Aspel Cassul: When in doubt, Aspel! (weaponry) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-11-26 22:09:00 |
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They had agreed to go out. Even with the minor illness pangs still lingering, Aspel had… Missed a certain Bard’s presence in her life. Between the full days at work, training with the Squires, and then coming home and attempting to get some other things done, she’d mostly been collapsing into bed as soon as possible. Even with the medication, this thing was eating away at her time and energy quite terribly. Unfortunately, it was eating away at even more than that; her focus had started going, a slight dizziness picking at the back of her head combined with a weakness in her limbs and a low intensity, throbbing headache. But she had promised. Even if Mag might be a worrisome mother hen, Aspel had assured the other woman everything would be fine. That the White Mages could take care of it, that it was nothing more than some minor illness that would pass with a few days of lightened workload. The cough would vanish, the sneezing would stop, the congestion would fade with the aches, pains and - Aspel would argue it was just the time of year - feeling cold. Or at least that was what Aspel had kept telling herself, over and over again. This wouldn’t last long, it couldn’t. It was unfortunate that the smith was desperately wrong. Though, tonight she’d go out with Ari, they’d have a good time, they’d enjoy themsleves and perhaps the Bard could assist with warming her up just a bit. A minor cough was no reason to not climb into bed together, right? However, maybe steering clear of some activities might be a better idea in the end. The thought was endlessly frustrating though. How long had they been trying? How long had they waited? Aspel’s face had screwed up in a rather displeased scowl as she leaned against the counter down in the front part of The Armory, arms crossed loosely under her chest as her mind had carried on in passive thought. Only when a rapping against the wood of the front door stirred her from her thoughts did the smith try to put it all behind her. As the smith crossed the room and unlocked the door only one thought managed to linger. Now wasn’t the time for such foolishness, now, was time for Ari. On the other side of the door, wrapped in her brightly colored cloak, Ari was feeling rather hopeful about the evening. Her life had been a bit hectic recently, but work -- of both varieties -- was going well and now that she no longer had to focus all of her free time and attention on Miles’ project, she could take an evening to enjoy herself and see Aspel, who had been rather scarce recently, when she wasn’t injured (and while Ari would not admit that she missed the other woman -- exactly -- she was certainly glad that they had managed to have some of their free time line up at last). And so there was a smile on her face, though it faded a bit as the door opened. Aspel, despite her pleasant expression, looked… well, worn down, certainly, and generally weary. A little red around the eyes and nose, too, which didn’t bode particularly well, either. A cold? There were five choristers out already with the flu or somesuch, they’d been told. Ari wasn’t particularly concerned about it -- she was never sick -- but from the look of it, Aspel was not quite so lucky. It took everything she had not to sigh. Was some mythical higher power against them, after all? Was it really necessary for broken bones and lacerations to be replaced with something else upon healing? “Don’t tell me you’ve got the flu and still agreed to come out?” she asked, once greetings had been exchanged. “Not the flu,” Aspel attempted to reassure while offering a sheepish smile. It was a vague attempt to smooth over whatever ruffled feathers may arise. “A slight cold I believe.” Even if it was beginning to feel a bit worse than that. The blasted thing had stuck around for nearly a week at this point even with medicine, soup, extra rest, and increased fluids. “It should not impede upon our plans this eve.” It was the best she could offer. Really, aside from the slight frustrations, the smith had really been fine. Though, admittedly, seeing Ari certainly did help to make her feel even a bit better than that. Strange how the bard seemed to have that effect on…… “Shall we?” The question was simple. It would be up to Ari if they would actually engage in their plans for the evening or not, but either way, it would make sense for them still at at least do something that night. Faram, they’d barely been able to see each other since that blasted fiasco at Vivi’s birthday ball and… Oh. The world felt like it spun and something felt a bit shaky within her. However, Aspel wrote it off, taking only a pause in her step to reorient herself. Surely, she’d get past whatever it was, just like she’d gotten past everything else until this point. It shouldn’t be any burden at all. “Unless you would wish otherwise. If that were the case we can take part in whichever plan you would like best.” A soft smile rose, as a hand was offered out to the other woman to take if she so desired. “If you say so,” Ari said, and decided to leave it there. Aspel had a tendency to