Aspel Cassul: When in doubt, Aspel! (weaponry) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-03-15 23:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, arielle chiaro, aspel cassul |
Rule number two, just don't get attached to, Somebody you could lose...
Who: Aspel & Ari
What: Making up, more or less
Where: Aspel’s apartment
When: Backdated: 3/4 (Pisces 14), shortly after this
Rating: PG-ish? (WARNINGS: Insinuations of violence, self depreciation, probably other things that I'm missing...)
Status: Complete
Ari had invited herself over. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t have been particularly surprising. Yet, considering how they had gone from seeing each other - and spending the night at each other’s respective flats - multiple times a week to not seeing each other at all (with exception made for that one particularly awkward run in) for the last two weeks? It was… It… Felt odd. Not bad per se, but unusual. Life had crawled on after the fight, and Aspel had mostly healed at this point along with adapting to not having the comfort of another body with which to share her bed. Any injuries lingering remained not due to lack of care, but because of her constantly disrupted rest… And drinking. Which that addiction - if Aspel recognized it as such or not - had only continued to progress further and further at this point. There was only one night in recent recollection where she had blacked out, and considering the circumstances, it had probably been for the best as there had been no nightmares that one night. The other nights? Well, Aspel tried not to think about night time as a whole. At this point, she’d been downing more than the recommended dose of the sleep tonics. If she continued at such a rate, the smith would rip through her ‘monthly’ supply in two weeks. It was.... Unfortunate. Perhaps she ought to invest in more liquor. The thought of alcohol poisoning the furthest thing from her mind as the option was mulled over more. Spirits would probably be cheaper than the potions at this rate, and anyone of their right mind would agree that it most certainly would take far better. Regardless, Aspel was managing. At night she read as long as she could, downed sleep tonics, slept until she woke in a cold sweat as she thrashed against her sheets, downed more tonic, woke, hid as much of her weakness behind a strict cleanliness and make up routine before spending a better part of the day downing at least one - if not two - pots of coffee to remain operational the whole day through. It was far from an ideal way to live. Tonight was no exception as her normal tea had been forgone in place of a cup of strong black Kerwonian brew with two tablespoons of sugar added for an extra kick. Normally, the smith would be on her couch, but due to Ari’s message, Aspel instead found herself down in The Armory with her back leaned against the order counter waiting to let the other woman in. As for Ari, she had propelled herself to the Bazaar District on something edging on desperation, though she hadn’t wanted to call it that. Yes, she was exhausted, yes she was hungry. But this… fighting, arguing, whatever it was… was also making her upset, and she had enough on her plate that ‘upset’ was really not wanted or needed right now. (And yes, she had admitted, hadn’t she -- more or less -- that she missed Aspel’s company, and why shouldn’t she? The company had always been good, except when Aspel was being self destructive, which wasn’t all the time.) So in spite of being tired and hungry, her steps were not slow or weary as she approached the door to the smithy. Her knock might have been hesitant, but fortunately for everyone, there was a bell, which she rang. The thought that after all of this (after the seemingly endless cycles of as you wish) Aspel would just leave her outside had only occurred briefly. Well, if she did, Ari supposed it was going to be time to test the Armory’s locks after all. “Come in.” Aspel called - her voice only somewhat displaying the real bone worn weariness that had seeped into her bones - across the shop so that Ari would allow herself in. The door had been unlocked previously, and really with the lack of sleep, the smith ached from head to toe. Every inch of her body had slowly joined in protest over the course of the past two weeks as sleep became more and more of a prized commodity that she certainly wasn’t about to get enough of any time soon. Arms had remained crossed, the cup of coffee resting leisurely in one hand, and only half drank. A pondering of her last coffee binge brought up memories of when she’d last regularly frequented her work in the shop, and was just as quickly dismissed. Wouldn’t life be easier if that was all she had ever done? A moment would pass before Aspel piped up again. “Lock it if you would, please.” A finger from the hand wrapped around her coffee mug extended to implicate the door as what she spoke of before the smith shifted forward with an involuntary groan as she removed herself from leaning against the counter. Ari opened the door at the sound of the familiar voice (this was not going to get awkward; she simply refused to let it