Mag Paget, Shotgun Knight (clippedwing) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-06-14 09:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, aspel cassul, magnolia paget |
Now I think we're taking this too far, don't you know that it's not this hard?
Who: Aspel & Mag
What: Being stubborn, and mending a friendship.
Where: The Armory.
When: Aspel's birthday (5/31)
Rating: PG-13 (some swearing)
Status: Complete!
Mag could think of many words to describe the weeks of avoidance following her row with Aspel, none of them flattering; she had spent those weeks in the transition from anger to frustration to downright exasperation, and waking up at dawn on Aspel’s birthday she spent the first hour of her day sitting in her kitchen, tapping the outside of the coffee mug in her hand with her index finger as an alternative to pacing in the reduced space. That they had spent so long without talking to each other (though Mag could not say she was looking forward to another possible row, which may well be triggered if they did speak) was dumb; that Aspel’s birthday might go by without a single exchange was preposterous. Pounding down the door of The Armory was the first option that occurred to her, and quickly discarded as unadvisable; but perhaps, it needed only to be refined. There was nothing to soothe rattled nerves like flying, and so an hour later she was in front of the smithy with two coupons which they could exchange for an hour on a hoverbike in a closed circuit. Her fist was raised to knock when she remembered the existence of the doorbell and, in what she hoped was a show of good faith, made that Plan A. The doorbell being rung was unexpected. In fact so much so, that it nearly startled Aspel right off of her own couch as she’d been laying there as she read. Frowning, a huff of air was given, the book coming to rest - pages open - over her face in frustration for a moment as she considered the options at hand. The smith could ignore the ringing, hope the person would leave without interrupting her again. Though, who could it be? If it was a customer for The Armory they may not leave until she spoke with them, or it could be someone sent to notify her of council business, or…. Sighing, the book was removed from her face, and placed open on the coffee table so that she could return to it with ease after taking care of whatever business may lay in wait for her below. The trip between her apartment, and the shop downstairs was short - now that she wasn’t on the brink of bleeding out, and broken in nearly a dozen places anymore - and what she noticed standing on the other side of the glass caused her to give pause a few feet back before reaching the door. Why in Faram’s name was Mag here once more? Though the other side of her mind instantly piped up to argue. She hadn’t really thought Mag would be so easily deterred, had she? Somewhere, somehow, she had hoped against hope that the other woman would know better, would understand, but… It appeared she was wrong once again. Shifting, Aspel made her way over to the door, clearing her throat as she opened it, with a slight bow of her head. “Good morn.” It was as good a greeting as any, Mag supposed; she certainly had no idea how best to start the conversation, now that she was here. “Morning, Aspel,” she said. Then, with a deep breath, she launched into her pitch that she had been rehearsing in the back of her mind since waking up that morning. “I don’t want to fight on your birthday, I want to spend time with you. Today at least, don’t tell me I’m better off without you and I should go. I bought these.” She held up the coupons for the hoverbike track. “So let’s go, okay?” She prayed that Aspel would accept—that this time, there would be no attempted noble sacrifices, no venting of uncomfortable truths, or that at least these could be saved until later, so they could bridge the distance they’d allowed to appear. Honestly, the smith hadn’t a single idea on what the hell to expect. Maybe Mag was going to chew her out, maybe the other woman was going to apologize (what for, Aspel hadn’t a clue), or try to logic out the situation with her, or…. Faram knew what. Though, when Mag launched, Aspel steeled - one flew, one steadied her stance - and waited for whatever it was to come. Then… Came the admission, and the tickets, and… Eyes closed, jaw tightening, and a definite tiredness that aged her settled over her features with a sigh. “I have asked you to leave.” Now though, her voice was weaker, softer, a little more beaten back, Aspel just didn’t have it in her to fight today - it showed in her features, and in her tone of voice -, and honestly, she was beginning to wonder if she had it in her to fight anymore at all. “Fuck that,” Mag said at once. “If you’re going to be stubborn, I’ll be even more stubborn. I’ll come every day. But this is only for today.” She glanced down at the coupons, and with a small smile, “Can’t afford to buy this stuff every day, since you haven’t raised my salary yet.” A huff of air crossed with a heavy sigh, and eyes open but do not look up. “Mag, please.” Aspel’s voice cracked just a little with the two words. After the fight last