner. why didn't he? why did he let it get to this point, impossible for finn or anyone else to ignore, before seeking help? he doesn't know. it feels like that part of his brain has turned to nothing but mush, a blank canvas with no memories panted across the fabric. it's scary, but everything is these days.

"please just... do what you can." he sighs again, closing heavy eyes, and sending up a prayer to whoever may be listening. "please don't wait any longer."

[ufasher]

finn's hand in his is warm. asher realizes it only then that everyone who had laid hands on him in his dreams had ice cold fingers, as if they were walking corpses come to drag him down to the underworld with them. he can't help but shiver at the thought (or more accurately, the memory—too many memories), using what little energy he has to squeeze finn's hand in response. he's real, he reminds himself, he's real, and he's kind, and he's trying to help me. he takes a deep breath, his eyes closed tight, and tries to let go of some of that fear as he exhales. if he had any energy left to do so, asher thinks that he might really like a good cry.

no one is mad at him over the spilled tea, which he supposes is more than he could have hoped for. he's been scolded for his clumsiness before, and his knuckles rapped as if punishing his hands will make them any less shaky in the future. obviously, that didn't completely cure him of being a klutz. but no one yells, instead they speak very gently around him, and asher frowns and presses his lips together tightly to keep them from trembling again.

the priestess returns with her staff and the rag as she had promised and asher suddenly grows fearful again; what if it doesn't work? what if he's beyond saving? he reminds himself that even if it turns out to be true, she might be able to at least ease his suffering in his final days. he tries to relax, as requested, but finds that despite his bones-deep tiredness, he simply can't unwind the tension built up in his neck and jaw, his whole body still on edge. she asks for questions, and finn is holding his hand again, and he glances between where their fingers touch, to the staff, and then finally to the woman's face.

"what if it doesn't work?" his voice is so small, so afraid to admit how he fears the slow, painful death that he's been staring down for the last several months.

maybe he doesn't really want to know the answer to that question; maybe he doesn't want to be confronted with his own mortality, with the fact that he might have been salvageable had he spoken up sooner. why didn't he? why did he let it get to this point, impossible for finn or anyone else to ignore, before seeking help? he doesn't know. it feels like that part of his brain has turned to nothing but mush, a blank canvas with no memories panted across the fabric. it's scary, but everything is these days.

"please just... do what you can." he sighs again, closing heavy eyes, and sending up a prayer to whoever may be listening. "please don't wait any longer."

[ufasher]

CONGRATULATIONS! you have LEVELED UP!

ASHER has received an 8 STAT level up and is now LEVEL 7.

you will gain levels by being active throughout the roleplay and meeting certain requirements. these requirements are a secret, but consider every ic post as something that gains you experience and puts you one step closer to your next level up.

remember, the stats you can add have been randomized, and you must now distribute one point each across eight different stats. this means you will add one stat point to all stats but one. you must add two of those stat points to two of the strong skills listed on your application (SPEED, LUCK, CHARM)

please record this level up on the “stat tracker” page of your status page, and link this post under the “link” heading as proof of your level up. well done!

[ufasher]

terror.

finnuf​:

asher speaks, and it’s coherent, and to finn, proof that his mind, at the very least, is salvageable. asher sounds more than coherent, really; intelligent, maybe, considering the root of what ails him and asking what answers they’ll really be able to find. even finn didn’t think that far ahead, but maybe he is just a little afraid, and maybe he doesn’t want history to repeat itself. he doesn’t want to lose someone else without knowing he did everything he could, but if asher thinks he can hang on long enough for a diagnostic spell, that isn’t for finn to decide.

“it depends on your condition,” the priestess explains. “if it’s a magical ailment, sometimes i can find what it is quite quickly. if it’s an illness, it’s more difficult. as for locating the source…likely not. with some time, i can determine what type of poison or curse it is, and some types are more common in certain areas than others, but that’s as close as i’m able to get to pinpointing who or what is responsible. maybe 30 minutes, for me to gather as many details on what ails you as possible.”

is it possible that asher is actually cursed? poisoned? it’s not like asher is that important–– politically, or anything of the like. why would someone want asher dead and not finn, especially when he literally met asher because someone wanted him dead? finn would expect to suffer the same ailment as asher, but he certainly hasn’t had more nightmares than usual, nor does he have asher’s level of paranoia. 