be), then turned to lock it behind her when asked, catching only a glimpse of the other woman before she did so, getting the impression of a stance that seemed a little hunched, but nothing more. That was, until she turned around and got a proper look. The seventeen things she had thought of to say on the way over (each for a different set of circumstances, naturally) flew out of her mind; it was difficult not to revert to distress. Not anger, this time, but worry. Aspel hadn’t looked particularly healthy that night in the Ordalian restaurant, but she’d been injured. There hadn’t been any large battles since then, and her injuries were sure to have healed by now, but… “You look…” terrible “tired,” she said. She didn’t sound upset, which was probably a good start. She made her way over, resisted the urge to put both hands on Aspel’s cheeks and hold on for a moment. Silly urge, really, considering the other woman didn’t seem all that steady. “Hello Aspel,” she said, instead. “You know, I would fail spectacularly at carrying you up the stairs, the way you’ve done for me on a few occasions. I really hope it’s not going to come to that.” She spared a glance to the cup, noted that it was coffee -- late, for Aspel; yet another habit she seemed to have learned these last few months -- and none of her words seemed to matter after all. She’d come with a pretense of putting Aspel to bed; now it became her actual goal. “Shall we?” “I…. am.” Came the somewhat broken, weak, and hesitant admission, but no lies or other explanations came to mind. The delves into dark magicks, the growing press of Dullahan, and her own long learned prejudices against what she herself was did Aspel no favors in these last few weeks. If she were a weaker person, surely she would have been mad by now. Though really, considering how she continued on, was she perhaps not already insane? What person of right mind would engage as she had? Who would give themselves to the dark after breaking away from it freely after so long? Who… No, Aspel was simply weak, a fool, and someone who could, nor would, ever win. “It shall not.” A glance was given down to the cup of coffee, a consideration of sorts before the cup was simply held before her, and the smith turned to walk, gesturing towards the back room, and by default the stairs. “I pray it was not too cold a walk from the crystal?” Small talk would - to some degree - be the key here, at least until Aspel felt like something heavier could be handled. That - she assured herself - could come upstairs. Once in the warmth of her own abode, she could handle whatever Ari may wish to throw at her once again. The thought was perhaps a lie, but really, it was all in that moment that Aspel had. Ari sighed, murmuring, “What am I going to do with you?” The tone was too gentle to be considered irritated, but some bit of the hopelessness she had felt when she had shouted at Aspel two weeks prior remained; her accusations that the other woman was refusing to care for herself, which had been made in anger, seemed a little too true now that she looked at Aspel’s haggard, exhausted features. “It’s warming up,” she answered, then, “though I could use a blanket. In due time, I hope.” And she wasn’t above a little manipulation to get her way -- maybe her own claims of feeling chilly would get Aspel up the stairs and into bed faster. This wasn’t quite (at all) the reconciliation she had wanted, but one did not sing arias while bleeding to death. “Come on.” She took Aspel’s hand lightly, tugged her towards the stairs as she began to walk that way herself. She almost said, next time, I can just let myself in, but somehow that felt… wrong. Strangely intimate, maybe? It wasn’t a promise, but they were on such boggy ground; she wasn’t fully certain yet that Aspel wanted a next time at all. She did. Faram knew why but… she was good at getting the things she wanted, wasn’t she? First step: ensure Aspel got some rest. Second step… to be determined from there. A few thoughts came to mind about what Ari could do with her. Unfortunately, all caused a deep seated pain to rip through her chest, and even when the thoughts were attempted to be pressed away, there still was an ache that remained. “I do not know.” Was all she could offer in the end, depression lingering in her tone. “As you wish.” Came a mildly beaten down, and oddly obedient response to the commentary regarding the bard’s desire for a blanket. Certainly Aspel had more than enough to spare. With the forge not running as often now-a-days, she’d had to stock up on a variety of things she’d never bothered with before… Including the rug in her bedroom. With the feeling of Ari’s hand grasping hers, Aspel’s fingers wrapped around the other woman’s, holding on - perhaps - just a little too tight for such a casual interaction. There was something desperate, a part of her that wanted to cling to what had been offered in the simple holding of hands, and never let it go. It was a simple gesture - one that shouldn’t have been particularly significant, or impactful - but somehow, for some reason, that the smith would never be able to place, it felt much like a life preserver that had