month, the talks with Jareth, and the fight just the week before… It’s getting harder every day. The voices, the snickers, the looks, and snide comments in her direction don’t help either. This all on top of her duties with the council adding burden upon burden on her plate. It all reminds her how weak she really is. Why she joined the Guard in the first place. Why she stayed on the road for so long. There was no commitments, no one to be responsible for aside from herself, and those who traveled with her, yet even then, they all knew that they were likely to die. “I…” Eyes finally raise, noticing the coupons being waved. “Take Kiernan.” It felt like she was ripping her own heart out of her chest. Every rejection she tried to make sound solid, but each time she tried it failed. Mag shook her head. “This is not about Kiernan. He’s not the one who has a birthday today.” Come to think of it, she did not even know if he knew how to drive a hoverbike―but that was a thought for another time. “I want to go with you, Aspel.” “I did not say it was, I said to take him.” Aspel nearly felt like pleading with Mag, to ask her to please go away, to please not make this any harder than it already was, to please…. Maybe she just ought to give up. Leaving felt exhausting, and staying did too. Maybe just… Drinking herself into an alcohol poisoned death would be easier than any of this mess. “Please Mag, go.” “No, I won’t,” Mag said. She had expected resistance—and this time, she was not going to back down. “Please, Aspel. Listen, we don’t have to go use these if you don’t want to, we can do something else. I just want to celebrate my best friend’s birthday with her.” “I asked you to go.” Why did this have to be so damn hard? Why did Aspel suddenly feel like nothing more than an old, scratched record that was about to be thrown in the trash? Why did…. A hand came up, fingers rubbing at the bridge of her nose for a moment before she sighed. She really had missed Mag, had missed curling up on the couch with the other woman, missed their banter, missed drinks, and dinner, and talks, and… Her jaw locked up. “Please go.” Shifting, Aspel moved to close the door. Mag stuck her foot out. “I’d rather you didn’t close the door on that,” she said, and thought of Kamon in her doorway pleading with her, several months ago. “My ankle just healed.” She did not think Aspel would―but before her friend found another way out of the situation, Mag said, “Listen, I don’t want to be like this anymore. I hate not seeing you and I hate the tea table in my living room, I never realised it was that ugly until it didn’t have your piles of paperwork all over it. So let’s just put this behind us, okay?” A huff of air was let out when Mag’s foot was stuck in the door. Aspel should have known better than to try to go about things this way, but she’d really hoped it would just… Somehow work. Even if it didn’t make a bit of sense. Shifting, she didn’t force the door, but she didn’t open it any further either as her other hand came up to run through her hair. What could she do? What should she do? Though, the comment about Mag just being healed seemed to jerk the smith out of her beaten down attempt at fending off the other woman. Pausing a moment, she shifted, pulling the door open so she could get a better overall look at Mag instead of the brief glimpses she’d taken before. “When did you break your ankle?” Concern was in her voice then, eyes searching for anything else that might be wrong with the other woman… Though, knowing Mag and her… Problems, injuries would be hard to find unless there was blood, or the Dragoon stripped down naked in front of her. The other point about the table, or it’s degree of ugliness was left alone, lost and ignored with the concern that took precedence over anything else she could think of, or try to do in this time. “In the fight a little over a weight back. I was up against the crazy ice lady.” (As long as they’re talking about injuries, Mag figures, they’re not arguing about whether she should go or not. It’s a small victory.) “I got a little roughed up, but I was in a clinic for a while and I’m okay now. I had my last checkup yesterday.” It took a moment for Aspel’s mind to place what Mag was talking about. How did all of these fights seem so close yet so far away? Maybe her brain had stopped separating the times in which she almost died, or had died. Really, when it was becoming the norm more than the exception, did it even make sense to keep track anymore? If not for a quick Sanguine Sword attack on an Elemental, she would have been unconscious and bleeding out with Jareth too when Ari and Drake arrived, if not dead once more. “How long?” Why hadn’t she thought to check in on Mag…? What kind of friend… Right. She had been recovering, and also, she had been trying to take care of the guild, and herself, and…. Trying to figure out what to do with her life as a whole since it seemed like nothing was going to go right in any of it ever. “Which clinic?” A panic tightened her chest. She couldn’t live like this. With Mag, without Mag. She was miserable both ways, wasn’t she? "Commoners'. They let me go after a day there, and I've been