“are there really poisons or curses that give terrible nightmares?” he asks the priest, who nods.

“any encounters with dark magic can cause nightmares if not treated quickly enough, truthfully. it can be quite hard on the psyche.”

in that case, it sounds like it might be harder to pinpoint the issue than finn thought. he looks over at asher, thankful he’s at least able to sip his tea successfully to some degree. now that he’s not about to jump out of his skin, he really does look exhausted. finn can only imagine what he’s going through right now.

“i understand it’s probably frightening, but rest assured, if you fall asleep, it won’t impact the diagnostic spell or restore spell. you are safe here,” the priest tries to assure asher. finn hopes it comes as some comfort, but he doubts it. is it possible that asher would sleep soundly just by being here? just due to whatever tea the priestess gave him? finn doubts that, too, even if he wishes otherwise.

asher doesn’t know much about magic. sure, he’s read fairytales of all sorts and books upon books about battles and the soldiers and mages who fought in them. but those were tales or tactical analyses, not instruction or true understanding of an art utterly foreign to those who do not know how to wield it. he had hoped, maybe, that some personal signature might be attached to each spell a certain caster sends out to the world, something unique and easy to trace back to the source. alas, the priestess dashes any hope that his suffering might’ve been worth something. no, there’s no point in delaying this; finding the what won’t help him understand what happened or how to avoid it. all he knows is this is no natural illness; even a man who knows almost nothing of magic can tell that much.

the woman tries to assure him that he’s safe here, and while asher might trust his physical safety in the home of a priest, he’s not entirely sure that his unconscious mind is afforded the same protections. he shakes his head, silently denying the offer to rest. “i can’t.” is all he manages to say, his tongue suddenly tied in a knot as if some unseen force is preventing him from describing his own ailment, the nightmares that torture him as soon as he closes his eyes. frustration takes the place of fear for a moment and he can’t help the way his eyes suddenly go misty, too exhausted to keep himself from crying in front of finn and a stranger.

“there’s no point,” asher finally manages, choking down any impending sobs until there’s only just the slightest shake in his voice instead. he’s had a lifetime of hiding his tears, enough practice that the effort isn’t too much for his exhausted body and spirit. “what good would knowing for certain do then? it’s not like i can counter it. it’s not like i can stop it from happening again.” god, he’s tired. in a moment when finn isn’t as attentive to the cup he’d been helping asher with, it slips from the ill man’s hands and clatters to the floor with a wet thunk. tea spills everywhere, still mostly undrunk, though he supposes he should just be happy that he didn’t shatter the vessel with his weakness. “i’m sorry,” asher apologizes to the priestess for the trouble, leaning over to grab the cup off of the ground only to find himself dizzy and feeling ill when he sits up again a little too quickly.

it takes a moment of quiet, closed eyes before he’s able to speak again, before the ringing in his ears quiets enough that he can hear the world around him. “just... please, fix me,” does he sound like he’s begging, like he’s praying before a god who has long since abandoned him? asher doesn’t mean to, though he hasn’t the energy to shield his emotions; they lay out raw, sensitive, open for all to see.

[ufasher]

CONGRATULATIONS! you have LEVELED UP!

ASHER has received a 6 STAT level up and is now LEVEL 7.

you will gain levels by being active throughout the roleplay and meeting certain requirements. these requirements are a secret, but consider every ic post as something that gains you experience and puts you one step closer to your next level up.

remember, the stats you can add have been randomized, and you must now distribute one point each across SIX different stats. this means you will add one stat point to all stats but THREE. you must add two of those stat points to two of the strong skills listed on your application (SPEED, LUCK, CHARM)

please record this level up on the “stat tracker” page of your status page, and link this post under the “link” heading as proof of your level up. well done!