been tossed to someone who was drowning. It was only when they were upstairs, and Ari would - logically - need her hands back to remove her winter gear that Aspel - noticeably - reluctantly withdrew her grasp of the other woman’s hand while her gaze lingered over the floor, seemingly lost on what to do. It would take a few seconds before anything even remotely sensical surfaced to say. “Coffee.” A beat as the realization dawned on her that the single word may not make a lick of sense. “I have some if you would like it. It is Kerwonian however, I fear.” Ari noted the reluctance before Aspel’s hand left hers, and for some reason that had her speeding her movements to remove her cloak and boots, setting aside her instrument case. Under the cloak, she still wore clothing from rehearsal, which was fortunately loose and comfortable enough -- she hadn’t been home long enough to change. At the mention of coffee, she managed a small, light laugh, though its presence in Aspel’s kitchen this time of night was worrisome on its own. “As difficult as it may be, I believe I can forgive you Kerwonian coffee.” And she might have even accepted the offer to have some, if she weren’t so focused now on another goal entirely. She brought her arms up to cross her chest, permitted a tiny shiver. “I’m colder than I thought,” she said, half lie, half truth, mostly an excuse to step in, wrap her arms around Aspel’s waist, hold on for a few moments. Better than a hand to hold, or so she thought -- and though she wasn’t often in the business of dispensing comfort, she knew how, of course, even when she wasn’t entirely certain why it was needed. Well, maybe she needed it, too, a little. She was really too tired to argue with herself about it. “Better than a blanket,” she muttered. Maybe she’d just stay here a little while before dragging Aspel off to bed and knocking her out. Then, possibly, coffee (or, far more likely, curling up against Aspel’s side and falling asleep; both food and coffee seemed overrated right this moment). The briefest - and smallest - smile was forced at Ari’s words regarding the coffee. “I know it not to be your preference.” From Aspel’s perspective - and personal experience - everything seemed to be made stronger in Kerwon, with a few exceptions of course. Not that there hadn’t been a fair share of Ordalian things that hadn’t knocked her on her ass, it would be a lie to say there wasn’t but… Well, Ordalia wasn’t known for the same things, now was it? Though, the slight smile quickly disappeared. Was this a mistake? Maybe it was, but Aspel had always been too weak to resist her addictions, now hadn’t she? Only when Ari spoke again did Aspel’s gaze rise from the floor to peer over at the other woman. Had making thoughts congeal into remotely reasonable sentences, and responses always been this hard? Then the bard stepped in, and - with a pause - Aspe shifted, placing the cup of coffee down before wrapping her arms around Ari in a - tighter than normal - hug. One that seemed oddly similar to the hand holding of just moments before, a grasp that didn’t want to let go. After a few moments one of Aspel’s hands would begin to stroke down over Ari’s back. “Is there anything you would like?” The hug seemed to be just the thing -- if Anything, Ari was no longer feeling chilled, and that strange, unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach was loosening, too. That Aspel was not in the best shape was obvious to anyone with eyes, but at least… well, it wasn’t as though a brief embrace would help with that, Ari supposed. Sleep would, though. She’d figure out the rest later, one way or another. (Strange, though, how rarely she engaged with people in these sorts of moods; the list of people for whom she’d subject herself to this was likely a mirror of the list of those for whom she might be mad enough to go on a life-threatening mission. All things considered, it was better that she was tired enough not to dwell on that, either.) The question prompted another laugh, short and soft but genuine. “Oh,” she said, “so many things. But I think I’ll start with that blanket. Preferably while prone upon your bed. Come on.” She pulled back from the embrace a little, though one arm stayed at Aspel’s waist as she attempted to propel them both forward. “If you’re really not tired --” unlikely -- “we’ll get up and have coffee later.” “Mm.” A brief nod was given with no words to confirm the hearing, and understanding of what Ari desired. A glance was given over towards her cup of coffee, seeming to consider it for a moment - perhaps gulping it down - before deciding it was best to leave it be for the time. It’d be cold later, and atrocious to taste, but… Maybe that would be better in the end. “Exhausted.” Aspel added, unsure where her sudden bout of irrationally pure honesty had sprung forth from. “But I would like not to sleep.” A pause, quite brief as she began to move in the way which Ari would direct, and jumbled thoughts fought out which would make it to her lips. “Or at least, not to dream.” Which, avoiding dreams within sleep? Well, that was simply asking for the impossible, wasn’t it? Though, the lingering