resting up at home since then." And all that time, she had been wondering if Aspel had been similarly injured, or much worse (as she tended to be), and checking her communicator all the time, wondering if she should call or message her. "It wasn't so bad. Kiernan brought me food, and he and Lav fussed over me for days on end." A beat, a sort of relief sinking in to her mind, and heart that would reflect in Aspel’s posture. “I am glad.” Another pause. “I am certain they will take good care of you.” A nod was given to Mag’s foot. “If you could remove it now, please.” And really, Aspel was desperately hoping the other woman would, though it was starting to seem like all her hopes may be in vain yet. This was not a fight she was on the winning side for so far, and well… Mag was a smart woman, she knew when she had the upper hand. "I could, yes, but I won't," Mag said stubbornly. She was certain Aspel would not try to shut the door with her foot there, but if she did, an ankle seemed a small price to pay for an attempt to repair their friendship. "And I love Kiernan and Lav to bits, but I miss you, Aspel. Let's not fight anymore, okay?" Faram damn all. “We are not fighting.” Her voice was low, pained. “I asked you to leave, to be well.” I wished you would not gain the sickness that infests me. Aspel’s jaw tightened, the door was not closed, but it was not opened either, a standstill as they were seemed the best compromise either could make right in that moment. “Why will you not respect my wish?” Mag gave her a wry smile. "Because you won't respect mine," she said. "You keep saying I'm better off without you, but you don't seem to care that that's not what I want." She crossed her arms. “You seem to miss the point that I must be able to live with what I cause people to endure as well.” And really, in the end, that was the problem that Aspel was coming up against. Others could make all the decisions in the world, decide left or right what choices they made, but it didn’t mean the person it was related to wouldn’t make themselves sick with misery over what they had caused as well. “I’m not missing that point,” Mag said. “You want to protect me, or something like that. But I’m already miserable being the way we are now. I’d rather risk whatever it is you’re protecting me from.” “Then you disregard it.” Which Mag’s very next statement proved she didn’t understand at all. Protection was a part of this, yes, but also having to watch Mag be discriminated against was something Aspel wasn’t sure she could endure as well. At the end of the day, she had to be sure she could live with herself as well, and that was getting harder, and harder to do with each passing day. “Please Mag, leave.” Mag shook her head. "I won't. I left, when we fought a few weeks ago, and I regretted it after. So this time, I'm staying." A small smile appeared on her face. "I'll argue with you all day if I have to, but that seems like a shitty way to spend your birthday, so you might as well save yourself the trouble and give in." Aspel’s jaw tightened, that defeated frustration in her eyes starting to melt away into something more stubborn, and rigid. “I will not have this argument upon my doorstep. Remove your foot now before I am forced to…” The threat died in her throat. Even though she knew the end of it, it wasn’t something she could realistically say, could realistically do because in the end, Aspel Cassul was weak. She always was. “Remove your foot before I am…” Strike two. “Before I…” A hard swallow, and the smith could feel herself getting near the brink of tears regardless of how much she tried to school her face. “Mag, just… Please… Go.” And in the end her words sounded more like a plea than a demand, because that was all Aspel really had left now. "I told you, I can't." Mag shook her head once again. "I'm sorry, but I care more about getting my best friend back than getting my ankle broken again." ...And if only that was what Aspel had thought at all. In fact, with Mag’s admission, it made the smith feel even more guilty regarding what her real thoughts had been on the matter just seconds before. However, even with that guilt, Aspel would not back down, and depression warred with anger inside of her, going back and forth with the other woman until anger, and a mild paranoia, finally started winning out as the smith’s volume began to raise as they spoke. “Get in.” The door was shoved open, as Aspel reached to grasp at Mag’s forearm, and attempted to yank the other woman into the forge. “I am not having this conversation in an alley.” Anger flared, and there was a tinge of dark lingering in the words she spoke as well before the door was slammed closed behind the other woman. Mag kept the smile from her face and let herself be dragged inside. She did not miss the anger in Aspel's manner, but as far as she was concerned, being admitted inside the shop was a minor victory, the first step in winning the argument. "We can have it in here," she said as the door closed behind her. "Or you could just agree to come with me already so we can celebrate your birthday." “We will have it here.” There was a furious grate to her words, her accent not helping