Aspel Cassul: When in doubt, Aspel! (weaponry) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-02-25 21:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, arielle chiaro, aspel cassul |
Can I confess these things to you, Well I don't know, Embedded in my chest, and it hurts to hold....
Who: Aspel & Ari.
What: Two prideful people after a fight are just awkward.
Where: Ordalian restaurant in the Bazaar.
When: Today.
Rating: PG-13?
Status: Complete.
The mood had struck her for a very particular Ordalian dish that afternoon whilst in the middle of a stack of course requests. Of course, darting out of the middle of what she was doing for that sort of dish simply seemed absurd, and quite frankly, Aspel had seen enough of Mag, and… Just about anyone, to not want to bother them to pick something of the sort up for her. They had already done enough, she had already placed too much of a burden upon anyone to bother them anymore. Though, moving was miserable. Not that she had any particularly strong pains anymore - some were still there, like the limp in her right leg - but the nightmares had become worse. Since she’d started slipping, they were deeper, darker, more horrifying. Reminded her of what she held inside, how she’d die someday. The demons dragging her deeper down in the darkness, and her heart had nearly given up. Maybe she just needed to let them destroy her, and have it over with already. A single sleep potion - when she bothered to take one at all if she wasn’t feeling particularly masochistic - only seemed to get her through half of a night before she found herself thrashing and fighting against the sheets she’d managed to tangle herself in before hitting the floor as she’d fallen out of her bed. The smith had earned more than a couple bruises from that over the last few nights. Mag was worried. Aspel wasn’t sure she had the heart to tell the other woman how she thought it’d only get worse. Regardless, the smith had dragged herself up by her metaphorical bootstraps, finished her work for the day, and headed out into the snow laden streets, down Ellinav ave, and to the restaurant. Maybe, a good, heavy, hot meal in the silence of her own apartment without intrusion, while reading a good book, and downing a bottle of mead or two would help get her back to normal… Or at least as close to normal as Aspel Cassul knew how to be. A heavy sigh slipped from her lips as a hand fell heavily against the door, pushing it open to step inside. Aspel would just need to place the order, wait for it to be done, and then go home. It was a simple enough plan. Even if the smith felt like her heart was hurting, like her whole life was on the brink of shambles, sometimes, a night at home, by yourself, in a city that could forget your name and face as easily as losing track of time, was just what one needed sometimes to be able to hold on for another day. Sadly for Aspel, there was a one person in the restaurant who definitely did know her name, not to mention several other things. Ari had felt the hankering for a taste of home -- not quite Noemi’s cooking in Anjou, perhaps, but beggars couldn’t be choosers -- and had stopped into one of her favorite little spots in the bazaar after her daily rehearsal let out. Sadly, little was a literal description, as was popular; not a single table had been free upon her arrival, so she had been forced to order her ratatouille to go and settle down to wait on the small bench by the entrance. Of all places in such a large city, she hadn’t expected to see Aspel walk into this one. They hadn’t talked for days, and frankly, Ari wasn’t sure whether she oughtn’t prefer it that way. Her annoyance returned in full upon sight of the other woman’s face, tempered by concern. Aspel looked… tired. Pained. Ill-rested. Probably wrestling behemoths in her spare time between clinic visits. The temptation to Hide until she went away was nearly overwhelming. But before she could actually do it, the other woman’s glance swung her way, so it seemed it was too late now to do anything but hope for the best. Due to lack of sleep, pain, and hunger, it would take a moment for Ari’s face to click in Aspel’s head. An inhale taken, her mouth opened, as if to speak, before it slowly closed, the faintest, strained, and weakest smile - defeated, beaten down - the bard had ever probably seen was offered, there was little, to no hope left in those eyes, and the smith simply nodded at her before turning to pay attention to the person at the front counter. Her brain raced, her heart cracked, but she’d come here to do something, she had to focus, but….. Faram, seeing Ari here was not what she had wanted, or needed. It made Aspel wish she could rip her own heart out of her chest, and toss it in the gutter, because surely, that would hurt less than what it was doing to her right now. Stepping up, with a gesture of hand, and a few words, the smith would place her order, a turn of her head stopping half way when she realized she was beginning to turn to look at Ari once more. This shouldn’t happen. Ari didn’t want