[ufasher]

terror.

finnuf​:

asher leans on him, and finn figures this is better than asher being too afraid to even touch him before. he must trust him a little again, then. that comes as a relief, even if there are far more important matters at hand than asher trusting him, like asher’s survival, for one. finn doesn’t think nightmares can kill someone, but he knows lack of sleep and dehydration can, and if the nightmares are just a symptom of something deeper, who knows how much trouble asher is truly in? hopefully they’ll find out soon.

in the meantime, he can’t help but wonder what he would do if asher really did die. he would survive it; he knows. would asher become just another name on the list of everyone finn has lost, or would finn mourn a little more for him than most? maybe in the past, finn would’ve felt little. he would’ve accepted asher’s death as some inevitability of anyone getting too close to him and worked to move on, pushing that grief to the back of his mind to join all of the rest he’s never truly addressed. now, though, with some power over the situation–– with them so close to finding a solution (finn hopes) ––he desperately wants him to be okay. asher, who has always believed in him and trusted him even though finn did nothing to deserve it; who told him he would follow him anywhere, when finn mentioned returning to etlia to defend the people he abandoned once already. asher has seen him cynical and cowardly and useless and still deemed him a worthy companion.

asher is a worthy companion too; more than that, really. asher is kind and energetic and optimistic, naive but smarter than he seems, friendly to everyone he meets even when they don’t deserve it–– or at least he used to be. finn would take him even like this, he realizes; even if asher is always fearful and fragile from now on, he owes it to him to stay by his side, because he knows asher would do the same for him.

finn’s chest feels a little tight. it’s okay. she’ll help us. he’ll be okay. he tries not to consider the possibility that this is all asher will ever be again, or that he will die. not before they do everything they can here.

i’m so tired, asher says, that fear in his voice again, and finn squeezes his hand. “we’re going to fix this, and you’ll be able to sleep well soon. i’ll let you sleep for three whole days if you want,” he tries to joke, even though he probably would.

soon, the priest returns with the tea she promised, and stands there hesitantly. finn reaches his free hand out for the cup, assuming asher will be little help when it comes to holding a drink steady on his own, and she hands it over to him. “do you think you can drink some of this? i’ll help you.” he holds the tea out to asher, still holding it enough that they won’t drop it, but leaving plenty of room for asher to guide it to his lips.

he looks back at the priest then. “what next?” he questions, because he doubts tea will fix all of asher’s problems, even if it might help temporarily.

“i think the safest bet would be for me to simply cast a restore spell. it should help cure any condition that may be troubling him; illness, poison, curse, whatever it may be. depending on the severity of the condition, one spell may be enough to cure it, or it may take a few casts. if you want to take a bit more time, i can use a diagnostic spell, and see if we can put a name to what ails him.”

finn isn’t sure what the best course of action is, and he figures it’s not his decision to make, anyway. “what do you think, asher?” he asks him. “we can try to heal you right away so you can sleep as soon as possible, but you may never know what this was; or we can take a little extra time to figure out what it is first.”

“three days...” he echoes finn, his voice hardly more than the slightest murmur. will he actually be able to sleep that long, his mind peacefully empty without such painful and gruesome dreams that torment his resting hours? asher can’t imagine it right now; he can’t remember the last time he’s slept uninterrupted for three hours. but gods, if he could close his eyes right now and drift off into absolutely nothing, he would. if he never had a dream again, even the kind ones he used to have where he’d play with the sand and the waves of his homeland or dance along the galaxy, he’d be satisfied. peace, even if it’s nothing more than emptiness, would be worth it.

asher hears the gentle creak of someone hovering nearby before he opens his eyes to see the priestess standing there, watching the two men before approaching with the tea she promised. maybe he already feels a little better; maybe some sanctity of the home of a holy person has managed to put his mind at ease just a little bit. or maybe it’s just wishful thinking and the placebo effect; asher will take it either way. it’s with great effort that he manages to force his eyes open, to watch as the woman hands the tea to finn instead of the man it was brewed for, and he has the sense not to be offended by the action. he knows his hands would tremble under the weight of the cup even if it was empty, the last of his strength drained and then some from the mere journey here.