underestimate her injuries, but it was just a cold after all, wasn’t it? She wasn’t limping or wearing a splint any longer, so it was already a great deal better than several states in which Ari had seen her just last week. Even so, she said, “Maybe we’ll make it an early night, hmm?” But they could go out for a little while at least -- cold or not, Aspel had to eat, didn’t she? “I’m sure we can find some way to amuse ourselves upon our return to your apartment, even if it is not yet the wee hours of the morning.” A way which would probably involve Aspel collapsing into sleep, but, well. One couldn’t have everything. And so she took the other woman’s hand when it was offered and began to walk, though she couldn’t help but notice that their pace was slower than normal. Already, she was kissing her plans for the night good-bye. But she didn’t even give thought to excusing herself; she was accustomed at this point to going chastely to sleep, and somehow, Aspel’s company hadn’t lost its appeal despite this unfortunate tendency their lives seemed to have to get in their way. “So,” she said, “aside from your cold, your recovery from recent adventures in the snow, and my certainty that you have been overworking yourself, how have you been?” "As you wish." The response was naturally automatic, easy. Perhaps, it was one of the most natural comebacks Aspel had at this point. Well, aside from a couple other standard catchphrases that was, but really there was no need to get into that at this point. Ari did seem the terribly understanding sort, even with her seemingly endless commentary about her patience still hanging in a point that the smith had really yet to witness. "Tired, mostly." The words felt a bit uncomfortably awkward in her mouth, even as Aspel spoke them, and her smile reflected as much. While she had become more accustomed to being honest with the bard it still seemed... Strange to be laid this bare with anyone who wasn't Mag but... Maybe that was part of the game because... This was a game they were playing, was it not? Was Aspel perhaps the only one who may... "And yourself?" The former thought was left to die with the words coming out of her mouth. She could let Ari talk, Ari was quite skilled in that and maybe if Aspel just focused on the other woman's words then... Then maybe her own mind would stop leaving her feeling like she was constantly gasping for air, and barely keeping her head above the water. “You may note,” Ari said, “that my surprised face looks a great deal like my unsurprised face. Ought I perhaps to endeavor to spend more nights in your bed in an attempt to ensure you sleep?” Not that this wouldn’t have the potential for other benefits, too… Really, the idea had merit whichever way she considered it. “I’ve been preparing for my gala performance as well as a few side jobs,” she answered. “Nothing terribly exciting, I’m afraid,” minus a rather sizable heist, but some things weren’t to be mentioned, of course. “I do think a good time will be had by all at the show itself. I hope you’ve reserved your ticket?” She grinned. “When else are you going to see me decked out like an octogenarian, after all? It is not quite the dishtowel skirt of the warrior queen, but it’s nearly as good, I’m certain you’ll agree.” She paused before suggesting, “You could always get a full table, ask Drake, Mag, Kiernan, and so on. Make a night of it. Thinking of that, I’m almost jealous I’ll be up on the stage instead of the audience.” It was getting harder to concentrate on the talking… And the walking… And just making sure the world stayed in focus in general. Of course though it would pass. The White Mage had given her medicine and shooed her off to rest and whatnot, there hadn’t been any drastic considerations or worries to be mentioned so… It was a basic cold, and she’d been working too hard. Really, it was simple and this silly lightheadedness would be a phase, probably due to the change in temperature from moving outside after being placed indoors all day. Though what she did catch earned a light chuckle. “Perhaps you sleeping with me could be a cure for many ailments.” And quite frankly, Aspel would leave that one open for interpretation. It’d certainly yield much more entertaining results that way. Otherwise a faint murmur would be given, more of an acknowledgement of hearing the bard than actual thought as she continued to carry on. A slight haze had begun to seep in around her vision, and Aspel blinked a few times, attempting to clear such problem from her eyes. This didn’t make a bit of sense. The words from Ari however didn’t seem to be holding her focus, and the dizziness had steady increased in severity. Yet, somehow, she still managed to keep on her feet. “Mm, a table. I shall... ask Mag.” The words were terribly absent, almost like the smith’s attention had moved somewhere else entirely, and quite frankly, it had. While the weather had been changing due the winter months being upon them… Was it really this cold? Had she ever reacted this badly to a temperature change before? Certainly, if she could just make it where they had agreed upon going and sit, this all would clear out in a matter of minutes at most. It was just a matter of getting there. “I shall