her, Ari shouldn’t want her. It was easier for the bard that way. Pausing, Aspel’s face drew forward again to the woman, and her own acting would shine, a smile offered - obviously fake for anyone who knew her - pleasantly to the woman who had taken her order. “My apologies, but I fear it is a bit warm in here for me. I believe I shall step outside to wait, could you please have someone bring my meal to the door when it is done?” The agreement would be simple, it was a small shop, and just opening the door wouldn’t hurt anyone of course, and Aspel would be just outside the door. In fact she’d even already paid, it would just… Be easier that way. Ari returned the uncertain smile, her own perhaps a bit more polished -- but then, she also didn’t look like she was falling apart at the seams, so maybe that wasn’t so shocking. But before she could come up with something to say, Aspel excused herself and fled the building. Well then. Ari sat for the next fifteen minutes feeling decidedly cross. That… utterly heartbroken look wouldn’t do at all. Not only was it distressing (a fact she didn’t want to examine too closely), but it clearly wasn’t doing Aspel’s physical health any favors, either. She was still walking stiffly. probably not sleeping. probably… Not her problem, Ari reminded herself firmly. She wouldn’t fuss where she wasn’t wanted. Damn it, anyway. A harried-looking waitress, familiar after many repeat visits to this establishment, emerged from the kitchen, bearing two bags. Upon seeing Ari, her entire face lit up. “Arielle, cherie, si tu peux, pour la madame qui vient juste de sortir? Y’a trop du monde ce soir.” And really, what was Ari supposed to do, say no? The restaurant was full, and she was going out anyway -- she doubted Aspel would have gone far. Still she sighed. “Seulement parce que je t’adore, Solange.” “Je te dois!” Before Ari could confirm that yes, she very much owed her, Solange was already rushing back to the kitchen, likely to fetch another order, and the bard was left holding both meals, helpfully labeled with their respective names. Outside, in the cold, Aspel was found leaning against the wall, clearly favoring her injured leg. Since she had no choice but to speak to her now, Ari made the best of it; approaching, she held out the bag with the other woman’s dinner and said, a bit sadly, “You didn’t have to wait out in the cold. Here.” When Ari approached Aspel remained silent, hand stuffed in pockets, and her face down turned to some degree, eyes seemingly distant with thoughts she wished not to share with the public at large. “It was warm.” Came the murmured response, the effort in putting strength - assuredness - behind the words waivered, but they were there regardless of how she did or didn’t actually feel. The smith did her best not to meet the bard’s eyes, a hand moving up to carefully take the bag in hopes to not brush hands up against Ari’s if it could be helped. “Thank you.” These words had no cheer, just exhaustion, and depression. Now would be the time to leave, to bid Ari a good evening, and make her way back to her apartment to eat in quiet with booze to supplement her misery for just a while longer. Yet, Aspel also felt that with Ari there, with the other woman looking at her, with just that hint of sadness in her voice that… Well… It was as if Ari’s presence, a simple look from the bard’s eyes had pinned her to the wall which she leaned against, as if until Ari bid her farewell, she was incapable of moving away of her own accord. How could someone who didn’t want power, have such control over her? Why couldn’t Aspel just shuck off the feeling of depression and powerlessness, and… Move on. Surely, Ari would. The concerned this can’t be good for you right now was bitten back. That was obviously none of her business. What did it matter if Aspel decided to drive herself into the ground? Ari clearly had no place to say anything about it even if it was worrisome, when it wasn’t infuriating. “I hope you cooled down, then.” Her tone was even now; no need to show that all of this was still affecting her. “And that you’re feeling better.” That came out in spite of her best efforts, though she supposed commenting on someone’s well-being wasn’t so very personal. And she did hope Aspel recovered even if Aspel herself seemed much happier when she was limping about in pain. Not that she looked or sounded happy, but it was the principle of the thing. The bag handed over, she said, “Enjoy your dinner; the food’s good here.” It was on the tip of her tongue -- practiced, habit, whatever it was -- to offer to share the meal. The smithy wasn’t far, and she’d found herself welcome there for months now. But not today, she reminded herself. Clearly, she would be intruding, and she’d always made a point of not meddling where she wasn’t wanted. Maybe someday, she would be again, but that day was obviously not today… “Get some rest.” This last was said quietly, almost kindly. She couldn’t stay angry for long; her temper, though it was hot when ignited, had more or less burned itself