“i can drink,” he assures finn, forcing himself to sit up a little straighter, focusing closely on his own hands as they find finn’s and guide the cup to his lips. he wonders if he should be embarrassed, being fed a cup of tea like a toddler who hasn’t yet learned table manners, but asher has the sense not to hold too tightly to any shame. he’s unwell; he acknowledges it to himself. he’s sick, though there had been no physical symptom until the mental agony wore on too long. maybe he should have told finn about the dreams before. maybe they could have made it here before the situation had become so dire, like asher’s life force is an old candle stub nearing the end of the wick, the tiny flame sputtering with the effort of staying alight.

the tea tastes good on his lips, though. he can only manage tiny sips, the act of swallowing almost painful against a too-dry throat, but he manages it albeit slowly. it relaxes him further, as promised, though there’s the lingering fear that if he becomes too at ease, he’ll drift off to sleep. he doesn’t think that a few sips of tea will be much help in warding off the terrifyingly vivid dreams.

what next? finn asks, and even asher hadn’t been so eager to rush to save his own life. he find gratitude for the finn of the waking world in his heart; who would have thought that the surly and prickly man he had met so many months ago would care for his life so passionately now? asher knows that in another situation, perhaps a time when he didn’t feel death breathing down the back of his neck, the thought would make him feel rather pleased. there’s no warmth here, though; the cold stone in his gut still sucks any pleasure out of his system and instead replaces it with that lingering dread.

“how long does a diagnostic spell take?” as unwell as he is, asher’s mind is not fully dissolved into a miserable pudding. perhaps it’s a glimpse of his usual self; not the bubbly and cheerful exterior, but rather the inquisitive and sharp mind behind the smiles. “if it’s poison or a curse, could you find out... where it came from?” who it came from he almost asks; though who else would it be? as much as he just wants rest, just a moment of peace, asher knows he would be a fool to sacrifice some proof of his grandfather’s ugly, incessant hatred of him. maybe there’s not a judge in the world who would care to see it, but he’d have it for the someday, maybe. 

“that... that’s worth waiting for, to me. if not just... let me rest.” he sighs, muscles relaxing not out of relief but from pure exhaustion, unable to remain tensed for any longer.

[ufasher]

terror.

finnuf​:

asher throws up. finn doesn’t really know what to do, but he figures, at the very least, that it’s a physical indication of asher’s dire state. it only makes finn more determined to get him to the priest he has in mind. even if she can’t help his mental wellbeing, surely, if he’s throwing up, something can be done about that, right? it strangely almost makes him feel a little better about doing this.

he just puts a careful hand on asher’s back. “it’s okay,” he assures him, voice soft, because it’s not like asher can help it, and finn would never expect him to. he hesitates again, thinking, and leaves asher’s side for another moment, just to fetch his canteen, thankfully still mostly-full of water. “can you drink some water?” he asks, both a request and question of if his friend is physically capable of doing so, especially without vomiting again. “it might help, especially if you’re dehydrated.”

i’ll manage, asher says, and finn nods. they really have no choice but to believe that. finn doesn’t know what he’ll do if asher can’t. he decides not to think about it.

[ TIMESKIP ]

it doesn’t take too long to reach the doorstep of the priest finn desperately hopes will help them, but maybe it is too long. any wait at all feels too long in this moments. he knocks on the door, a little frantically, and after waiting about 15 seconds without response, pounds on it louder. “i need help, please!” he calls, hoping someone on the other side of the door will hear, and alert the priest, if she doesn’t hear it herself.

eventually, he hears something on the other side of the door, and it opens, just a crack.

“i’m sorry to disturb you this late in the night, but i have an emergency. please help us.”

the door opens a little wider to reveal a familiar face, whose eyes widen in recognition when she sees him. “lord finnian,” she mutters.

finn doesn’t argue over that not being his name anymore, and simply bows to her in greeting and gratitude. “my friend is very ill.” hopefully she can see that herself. she spares a glance at asher, and gives them a small nod.

“come inside,” she says, opening the door enough for them to slip inside, and she closes it beside her.

there are some ill and injured, on cots or bedrolls on the floor, but the priest leads them to one that’s unoccupied, up against one of the walls. “please sit,” she instructs asher. “you can as well,” she says to finn after. there’s enough room for them both to, so finn does sit beside asher.

“are you injured?” she asks asher.

“he’s not; he’s vomiting, and hasn’t slept in days. nightmares. paranoia,” finn explains quickly, and the priest nods in understanding, eyes flickering to asher once more as she observes him for a moment.