yearning - a pulling, a strain within her chest - to remain within Ari’s presence was also not missed. “So we’ll just lie down,” Ari said, her tone pleasant, soothing, seemingly unconcerned. As for what came after, well. She had managed to induce dreamless sleep before, hadn’t she? Granted, it had lasted half the night at most and Aspel had been altogether in a better state then, but she could do something. Even a few hours of sleep seemed sorely needed. “If you like,” she suggested, “we’ll simply curl up and I will talk at you about any number of insignificant things.” She didn’t offer to sing, although she would do that, too, when it came time to make certain Aspel slept (whether she thought she’d like to or not). “Inane babble is one of my many talents. You simply have to make noises of assent once in awhile, unless I bore you to sleep.” “Mm.” Aspel offered in return, honestly, with the coffee she’d drank it was unlikely she’d be able to get to sleep any time soon anyway. The sugar infused strong brew would likely keep her up at least a few hours more, even with only having managed to drink about half the cup. Though, if lying down was what Ari wanted, Aspel could hardly complain, especially with how stiff and sore she still felt. That seemed to be a constant she wasn’t soon to escape, at least, not without heavy doses of cure potions, and sleep tonics which… Well, Aspel couldn’t really afford that drastic a dosage in both cost, and what needed to be completed for her personal affairs for work. Though, then came the second offer, and hesitantly eyes rose to glance at Ari’s before dipping away again, a slight thoughtfulness emerging within the pure exhaustion which had etched itself into her bones. “I…” A pause, a consideration of… “Would quite like that I believe.” Let Ari do with it what she would, but for once… Aspel was being entirely honest, and perhaps, with the way the night was going as it seemed a trend, she’d continue do so if she enjoyed the idea of it or not. Well, that was a relief. Ari thought that ever since her own (rather awkward) reaching out, and possibly since sometime before then, Aspel hadn’t willingly admitted to wanting anything. The fact that her inane chatter was apparently what was desired was a bit strange, but she supposed that their conversations were one of the things she had missed, too. Even if the conversation was bound to be one-sided; coffee or not, she thought Aspel looked like she might drop out of consciousness minutes after her head hit the pillow. In any case, it seemed she would be successful in getting Aspel to lie down at least, so already she was succeeding in at least one thing. Into the bedroom and onto the bed they went, Ari waiting for Aspel to settle down (the other woman appeared to still be in some quantity of pain, she noted unhappily) before lying down next to her, head on her shoulder, one leg flung over both of hers, arm stretched across her abdomen. It was a comfortable position now; she found herself releasing a small sigh of contentment as more of the unwanted unpleasantness faded and she felt a little more like herself (I missed this, she didn’t -- wouldn’t -- say, but she had). Her finger drew a lazy circle over the fabric of Aspel’s shirt as she spoke, quietly now. “Let’s see, what shall I inanely babble about tonight? I’ve started rehearsals on my second show while the first is still not quite complete; remind me never to do this again. On the bright side, for all the she is terribly silly, I still have more in common with Juliana than the other role I’m learning right now, and I’ve had the largest of the arias and one of the duets down since I was twenty, so it’s slightly less taxing than it could be. And my co-star isn’t drunk every day, nor is he at all interested in goosing me, so I can only commend him for being such an incredible improvement over Fedoro.” She spoke softly, her voice a murmur. It was inane -- silly babble about her daily life -- and very possibly sleep inducing, but it couldn’t be said that she didn’t try. It took a moment to find a spot that could be considered even remotely comfortable. It wasn't the bed, the sheets, or even the company in the least… Though, Aspel had started to grow unaccustomed to the company. If she were of sound mind, the smith would recognize how unhappy not having Ari around had made her simply for the sake that she missed the other woman. However, Aspel, being Aspel, had twisted and warped the reality of the situation into a cold, self degrading stab at herself in the end, had made the entire thing - in her mind - to be about how much better, happier Ari would be without the smith in her life. Ari's life would be easier with Aspel, there would not be as much pain, anger, and frustration. Regardless of what she had thought, finally laying down with the bard brought a stabbing pain - had she doomed Ari to misery? - along with a relief that hadn't been expected. Though, with that relief came a certain… guilt as well. Yet, here they were. Perhaps - just for tonight - Aspel could indulge in the feeling of a warm body next to hers. One of a person she was attracted to, challenged by, and… Enjoyed