out by now. And she was stalling, she realized. “I should let you go.” Once more silence permeated in the air from Aspel, there were no words, and anything she did think to say would die in her throat. It wasn’t that thoughts didn’t occur, that offers weren’t there, that she didn’t desire but… There was no energy, no feeling of worth, or anything even remotely within her that felt she might possibly deserve anything from Ari anymore. She’d hurt the other woman, and she deserved no more than she had now. Though, there was one thing, and Aspel’s eyes rose, mouth opening as if to speak on an inhale of air before the smith crushed what little thought - or hope she might have had back down. This wasn’t welcome, she wasn’t - and her mouth closed wordless once again. It wasn’t until Ari seemed done addressing her that the smith would speak at all. “As you wish.” The words were defeated, much like the rest of her, and Aspel’s gaze lowered away from the bard, seemingly undeserving to look at the other woman, but she didn’t move, not yet. Really, she’d never deserved what she got in the first place, so how could she have ever expected something like this might last? “It isn’t about what I wish.” And really, why was she engaging with this right now. “If that means you’ll give yourself the opportunity to heal, though, I can’t say I’m sorry.” She thought back to her conversation with Audrey, her best friend’s seemingly simple suggestion to simply tell Aspel exactly why it would be terrible -- a terrible waste -- if she finally succeeded in getting herself killed, but… “I wish,” she said, thinking even as she spoke that this was bound to make things worse, “that you would care for yourself the way you care for others.” You are worth too much to throw your life away, she didn’t say. She wished she could be mad, actually, because now all she felt was sad and awkward. “Your food is getting cold. So is mine. We should go.” Our separate ways, at least for tonight. For the first time in their entire conversation, and interaction - aside for the accidently meeting of eyes when she first entered the restaurant not long before - Aspel would raise her gaze, trying to catch Ari’s eyes, some vague glimpse of her former determination rising, even if it had clearly been weakened by whatever else had broken her down as of late. “Yet to me, it is.” Though, the next words out of Ari’s mouth would leave the smith taken aback, and her eyes would fall away again. The words she thought, and what would be appropriate to say in a public forum would be two completely different things here, and instead, all Aspel could manage was a low, passive “Mm.” More of a confirmation of hearing Ari, than agreement or not. At mention of their respective foods, not a motion, or word was given. Really, she’d lost her appetite almost entirely at this point, and her normal drive to help, to care for others, to assure their wellness had dropped out almost completely. Really, if Aspel could just go lay under a rock and waste away, she’d be more than happy with the results. “Well, it seems to be that we are forever destined to be at odds on this matter.” Not cause for a permanent parting, certainly, though perhaps Aspel didn’t see it that way? And why did that thought make her feel so wretched? “For the sake of my wish, then, if you like: go home, eat your dinner, and get some sleep.” She stepped closer, placing a hand on Aspel’s arm for a moment, as though she was about to do -- or say -- something else, but in the end that was all it would be: a brief contact, lingering a few moments before it was withdrawn. “Good night, Aspel. I’m going home now.” “As you wish.” The words were low, hollow, and empty, but at the same time, a promise of sorts. She’d obey Ari’s wishes, perhaps… She always would if possible, if it didn’t interfere with her own… Whatever the hell this was. When the hand fell to her arm, eyes moved to look at it, seeming unsure of how to respond, or act at all, and her jaw tightened, head lifting up slightly to look at the bard. It was hard, but if it was what Ari wanted of her… “Good night.” It was all Aspel could muster, all she could manage with a brief nod of her head before waiting for Ari to step back, and walk away. It was better that way. And as there was no response to the almost-overture, that was exactly what Ari did -- stepped back and away, holding her bag of food close, though its warmth didn’t serve to help with the cold misery she felt about this whole situation. Maybe it would have been better had they not encountered each other at all. She was not cut out for worrying; she didn’t know what to do aside from getting angry again. She almost said good night again but that, she thought crossly, was prolonging an already too-long, too-awkward moment. So with a nod (a good-bye, maybe, or just an acknowledgement, or… she didn’t really know anymore), she turned, drawing her cloak about her and beginning the trek home. Tomorrow, sad to say, was an early morning, and her mood was likelier than not to keep her awake a long time yet.. |