“i’m going to fix some tea that should calm you,” she informs asher. “then we can discuss what to do next.” she looks to finn afterwards. “keep him occupied.” 

finn nods, and once she disappears, out of sight, finn apprehensively reaches for asher’s hand and holds it, loosely enough so asher can pull it away if needed. “is this okay?” he murmurs to him.

it’s all asher can do to stay upright by the time they’re approaching their destination, apparently. or maybe finn has just given up on him and is finding a more comfortable place for asher to breathe his last. he doesn’t know if he’s actually dying but with the way every cell of his body screams in agony at their very existence, he’s pretty sure he’s not long for this world without some sort of medical or magical intervention. maybe both. even in his state, asher can’t help but theorize just what exactly is plaguing him. was it some slow-acting poison? something rotting away inside of him until the shell that’s left can’t survive any longer?

his thoughts are interrupted by a woman opening the door and he makes a conscious effort to focus in on her rather than let his head drift off towards space. his eyes feel funny, he realizes, but he’s aware of the fact that she recognizes finn—lord finnian. “my friend is very ill,” he says, and asher doesn’t have the strength left in him to agree aloud, simply letting the two lead him inside, sitting him down on a cot. there’s the urge to lay his head down and rest, though asher knows that won’t actually do him any good.

perhaps the physical exhaustion mixes with the mental load he’s carrying when she asks him a very simple question, asher’s tongue becomes too heavy in his mouth. finn’s there instead, explaining his symptoms, and asher finds himself grateful; he doesn’t think he even has anything to add. she says something about tea, about staying occupied, but his ears had started ringing loudly like they had before and he only caught about half of it. he just knows that she’s helping, somehow, and that’s good enough.

finn takes his hand. gently, carefully, like asher is a delicate thing that might crumble at the slightest touch. and maybe he is. but after traveling this far, after surviving several hours by his side, he finally trusts that this is the waking world. and if finn were to kill him now, asher is pretty sure he would thank him for it. “s’okay,” he mumbles. his weight shifts, leaning into finn. perhaps it’s for comfort, perhaps it’s just the effort of staying upright becoming a little too much to manage alone. maybe it’s both. he figures that he shouldn’t fall asleep right now, but he lets his heavy eyelids fall shut and leans his head against finn’s shoulder. “i’m so tired.” desperation colors his voice; one peaceful hour of sleep is all he asks for. he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get one again.

[ufasher]

terror.

finnuf​:

thankfully, asher takes finn’s hand. he had no obligation to; finn wouldn’t blame him if he refused, after what he must be suffering through, but he’s glad he does. he doesn’t know how well asher would be able to heave himself to his feet, judging by how wobbly he looks now. he looked a bit wobbly even sitting down, somehow, but standing is worse. at least he’s standing, though. finn will take that much. he lets go of asher’s hand in favor of holding onto his arm to better steady him.

is it really okay to leave everything here? “i don’t think we have much of a choice,” finn replies. he doesn’t want to take the time to pack everything up. he knows asher wouldn’t be able to help, and if finn has to carry the weight of their supplies by himself, that means he can’t offer asher the physical support he needs for them to successfully get to their destination. in this moment, that’s honestly all that really matters to finn. 

supplies can be replaced. they don’t have the most gold in the world, but they can find ways to make more, or find people that still like finn enough to offer them a temporary place to stay, maybe. they can’t replace asher, though, and for as annoying and somewhat useless asher has been the entire time finn has known him…he’s been company. support. someone that sees the good in finn that he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to see in himself, and maybe that’s a selfish reason to need someone, but maybe he does.

“you’re more vital,” finn says in response to asher this time, and he means it. “try to stand by yourself for a second,” he requests, just for a moment, so he can reach for his sword and properly equip it. that’s one thing he should have, just in case, and it’s quick, so he returns to asher’s side almost instantly, holding onto him once more.