in more ways than just physical. In a way that so few others had ever impacted her in her life thus far. "An insanity that I will endeavor to keep you from." Was the soft response, a deep level of care embedded in the gentle words, and maybe - just maybe - there was the faintest shimmer of a tease behind them, but as quickly as it barely appeared it was gone once again. The other thought that emerged was saved until Ari was finished speaking, and a tired, worn, yet desperately trying smile emerged. "And as it appears that you have made up your mind that clearly this is not so terrible, and surely you are likely to do so again in the future, I will simply smile, nod, and let the grocer know that I will be in need of a weekly delivery to your flat once more." It had seemed to work well in the past instances so Aspel saw no reason to discontinue such treatment and… Well… Ari was Ari, and the bard often did as she pleased for… Whatever Faram forsaken reason might drive her to it. If it was stealing things, or continuing to deal with the buffoon that was Aspel Cassul… Well… The smith didn't know, but… It'd be a lie to say that some small, selfish piece of her wasn't inherently glad that Ari had chosen to stick around. “No,” Ari insisted, though her tone was slightly amused, “I will do any number of operas or plays again, but never together If I try, stop me.” She sighed, heavy and dramatic, and said, rather plaintively, “It is the first week and it already feels like hell week. This was not the wisest decision I have ever made in my life. Though between you and Drake, I’ll be well-fed, at least.” He’d dropped something off the night before; if she had known, she might not have dragged herself out for takeout (but then, she also would not have seen Kiernan, so she supposed it worked out all right; at least she’d have leftovers). “No inappropriate necklines for me this time around, anyway, unless you want to count Juliana’s nightgown, which is certain to be a little sheer,” she said, recalling their adventures with the Sorana gown the summer prior. “I am wearing so many layers in the founders’ Play -- not to mention a mechanical harness -- that my face and hands will be the only things anyone will ever see.” Another small sigh. “It is going to be hot.” She paused before asking, “I am assuming you are not working on the armor this year?” Miles’ costume was not one she had yet seen except in pieces, and to her eyes it hadn’t looked nearly as elaborate or interesting as last year’s (but of course, the public would expect something new and different, not to mention that Miles would drown in anything made for Edwin’s height). “Do let me know if there is more I can do.” The offer was sincere, as her offers to Ari nearly always were. It’s almost strange in that sense. Being raised noble, Aspel had often been taught to offer things for sake of politeness, but now she found herself… Actively hoping that the bard would take the offer. “A pity.” The tease was soft, again barely even there in retort to view of Ari’s neckline for the show. Of course, Aspel had been there for the play, she’d made every one that Ari had been in that she could manage, which…. Well, that had been a great many of them. A thought had occurred, to attempt to gather all the showbills, and other materials that had been handed out of the shows she had attended, put them together in some book, and present them back to the other woman but… Somehow… That didn’t feel quite right either. A thought not to ponder now. “I had not volunteered this year, no. The shop has been…” It was painful to say, “a secondary priority.” Which was unfortunate on so many regards. “I may be trying to open up more time for it again, but mostly in assisting to facilitate the guild’s needs for weaponry.” Though, the idea of wearing her gear into battle, and creating masterful works of art for the actors and actresses to display during shows did bring a yearning to her heart and mind once more. Faram, how she missed smithing. It was such a simple thing, so time consuming, and such hard work but at the same time… It offered a freedom she no longer could have, but… The guild was better for it. That - supposedly - was all she could ask. Another pause as Aspel fell silent for a moment. “Ari…?” “Just remind me to stay sane. As for my neckline, I’ll wear something inappropriate some other time,” Ari promised easily. Perhaps this time, she might entice Aspel to linger in her dressing room awhile, and there was room for any number of things under the mage robes she would wear for the Founders’ Play… A pleasant thought. She smiled softly, contemplating it. (It felt nice to make plans; she didn’t even realize how very unlike her that was.) “Someday, the stars will align and I will get to wear something you’ve made,” she said lightly. On stage seemed more likely than otherwise -- she carried the dagger Aspel had made her even now, but was unlikely ever to be converted to anything beyond the lightest leather armor. It was another absent thought, like so many of her others in this moment, gone as quickly as it came. Then her name, spoken softly, almost hesitantly, though perhaps she was