have to try it and see,” Ari said, though she had to wonder if the world might not try to end next if she took it upon herself to do so. Their luck really was that poor. For tonight, at least, she didn’t doubt she’d be tucking Aspel into bed long before she herself was tired… Their pace had slowed further as they walked, she realized. And Aspel’s voice was a bit absent, as though she wasn’t really paying attention to what Ari said at all, which was exceedingly strange; the other woman had heretofore always shown an interest in her chatter, even when it was particularly inane, which tonight it actually wasn’t. “Are you all right?” This was asked with some concern -- had that been a shiver just now? It was not that cold this evening. And now that she was really paying attention, Aspel seemed a bit pale, and her eyes were strangely unfocused, considering she was still placing one foot in front of the other. “Mm.” Even though it was a simple noise, it was one Aspel normally did with some force, enough for those around her to easily hear it. Tonight, that was not the case. It come out low, like barely any air at all was put behind it. Additionally, her eyes blurred again. Faram. This was starting to seem more, and more troublesome after all. Though, really, the place wasn’t that far away. Perhaps she just hadn’t eaten enough today. A good meal and… The grasp she’d had on the other woman’s hand loosened, to the point of falling away if Ari chose not to hold on. If she could just get to the place they were going.... A slight shake of her head would be given, as she struggled to maintain her visions, and the murmur of the word ‘fine’ on her lips. With the next step, Aspel’s legs crumpled from under her, and the last thing she’d catch was the ground rapidly coming at her before the world went black. By the time the white mage had retreated, leaving Ari alone with Aspel, who was still unconscious on the narrow bed (he had tried to argue that she might consider leaving to escape the potential for contagion; he had not won that argument), Ari was, at the very least, somewhat composed. There had been worry, then outright panic in the street; then, later when she had found someone to help carry the smith to the nearest clinic and was beginning to calm (overwork, remnants of injuries received the week prior, it could be anything), there had been the white mage, and his claims, and… Well, she’d splashed a great deal of cold water on her face in the tiny bathroom, and told herself sternly to get herself together and no one could see the lump in her throat, even if she felt… She didn’t exactly know how she felt. It had been shock that had kept her from correcting the white mage’s hilarious misconception about her relationship to Aspel; when he had told her to make sure she stays in bed and takes this every four hours so that her symptoms don’t worsen, she had only nodded numbly. But she was not stupid, for all that she had little medical training -- she could decipher the meaning behind the subsequent claim that there is no viable cure yet, but we’re hopeful. At about that point, she had blurted out, are you trying to tell me she is going to die? and the doctor had given her a pitying, wearied look and answered only, Let us all hope it does not get that far. It had not, in the end, been a very comforting answer. So now she sat at the edge of the hard, uncomfortable chair trying simultaneously not to feel and to figure out exactly what she felt, aside from distress and concern and fear. There was a slight shift, which was accompanied by a rather pained, and telling groan. The feeling of bedsheets, and laying down struck her at once…. Where was she? What had happened? Had she been hit by something? Being run over by a hovercar seemed like it might be an appropriate diagnosis in this instance if the smith were honest. Quite frankly, if the White Mage came back with that, the only thing she’d be able to offer would be a grunt of consent. Though… Why didn’t she remember anything? Ari would have to… Wait…. Was Ari okay? “Ari,” Aspel’s voice half croaked, half remained steady as she began to move, attempting to sit up in the bed but still feeling as though any movement might just be the end of her at this rate. Ari was out of her seat in a heartbeat, one hand on Aspel’s shoulder, gently but firmly pressing down, hoping that would be enough for the other woman to stay put. The mage had said for her to rest, hadn’t he? She had to swallow around that damnable lump in her throat before she could speak, even if she didn’t know what to say. How do these things always happen to you and why don’t you ever take care of yourself and this isn’t fair and you aren’t allowed to -- And none of those thoughts were at all useful, in the end. Neither were the tears she almost wanted to shed. “You scared me,” she said instead. “Though I can’t imagine why, considering how often I seem to find you in clinics.” The levity felt hollow, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. “My apologies.” The response was instant, though the relief at seeing Ari there, standing, and seemingly okay was obvious in the same instance. The hand at her shoulder wasn’t fought against, but it did take a moment of looking over