“okay, let’s go. try to walk as fast as you can, but if it’s not fast, that’s fine. i’ll match your pace and make sure you don’t fall.” finn leads asher out of their camp, taking another moment to reassess their location and the necessary direction to travel, before he faces them toward it and starts walking, slowly first, looking over at asher to make sure he doesn’t simply pass out. finn hopes that doesn’t happen, but hopefully he’ll find some way to carry him if it does.

taking finn’s hand had been a risk enough, in asher’s fragile mind. finn taking hold of his arm to steady him might be necessary, but it makes asher’s heartbeat pick up, the sudden fear of being trapped through the touch running through his mind. he tries to take a deep breath, tries to calm down from what he knows must be irrational thoughts. it only does him very little good; instead, he just kinda lets out a shuttering breath. he doesn’t pull away, not when he thinks he might lose the strength in his legs right now, but he can’t quite relax. something might happen if he does.

asher makes his peace with the camp they’re leaving behind. he expects them to return to scraps and scuffs in the dirt as the only signs that they were ever there. starving to death in the woods would be such a terrible way to go, he can imagine. and his imagination has become quite vivid about such things these days. finn assures him that he’s more vital than anything they’re leaving behind, but asher can’t quite believe that. he knows he offers nothing to this group. company, maybe. but mostly he just takes up space and costs more to feed. maybe it would be better if finn did kill him. is there any point in living in this world?

when did his thoughts become something not truly his own? asher has always loved life. he’s always taken pleasure in the little things; the sounds of birds, the wind on his face. now every little sound, every little sensation makes him just about jump out of his skin. he knows he’s not the person he used to be; he’s barely a person at all.

finn lets go of him only for a moment and asher sees black spots in his vision and the world suddenly seems like it’s twisting this way and that. it’s all he can do to bend over in time before his gut tries to turn itself inside out. the young man lets out a terrible, hacking sound as he spits out nothing but bile. “sorry,” he gasps between retches that he can’t seem to control, “sorry—” is he crying again? he can’t tell.

they need to go. finn needs to take him somewhere, to someone who can help, and asher can only think about how truly pathetic he’s become. you should kill me, he almost says aloud, some tiny piece of his original self being the only thing that holds his tongue back. no, he needs to find the strength to walk, at least for a little while. if the journey kills him, at least he died trying to get better. asher spits, trying to clear out the foul taste in his mouth. he forces himself upright again, wiping at his face as if that’ll make him look any less like an ill man. “let’s just... go,” he croaks, voice hoarse. “i’ll manage.”

[ufasher]

terror.

finnuf​:

it doesn’t always stop you anyway, asher says, and finn’s heart sinks even further. how much has some twisted version of him tormented asher in his dreams? his friend speaks of it from experience; too much experience, from the sound of it.

they have to fix this. they have to at least try.

asher doesn’t seem to believe him at first, and finn supposes he can’t blame him. it is a little insane, certainly even moreso to someone struggling so deeply with an unfathomable and bizarre problem. he watches asher’s face as he slowly processes finn’s offer, and he waits patiently. when asher repeats finn’s words, he nods. it is late in the night, but surely, anyone treating the injured and unwell needs someone to keep watch at night, right? surely, if he knocks on the door, someone will greet him and not turn them away. they have to. he doesn’t know what will happen if they don’t. he doesn’t want to know.

asher asks how far, and finn is quiet for a moment, thinking of the route they’ll need to take to get there. there are no warp pads to help them reach their destination, but he can picture the way they need to go. “i’m not sure exactly,” he admits. “i know where it is, but i don’t know the distance or how long it will take to get there exactly. it’s in etlia, though. an old friend that helped me a lot, when lucinier territory still existed. if she can’t help us herself, hopefully she can tell us where else to go.”

he hopes the solution will be simple. a potion, maybe, or a mere restore spell to cure any poison or illness that may be the root cause of the nightmares. surely it can be simple. he prays, quietly, to the gods; a quick apology for not serving them well, followed by a request for them to cure his friend. surely daldona in particular will grant them that grace, won’t she?

asher agrees to try, and that’s really all finn can ask for, regardless of what exactly he means by the words. he feels relieved, and hopeful, and a little desperate on asher’s behalf. the situation is far more dire than he imagined, after all, and he can’t help but feel terribly worried. two nights without sleep. no wonder asher seems so delirious and inconsolable. two nights without sleep could do that to anyone, let alone someone kept awake by nightmares.