hearing things. “Yes?” “Sanity has many faults.” When was the last time they had spoken quite like this? Aspel honestly couldn’t entirely recall. It was relaxed, calm, and conversation simply for the sake of conversation. There was no driving questions, no turmoil trying to rend her innards apart, no purpose to the talk, nothing to hide or be bothered by in this second specifically. It was simply her, and Ari, and their conversation wherever it may take them. There was hardly any desire within the smith for more than this simple banter, and the warmth of the other’s body next to her own. Surely, that would soon change, but there was a peace with this, one she had not been able to grasp for some time. There was no need to clam up, no need to revert to sex, or random grumbles of agreement or approval, it was just… Simple. Though, the idea of Ari wearing something of a revealing nature just for her.. Well, it would be a lie to deny a certain pleasure within the thought. “I would like that.” The words were idle, passive in sound, yet surprising to herself to realize how deep seated the feeling really was. It would take a moment for the disturbed surface of water within her mind to calm, the ripples fading away until Ari responded to the inquiry of her name. Another pause permeated for moment before Aspel shifted, pulling the bard closer, and wrapping an arm around the other woman a bit tighter. The feeling of what she thought was there, but not the words. They jumbled inside her head, attempting to find a way to make it through the haze of translation from feelings to voice. “Stay?” Her voice dipped low, eyes lingering away from Ari’s face, locking on her own thumb stroking against whatever bit of the bard it could touch. With voice lowered, it wavered the faintest bit. “Please…?” The request, quiet and uncertain, almost took Ari by surprise. Did Aspel think she was going to storm out again? Her temper had quite obviously burned itself out by now, and she did not think she was behaving in a manner that would imply her desire to leave (she had, after all, been the one to drag Aspel to bed and all but sprawl on top of her). She rolled in closer, brushing her lips softly over Aspel’s skin, just above her collar. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” she said. “I thought perhaps I’d ensure you got some uninterrupted rest tonight.” They could both pretend to be talking about this one evening in particular -- it didn’t have to mean more than that. These thoughts, like so many others, were allowed to flow by without being addressed. Ari had developed quite a skill for that, based perhaps on her impressive talent for ignoring things that did not suit her. A pause, followed by a hesitation. Just what could she say to that? The offer was nice, the concept of Ari knocking her out as the bard had done many nights before was terribly appealing but… There would be no promise it would be nearly as effective as it once was before. If the sleep tonics no longer worked as well as they had in the past, why should Ari’s song? Fingers shifted, roaming aimlessly before contacting the first bit of Ari’s flesh they could find. “Your offer is quite kind.” Another pause. “Yet I fear it may not work particularly well.” Nothing seemed to now-a-days. Honestly, Aspel had all but given up at this point. “The tonics are…” What? “Failing.” Ari sighed. She didn’t like the sleep tonics, if she were honest -- liked Aspel’s apparently increased reliance on them even less. It seemed an unfortunate necessity, one she couldn’t fully understand, being the sort to fall asleep instants after her head hit the pillow in most cases. “Bad dreams?” she asked after a few moments of silence. Perhaps she shouldn’t have, but… Surely, the problem could not have been caused only by the battle Ari had not attended and their subsequent fight? Aspel had seemed mostly all right prior to that, but… Had Ari really been paying close enough attention to say? She didn’t know. They had been going along, same as always, for months now. Had Aspel been more reserved recently? More worried? She couldn’t answer. And why did that realization make her feel terrible again, reviving that tense, unhappy tension in the pit of her stomach? “Would you like to tell me why?” she asked after a few moments of contemplative silence, her tone perhaps just slightly uncertain, though she did her best to mask it. She didn’t generally probe at people about their troubles, but if Aspel decided to talk… she thought she would be content to listen. “I…” Her voice trailed off, hesitant in the moment. However, that would not help her, it would not help Ari either in this instance. If the bard was to attempt to help her sleep, then would the other woman not need to know the recent circumstances of her plight? “Yes.” The singular word was followed by another pause, an uncertainty of how to continue linger in her mind. “Of my dreams?” A hint of confusion rose, as the smith wasn’t entirely sure if Ari meant about the troubles sleeping, and the issues it had caused in her waking life, or of the dreams themselves. The troubles sleeping well… It was likely obvious in how she looked