Aspel Cassul: When in doubt, Aspel! (weaponry) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-01-28 11:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, aspel cassul, magnolia paget |
Play the tape back, take apart, Just what happened in your heart...
Who: Aspel & Mag
What: A talk.
Where: Mag’s Apartment
When: BACKDATED: Dec 6th
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
Something was wrong inside of her. Now if poked or prodded for what precisely that thing was, for what continued to churn her stomach when Aspel was left to wallow in her own thoughts, or what left a weight on her chest so heavy that it made life hard to cope with from each minute to the next… The smith would not be able to give a proper answer for the life of her. Yet, it was without doubt that something weighed her down, that something had been built deep within her, and that something was fractured, troubled, crumbling. There was an unknown struggle that Aspel could not place, could not name, or even begin to look for a possible pathway to resolve as she was completely uncertain where she was supposed to begin with all of this at all. Yet, was she not used to struggling? With Mag back, things with Ari seeming to have flowed into a steady state, the concerns about Drake simply shoved to the side, her relationship with Rictor seemingly mending, Vivi having accepted her, and so many other parts working smoothly into place, why was this arising now? Had the illness warped not only her health, but her emotions and insides somehow as well? Had it left her so shaken of her own mortality that something as simple as actually living now left the smith in emotional shambles? Could it have been the fact that other risked themselves to save those dying around them? Had she become so complacent with the idea of her own potentially inevitable death that the idea of being allowed the mercy of life left her without clue how to continue to live? Could it be…. What in Faram’s name was wrong with her? How had she gotten this far? Even if Aspel did not speak, it was obvious to Mag that her mind was in overdrive. Six years of friendship had bestowed that gift of insight upon both of them. Something was troubling Aspel; the only question was whether to prod, or allow the other woman to voice her thoughts in due time if she wished to. Never much of a question at all, in the end. Knowing something was wrong with her best friend, and doing nothing about it, went against Mag's nature. Perhaps Aspel did not want to talk about it, but those six years had given birth also to a mutual understanding that either of them could call an end to an unwanted conversation and no offense would be taken. She placed the tray on the coffee table and handed one of the cups to Aspel. For once, she had managed not to scald the leaves, or let the tea oversteep. Perhaps the stars had alligned. "A cup of tea for your thoughts?" she said. Head raised at the question, and it took a moment for the words to fully sink in before Aspel gave a nod, and reached out to accept the offered cup. Placing the bottom of it against her leg, but not fully allowing it to settle, one hand cupped the side of it, fingers slipped through the handle in order to assure her grip. Just what were her thoughts? It was hard to tell, there was such a mass of… Mess… In her head that pulling each individual thought out of the chaotic shamblings felt a neigh impossible task overall. “I…” Brows furrowed, her tone a bit reserved, and her features tight with thought. “Do not know.” A swallow would follow the words, and Aspel would shift in her seat, attempting to - unconsciously - settle herself in for a longer overarching talk. “It is no one thing I fear.” Finally, a glance was ventured up to Mag, an apologetic smile crossing her lips. “I am certain that does not help.” In spite of herself, Mag chuckled. “Well, it’s not terribly helpful, no, but it’s something.” It was a start. Such conversations with Aspel always began in this manner, both of them trying to give shape to what the root of Aspel’s worries was, even when Aspel herself didn’t know. Mag sat down and took her own cup of tea in her hands. As she often did, she would wait for her friend to drink first, to know when the tea had cooled down enough that she wouldn’t burn the skin off the roof of her mouth. “If it isn’t one thing you fear,” she prodded gently, “is it a number of different things?” A low huff of breath is offered, Aspel shifting in her seat, fingers shifting to better wrap around the mug for the warmth it offered. “Perhaps fear is not correct.” Eyebrows would knit as she considered the situation, her feelings, the frustration, she felt, the confusion, the…. Well, she didn’t really know what it was. “I suspect I am… Upset?” It wasn’t particularly helpful, but it was a step. “I do not understand why I am here.” Really, Aspel had resigned herself to death. It was hard to cope with life when one no longer expected that it was something they would longer have. “Upset, then,” Mag corrected herself. “Is it a number of different things that have upset you?” The next question was like a fist closing around her heart. There were a number of ways she could have tried to lighten the mood—well, you’re here because I invited you over or at your age you’re already having memory problems?—but a joke wouldn’t cut it. And she didn’t want to make light of this question. Not this. She reached out to place her hand on Aspel’s and said, “You’re here because I’m here. And I’m not about to let you die that easily. It’s as simple as that.” “I believe so.” The words were barely murmured. What could she say had upset her? The fact that she was still alive? The fact that the plague had hurt so many? The fact that there were good, hard working people who were missing chunks of their families and she still lived? Everything had seemed to go so wrong in her life, then supposedly so right but… Even when Aspel felt like she knew what she was doing, everything still managed to crash and twist around her, to change in ways she didn’t know how to handle, or what to do with it. The feeling of Mag’s hand upon her own caused her grip to shift, and fingers to curl around the other woman’s. Eyes lingered for a moment upon their grasped hands before they then fell back to the armor, to the gauntlet still on her other hand. “Mag,” The other woman’s name came out softly, a certain level of insecurity obviously there. “might the world be better off without me though?” It was a question the had haunted her, a question she couldn’t look the other woman in the eyes while asking, but a question that had floated through her head far more than once. Though, how one would remove themselves from the world without suicide, Aspel still wasn’t sure… Maybe… She’d just have to run away again. “Okay,” Mag said. “Can you name these things that have upset you, or at least some of them?” It always took some time to get to the root of what worried Aspel, but Mag did not mind. She knew she could be of help here, the way that she could not in many other cases, and so she was determined to help Aspel as best as she could, no matter how long it took. The answer to her friend’s next question was simple. “No, it would not,” she said. “The world at large would not be a better place if you were gone. And my world, in particular, would definitely suck some serious balls if you weren’t around.” She squeezed Aspel’s hand, still in her grip. “So don’t even think for a moment that it would.” The question she’d asked - within itself - was an answer of sorts to Mag’s curiosity of what could be upsetting her. A frown pulled at Aspel’s lips briefly, attempting to mask the sorrow she really felt. Worrying Mag seemed like the worst of possible things she could do in this time. “As you wish.” Was all the smith could manage, a slight squeeze of Mag’s hand returned before a forced smile rose. “Perhaps, we would be better suited to speak of something else, no?” It was a feeble attempt at changing the topic, but Aspel wasn’t sure where else to go with this conversation, how else to talk about her considerations of why in the world she was saved, yet innocents had died. Why would Faram save a murderer, and kill a child’s mum? It didn’t make any sense. Not an issue resolved, but one postponed for a later time. Aspel was not so easily persuaded to change her views, especially when such views were negative things about herself. Perhaps a change of subject would help cheer Aspel up, at least. “Sure,” Mag said with a smile. “We can talk about whatever you like. We could even make up some more ludicrous stories about Ajora’s mother, since we didn’t get that many last time.” She patted Aspel’s hand and held the smile in place. For now, there was nothing else that she could do. |