asher apologizes, and finn shakes his head in the darkness, even if asher may not be able to see him clearly. “you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he assures him, because finn knows, for as much as he hates this, it must be leagues worse for asher. he doesn’t need guilt on top of all of his fear and exhaustion and anxiety. sure, finn would’ve preferred if he slept opposed to ending up in this state, but he understands what led them to this position and he’s not about to fuss over something they can’t change when far more important matters are at hand.

finn collects himself, then rises to his feet. he looks around their camp for the night, making a mental note of what belongings he’ll need to take with him, before turning back to asher and holding a hand out for him. “let’s only take what’s vital with us. no need to weigh ourselves down with too much, and hopefully we’ll be able to return quickly and sleep a little before there’s too much daylight.”

it’s in etlia. asher supposes there’s some relief in that alone. mostly, he just worries if he can make it to wherever it is that finn thinks he needs to go. his limbs feel like lead and his head aches something terrible. but what other choice does he really have? “okay,” he agrees again, and tries to believe that an old friend of finn’s will truly have his best interests at heart. he tries to remind himself of the finn he decided to follow; he was never exactly noble or gentle, but he wasn’t cruel. if asher can trust that he’s truly awake right now, he can trust that the finn before him will not be cruel either.

you don’t have anything to be sorry for, the other man assures him and asher has to struggle to bite back the urge to burst into tears. it’s the kindness, the reassurance that finn really didn’t have any obligation to give him. with his dreams so tortured by nights of pain and death, the littlest act of kindness makes him want to burst at the seams. he physically trembles with the effort of choking back his tears, knowing that not only would they do him more good, but they’d only exhaust him further. he needs whatever strength he has left to make it to whoever it is who finn thinks can help.

finn is the first to rise, which makes sense considering he’s the only one who knows where they’re going. something about leaving camp makes asher uneasy, but he knows better than to trust his own instincts right now. the worst that could happen is he actually dies this time, and maybe that wouldn’t be so bad after all. it’d mean his grandfather would finally get what he wanted. but asher shakes his head, trying to clear the image from his mind. he takes his knife from under his pillow; he knows he’s not much good with it, but it still brings him a little comfort to know he has it.

there’s some hesitation, but he accepts finn’s hand to get to his feet as well. he feels quite unstable, like his knees have turned to gelatin, but despite a slight sway as he rises he manages to stay upright. “is it really okay to leave everything here?” asher thinks of all the things that could go wrong in their absence; bandits or wild animals ransack the camp, their supplies ruined or stolen. the wind could sweep their bedrolls away. he fights the urge to apologize again, knowing that it’s his fault if anything happens to their few and precious possessions. but asher doesn’t have the ability to pack up the entire camp right now, and finn seems to know it. “everything is vital,” he murmurs, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. 

[ufasher]

terror.

finnuf​:

finn watches asher’s terror in the dark and feels his heart somewhere in his throat. then asher, broken and scared, asks if he’s awake, and if this is real, and that’s how finn knows it really must be nightmares. 

“yeah, this is real, you’re awake,” finn tries to assure him, though he suspects it’ll do little.

you’re going to kill me, aren’t you? asher asks him, voice shaking, entire body shaking in fear, and finn doesn’t know why he suddenly feels like crying. maybe it’s for this sudden lack of trust; more likely, it’s because this isn’t the asher he knows, and finn is afraid for him. what if that asher is gone forever, replaced by this bundle of nerves, like a fearful dog that suffered through years of abuse?

it must be sort of like that, except finn doesn’t know how long this has been going on, and it’s because of him. well…not really, but some mirage of him has done terrible things to asher in his dreams, and it makes finn sick to his stomach. he doesn’t want to hurt asher, in life or in sleep. how much suffering must he be responsible for when he never meant to cause any? how many people has he hurt just by existing?