this eve with all of the preparations of the day to hide her weariness now gone. “Why the…” state you have brought yourself to “dreams?” Ari clarified. “Do you know?” Surely if it had become this bad, there ought to be some reason that could be pinpointed. A deterioration of well-being to this point was unlikely to have come on for no apparent reason. (She just had to hope that the reason wasn’t her; she was not at all a fan of guilt, and if she had had a part in this, she was bound to be hit with quite a lot of it.) The question of course brought with it a silence of its own. Both hesitance to speak of them - as Aspel often tried her hardest not to talk about such things - and consideration about how to approach the subject nearly overwhelming in the moment as such. Wetting her lips, a slow inhale was taken. “Because I am using Fell once more.” A pause. “Because I am giving into everything I had tried to hold myself away from, from… My addictions.” Eyes shifted, lingering away from the bard before her. “They say that the use of Fell will condemn one’s soul to the depths of hell. That darkness will drag down their bodies, hearts, and minds. With monsters like Dullahan lurking within the world, and worse, I have found myself often wondering if those words are more true than not.” “Ah,” Ari said. She thought that perhaps she was simply destined never to understand this distress -- it was likely her lack of faith in anything in particular that caused the disconnect -- but really, she couldn’t help thinking that Aspel would benefit from adopting a viewpoint more like hers. “They say a great many things,” she said. “I am not at all certain I believe most of them. The abilities you’re using are just that -- a skillset. I can’t say they aren’t useful. Annoying for the healer trailing behind you,” this with a hint of self-deprecating amusement, “but useful. You are not wandering around lopping the heads off of innocent passerby. On the occasions I have seen you resort to their use, it seemed justified.” And in the end, could anyone willing and able to kill ask for more than that? She propped herself up so that she might look at the other woman’s face, even if Aspel seemed determined to look away. “As for -- well, I’m assuming that’s his name; you never told me. In any case, as for him, it is not as though you chose him -- he chose you. Do you think I want to wander around advised by an ill-tempered pyromaniac?” she asked. “No,” she answered immediately, “I cannot say it was upon my list of life goals. We do the best we can with what we encounter -- and if you are so set on painting him with the brush of darkness and depravity, well then, better you directing his actions than someone with fewer compunctions.” Her tone gentled as she pointed out, “Yours have never been in doubt for me; I have said and will continue saying that you are a good person, better than most I know.” Ari’s firm belief that the dark powers which Aspel called forth in times of need were nothing more than a simple ability, that it had no other ramifications or responsibilities was both refreshing and… Depressing. “Power corrupts.” The two words were low. “And it would not be the first time I would have taken the fall.” Though, precisely what she had fallen to before? Well, that was an entirely different story. The side step to make commentary regarding the summon’s name earned a low “Mm,” from Aspel to confirm that Ari’s suspicions on the situation were correct. With the words out, Aspel’s brow furrowed, seeming to consider the circumstance at hand. “I,” a pause, “I fear perhaps the missing piece here would be,” a panic rose in her chest, a tightness, “how susceptible I am to suggestion.” When broken down, and treaded upon, Aspel was not the person to hold out, not in her own mind. No, to Aspel, she was the person to give in, to break. Another thought rose, and it made her gut sink. With lowered tone, and volume once more Aspel spoke. “That is because you have never seen just what I am willing to do.” “I have only seen what you’ve shown me,” Ari said; if her tone was light, it was because she could not find it in herself to be particularly concerned. Aspel was… well, she certainly indulged in self-flagellation and related activities on a regular basis, but at her core, she wanted to do good, seemingly with such intensity that it was difficult to believe she would do otherwise. Unlike Ari, who sought her own welfare above all things, Aspel seemed to endlessly go after the welfare of others instead. Ari did not think she could explain this, not in a way that would get through to the other woman (certainly not considering the state she was in tonight), so she only said, “Based on what I know of you -- and perhaps you might say that is very little…” A twinge, at that, of unpleasantness and sadness, to be pushed away, “I trust you not to… lose yourself.” That was the ultimate fear, wasn’t it? “I suppose you ought to surround yourself with those who would not advise you against the principles you prefer to follow. Maybe I ought to excuse myself from advising you in future?” she teased. Perhaps it wasn’t the moment for levity, but she added, “I