the other woman before the smith would seem calmed enough to lay back once again. It took a second, her mental facilities obviously slowed before Aspel’s gaze rose, trying to catch Ari’s with a naked confusion streaking across her face. “A clinic?” The smith couldn’t help but blink, seemingly utterly baffled by this current development. “Why are we here?” Aspel’s shoulders settled into the bed a bit more, relaxing a bit, though the confusion wasn’t abating. Clearly, something had had to happen, but…. For the life of her, Aspel couldn’t recall what. The confusion was probably her undoing; she bit her lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. No, of all things, she wasn’t going to be the one delivering this news, was she? Where was the damned white mage when she actually needed him? She even cast her glance about, but he wasn’t in sight, and there was no one in the hall outside the narrow door. She turned back to Aspel. The question had been asked, it needed some sort of answer, and she was apparently the only one available to give it. “You collapsed,” she finally said. It was woefully insufficient. Damn it, where was that mage? “You didn’t know you were sick?” she blurted out. Even if Aspel’s dazed, and confused state it seemed…. Obvious, that something was going on and that it was… Something wrong. Perhaps desperately wrong, but what could possibly be so bad that Ari was… So off? This didn’t make a bit of sense. “Was I hit by something?” The question was woefully ignorant at best. Perhaps, almost stupid sounding at worse. Though, the sudden blurting out of a question from Ari caused Aspel to give pause. What was going on here? A mild noise of discomfort slipped out as the smith attempted to shift, her brow furrowing as eyes narrowed, trying to figure out what was going on. “The medic I saw the week prior told me I had a cold, yes.” It took a second, but slowly, her gaze rose, wondering just what precisely was going on here. “I told you that.” Why was Ari asking this? All Aspel could do was turn her look of confusion, which was beginning to mix with worry back on the other woman now. What was going on here? “But you didn’t tell me that -- ” There was that lump in her throat again. She couldn’t. She just couldn’t. “I need to use the restroom,” she lied and made a rapid and cowardly retreat out the door. She passed the mage in the hallway -- now he was around, of course he was -- as she fled. She spent the next ten minutes in the bathroom, once again splashing her face with cold water and trying to pretend that there weren’t a few hot tears mixed in. What was this ridiculous situation? Was this the Lady with Camellias? For Faram’s sake, this wasn’t some tragedy. That wasn’t her life at all. Maybe the mage had been wrong. Surely the mage had been wrong. If she could just make herself believe that he’d been wrong… But he had looked so serious, and Aspel had been so pale…………… It took awhile to regain her composure a second time. She gathered it like metaphorical shards and drew it around her somehow, though it felt a poor and unconvincing fit. But she couldn’t go in there with tears on her face or accusations -- for the mage -- on her lips. Aspel had bigger problems (and since when, exactly, was she so worried about others’ bigger problems, anyway?). Her steps were slow as she made her way back to the room. The mage was in there, she noted as she stopped, uncertain, in the doorway. She didn’t even know anymore if that was good or not. A hand reached after Ari, but ultimately missed. What was going on here? Though, in the instant that the bard was gone, in the seconds that ticked by as Aspel tried to think, tried to process what was happening here, before she could move out of the bed, but after she’d already decided to go after the other woman, the mage came through the door. The words next spoken would feel as though reality was blurred, like this was some sort of joke, some sort of…. Alternative reality, where everything was wrong and not a single thing was true. However… The way Ari had acted, the way the mage spoke in hushed, and careful tones, how she… Felt. There was a disconnection, a stepping outside of, and away from herself, a hollowing out of her emotions, and pain. The emotional wound lingered, festered to some degree but… It wasn’t so bad. It was just… There. ‘How long? How sick am I? Will I infect’ her ‘others?.’ They were all answered. in vague words and subtle pauses. Even with the mage trying to pad it, trying to take away the severity of the blow, Aspel still recognized the talk, realized what it meant. Recalled when she, herself, had used similar turns of phrase and expressions on dying companions in the past. The haunting in the eyes of a person who was to watch another die would never be mistaken. It was one she knew quite well. Well, that was what she got, wasn’t it? For all her sins, for all her troubles, and strain she’d caused over the years. Finally, Aspel would pay. Yet…. How was this fair? The smith had been struggling for so long to repent, to do well, to do right, and even when she fell, she still did it in the name of protection, of peace of…. It couldn’t be. ‘Are you certain?’ Yes. Of course the mage was, but… If she had a little more time, if…. Aspel could make this right, she could, she’d just need…. The mage had become silent, and the smith’s eyes had fallen to her hands, which rested in her lap as she sat on the edge of the bed, only the balls of her feet touching the ground. How could she possibly feel so small? “Do you understand?” “Yes.” When footsteps registered, Aspel’s eyes lifted while her face remained angled downwards. Eyes would linger over the bard for a moment before clearing her throat. A deep breath was slowly inhaled. “My apologies.” With the two words, the smith’s eyes fell to the floor. “You would be best served to leave now. They are….” Aspel’s words trailed off, her posture drooping slightly, eyes refusing to rise, refusing to even look upon the bard once again as her chest tightened despite herself. “Uncertain of potential external effects.” If anything could shake her faith in Faram, this bordered painfully close. “I…” The mage turned to look at her too, and Ari had to look down. Her expression was likely not a good one; she was far past controlling it. Again, there were so many things she could have said. The mage said someone should take care of you, or maybe, you don’t really mean that. Porrisbly, why are you apologizing now? She had no idea what would come out of her mouth, but she opened it anyway, managed to form words. “I’m already here,” she pointed out, her voice soft. Her hands were clasped in front of her, knuckles white. “I never get sick.” The white mage was still looking at her and she felt suddenly like a stranger. It was not a very good feeling. Actually, none of her feelings were very good at present. The thought of leaving almost appealed. But… “If you want me to go,” she said, “I’ll go.” Aspel's gaze never rose, never looked up at the other woman, but the tone of Ari's voice, the softness to it seemed to say everything that the bard needed. The smith's eyes shut tightly, her jaw locking as some vain attempt was made to not hurt, to not believe that even through her emotional removal that Ari could impact her in the ways the other woman had proven so adept at time and again before. "I do not wish for you to die." They were first words to fall from Aspel's mouth in a deeply forlorn tone. It seemed, for an instance as hands gripped tightly at the edge of the bed - to the point of turning her knuckles white - that perhaps she may fight the situation at hand, that she might in fact try to stand up against the other woman, to tell Ari that she needed to leave, and that she must go on without a second thought, that.... But no. Even through the shock of her own impending death, through the horror that flitted through her mind of Faram, and her own lost redemption, all that still remained was the soft speech of a bard. A bard for who, for all she could wish, remained at the forefront of her thoughts with eyes squeezed tightly closed and her jaw tense. Ari had not to be sick. “I’m not going to die,” Ari said. She managed to inject some firmness into her voice, even, though it was hard. And since she had not been told to go, it seemed the best viable option was to stay; she took one slow, hesitant step into the room, then another, and another until she stood at the edge of the bed. She set her own jaw -- she could be stubborn, too -- and added, “And neither are you.” The mage, apparently, had decided to give them a moment; with a few words regarding a follow-up examination in two hours, he slipped out of the room. Ari remained standing by the bed, almost close enough to touch but not quite, her words exhausted for the moment. She had said it, and she was going to believe it -- the mages or someone would fix this -- but there was nothing else to add to those words, at least for now. “You’re supposed to rest,” she said, trying for her normal tone. “And eat, since we’ve missed dinner. Shall I go get you something?” Some fresh air might do her good, and Aspel might be sick -- for now, she had to believe it was only for now -- but she wasn’t going anywhere for at least an hour. Ari wouldn’t put it past her to slip away otherwise, but it seemed she had decided that she was having none of that. Aspel's gaze remained lowered, and eyes closed as her shoulders drooped. "You do not know that." In fact none of them did. Realistically, the Mage who had delivered the news didn't even know anything for certain, but the fact that there seemed to be no cure was troublesome enough. It wasn't as if Emillion's clinics weren't some of the top in all of Ivalice. Though, in some strange fashion, hadn't the smith always expected this? Her life was no comedy, it had always seemed a tragedy at best. So... Wouldn't this end be fitting after all? Undoubtedly, after the sins shed placed upon her own soul, there was no better to be expected. "I believe I shall pass," A hesitant pause won out for a moment. A defeated consideration being given to the circumstance that they now found themselves in. "if you desire to obtain dinner, I encourage you to go." It was the best Aspel had even though she knew Ari would never agree. However, despite herself, and despite their current situation the shock continued to leave the smith feeling hollow, and lost inside. How had this happened? How.... Where.... |