“i’m not going to kill you. if i hurt you, you can kill me yourself, remember? i mean that,” finn tries again, but he doubts this will help, either. the finn of asher’s dreams probably tells him that and kills him anyway, right? 

how does he fix this? is there any way to bring his asher back? he misses him, finn realizes, and he hopes it’s not too late. he should’ve mentioned something sooner. how did he not do something before now? how did he let it get this bad? will asher soon become another name on the long list of people lost due to finn’s failures? surely; surely he learned better after the war. surely he can do something to save someone.

but what does he do? is there some sort of magic that can ease anxiety, or let asher have a restful slumber, if only for one night? maybe his sister would know, but she is in noyillai, and he doubts lotus academy would be pleased with him stopping by and waking her, if he can even manage to get asher that far.

he isn’t entirely sure how much etlia has changed in his time away, but hopefully, some things stayed the same. he knows some other people that might know–– mages, priests. he heard from his sister that one of the lucinier priests that saved him from the battlefield set up her own small infirmary following the fall of their country. maybe she’d be angry to see him again, considering the way he ran from her help, but she is a kind woman. surely she won’t turn asher away, at least, even if finn would fully deserve her ire.

i don’t want it to hurt again. god, finn is so sad. he doesn’t want to see asher like this. it hurts just to see; he can’t imagine the amount of pain asher must be in living like this.

“i’m not going to let anyone hurt you again. or…i’m going to do everything i can.” finn knows better than to make lofty promises. he tries to recall…when he was a child and had many nightmares, didn’t one of the priests told him a way to know if he was dreaming or not? he forgot it back then and he forgets it now.

“i have an idea,” he begins regardless, voice still gentle. “i’m going to bring you to someone that may be able to help. right now, if you think you can come with me. i don’t know what i’ve done to you in your dreams, and i know it must be scary, but,” he holds his hands out to asher, palms still open and upturned. “trust me just one more time, okay? we’re going to find a way to fix this.”

how many times must finn promise his safety before asher will believe it? it’s easier to trust in the daylight, when the sun burns his eyes and he’s so damn tired there’s no doubt that he’s forced himself awake. no matter how much it hurts in his dreams, at least he never feels exhaustion in them. it dawns on him how exhausted he is right now— is that a sign? is this truly the waking world? asher wishes he had a mirror; his reflection always seemed wrong somehow in his dreams.

“i don’t want to kill you,” he doesn’t move yet, doesn’t quite trust if this is the real finn or just another nightmarish figment of the mind. “it doesn’t always stop you anyway.” the dream world is something out of storybooks; the dead walk steadily on toward their mission, their cold, rotten hands dragging asher down to join their ranks. he grips his own forearms and huddles himself up just a little bit tighter, protecting himself from some unseen thing. he swears he still feels finn’s cold, dead hands dragging him to his demise.

the finn in front of him now swears that nothing will hurt him, promises to protect him from everything possible, and as much as asher wants nothing more than to believe him, he’s too scared. the real finn, if it’s the same as the man he’s facing, never did anything wrong. he’s always kept his word to asher, even if sometimes it felt begrudging. asher stares at the other man through the darkness, eyes straining as if to find something there, some kindness that’s too real to be fabricated or some twitch of a brow or tug of a lip that gives away his true intentions. he can barely make out finn’s features at all let alone read them so closely.

“what?” he’s slow to understand anything that’s not pain and violence, his over-exhausted mind working overtime just to keep his system functioning somewhat normally. someone can help? what could anyone do to prevent the tortures that have no source but asher’s own mind? but then again, what does he have to lose? “right now?” he echoes, thinking about how they’ll have to break camp and gather their things if they’re going anywhere. can he physically make it? the thought alone makes him realize he must be awake right now; he wouldn’t feel so terrible while still unscathed otherwise. “how far?” he wonders aloud; how far can he really make it? as much as he wants to trust this finn, he doesn’t want to let him drag him across etlia to some unknown place or person that might not even help. the journey alone could very well kill asher.

“can they really fix this?” his tired eyes well with tears. he hadn’t realized he lost something, if only for a moment, until it returned to him: hope. asher was ready to give up a moment ago. he craved death, certain it was the only cure for his condition. but if there’s another way... surely he has to at least try. “i’ll... try,” he agrees, to trust or to travel he doesn’t specify. “it’s been two nights since i slept, i think,” two nights of (relative) peace, “i’m sorry.” as if his own pain is something burdensome to finn.