might suggest all manner of unthinkable things, such as eating several meals a day, sleeping in until double digits, and skipping work on occasion to lounge about mostly undressed, preferably with me for company.” What could one really say to that? To shuck off such trust - which was quite deep - was rude, yet at the same time, Ari did not ask questions often, but Aspel had offered to be as truthful in her responses as she could manage when Ari did ask and… “Ah, but what am I to do when knowing fully that I do not trust myself?” And perhaps that was the greatest, and most disturbing, truth of the matter. Though, Ari was ever attempting for light, and honestly, after the days of berating herself, Aspel wasn’t sure if this was a welcome segue into something better, or upsetting, and honestly? She wasn’t sure if she ought to care. “I know not.” A weak smile was attempted, not really honest in its administration, but Aspel hadn’t a clue how to feel anyway, so perhaps that was for the best in the end. The suggestions however, earned a short, low laugh. “Terrible indeed.” “Find someone else to trust when you’re uncertain of yourself,” Ari said simply, then quickly added, “Mag seems likely, don’t you think?” Of course she hadn’t meant herself. Of course not. She was not the sort to be relied on. “Granted, she may not offer such terrible advice as lounging about with bards at all hours of the afternoon, but we can’t have everything.” The smile wasn’t genuine, Ari knew Aspel well enough by now to realize it. Still, it was a start, wasn’t it? Trying seemed half the battle at this point. She leaned in to offer a soft, slow kiss. Nothing heated, no ulterior motives except perhaps a bit of comfort. “That may be all you need to worry about tonight,” she said. Life would go on tomorrow, and Aspel, with dark circles around her eyes, needed nothing so much as rest. “There’s something you should know, I think. I am much better than a tonic.” She had to believe it -- even when the tonics had been working, hadn’t Aspel mentioned that the sleep she got with the help of a song had been deeper and dreamless? The urge to do something, anything to help was almost overwhelming. Something small, then -- a lullaby and her warmth, and that was all. “May I try to help, at least? Even if you sleep, I promise I won’t go tonight.” But could she trust herself to know when to rely on others? How could Ari have such trust in her? How could Mag? Yet, somehow they did. What she had she done to gain such trust from them, how she had convinced them - tricked them seemed more likely - that her time, friendship, her….. Whatever they had come to see was good enough to be worthwhile? ‘ “She may not offer it, but I doubt she would find issue with such idea.” Which, for the life of her, how Mag and Ari had become friends so quickly, Aspel was still at a loss to understand. Yet, Mag had always been friendly, as had Ari, so really she shouldn’t have expected anything else when the two finally met. The kiss was returned, no search for anything significant, aside from the simple affection offered. “Is that so?” Aspel’s tone had lightened slightly with - in her perception - almost playful stating of ‘facts’. With a smile a bit saddened by the thought of attempting sleep, especially with how Ari seemed to want to help a low “Mm.” was given before a soft kiss was pressed to the other woman’s forehead. “Please do try.” If the bard wanted it, then who was Aspel to tell her no? Aside from the fact that the idea of a good night’s sleep, a dreamless slumber, seemed an impossible blessing after the many nights she’d faced of late. That was all the permission Ari required (to tell the truth, she had been prepared to do it even without permission, but this way seemed less likely to lead to another argument). She smoothed her hand over Aspel’s forehead pushing her hair out of the way, then her cheeks, a trail of fingers over her nose, a press of her pointer finger for a moment against the other woman’s lips. “Why don’t you close your eyes, then?” When Aspel had done as she asked (really, Ari thought, being biddable wasn’t a bad thing in some circumstances), the bard began to sing, her voice soft, as gentle as her touch had been. It was such a small thing, to sing a lullaby. But as she watched Aspel’s body relax, her breathing deepening, Ari felt the stirrings of something like happiness (though perhaps that wasn’t the word for it; it was far too bittersweet for such a simple word). She sang it three times through, this song meant for battle but used far more often in other situations. When the final notes faded out, Aspel lay still, her face relaxed. Ari stood then, dragged the blanket up over the other woman (she didn’t move) and, after a moment of thought, turned off the light, shucked her clothing onto the floor, and climbed under the blanket, too. No doubt Aspel would be up early enough that she’d still make it to rehearsal on time, and for now, perhaps she could borrow a bit of comfort, too. She was smiling faintly as she once again snuggled up, nudged Aspel’s leg with her foot until she was satisfied with the space she had claimed, and closed her eyes. |