them in the least. “You do not understand a word I say, and I will not have it.” Her volume had risen more. Aspel wasn’t yelling yet, but at this rate, it wouldn’t be all that far off. “I may try to protect you, but I also have to live with the fall out you incur as well, this is as much about me trying to figure out what I can live with as it is about you!” But Mag did not back down; her own temper was again beginning to rise. "So you're pushing me away so I'm not discriminated against for being friends with a Fell. So then I have to stay away from you, and then to make the most of your honorable sacrifice--and thank you for that, by the way--I need to never ever be close with anyone even remotely associated with Fell Knighthood, so basically shun them so I don't risk liking them, is that it?" Her voice was louder now, too. "Well, fuck that plan, because that's not the way I plan to live my life." “Once more you do not listen.” Her volume dropped, but the words held more of a simmering anger now, which was perhaps even more dangerous than the explosive outbursts she had been starting to head towards before. “I do not concern myself regarding your other relations, but you suffering due to my poor life choices is not something I am certain I can personally live with myself for.” It was the best way Aspel could explain it as she tried to reign in her - rarely provoked - temper. “I would need to live with the discrimination you suffer, because of your relations with me. I will need to know that because of my own stupidity that you will be denied services, that because of me people will whisper, gossip, and toss dirty looks in your direction. I would need to be able to be comfortable with the knowledge that through your association with me, your life would be harder, and the truth is, I am not.” Her jaw tightened. “I love you, Mag. And due to that, I want your life to be as easy, and content as possible. Your maintaining a friendship with me will hamper the ease of that.” Privately, Mag thought it was an overreaction, but she did not say this; instead, she answered, "I know you want the best for me, because that's what I want for you too. Maybe you're right and I will run into some discrimination because of that, but I could deal with it because having you as a friend more than compensates for the mean looks and idiotic whispers." Her voice turned softer. "I'm sure you remember all the times we spooked other mercenaries when we were in Ordalia. I remember they were in a rush to put distance between the Fell and themselves after the job was over. But that's all I can remember about them, so they can't be that important. Everything else is you, and," she hesitated for a moment, "Warwick, and all the trouble we used to get into." “They were people we could leave behind, you live here now.” And to Aspel, that made a world of difference. Though, the mention of Warwick would not go unnoticed, or the pain it caused the other woman, but… Wasn’t that a constant? Was that one of the reasons why Mag held onto her? Because the other woman couldn’t let go of the two things that haunted her past, even if one of them was already gone…. "You're right," Mag said. "But honestly, if someone I know here is so ready to forsake others because of a friend's class choice, I don't think I want to know that person anyway. If that's what it'll take to drive them away, then let them go." A heavy huff of air was let out, clearly Mag wouldn’t let this go, obviously she wasn’t going to let this be, wasn’t going to… Move on. Though… A flare of anger shot up within her. This was why Mag hadn’t moved on in many aspects of her life, wasn’t it? The other woman had trouble letting go. “And if I say I cannot stand this anymore?” Mag took a deep breath. "Then I would ask if I could not help make it easier on you, if you let me. Isn't that what friends are for?" She knew what Aspel would say (that she could not let Mag go through that, that it would be better for her to go), and her voice shook as she added, "Please, Aspel. I can't lose you too." Her jaw tightened, a hand rising to let fingers comb through her hair as her head dipped forward. “And if I agree?” Aspel wasn’t sure this was the right thing to do, wasn’t sure if perhaps she was condemning herself, and Mag to a future of misery but… Faram how she missed the other woman, and… If this was what Mag wanted... "Then I'm probably going to hug you and cling to you a good few seconds after the fact," Mag said at once, "and then we can celebrate your birthday however you like, and go back to seeing far too much of each other." “You need to agree to some terms.” A beat as the anger started to slide away, but something deeply serious, determined to some degree even, cropped up within her. “We need to both start dealing with our pasts.” A beat. “This includes Warwick.” Another pause as eyes dragged over Mag. “I have let you mourn, and ignore, and carry on forgetting until you fall apart every year.” Aspel’s tone became a little pained. “And then I watch as it tears you apart.” Swallowing. “It will always hurt, but it need not hurt that much.” The words were careful, said with a specific measure to them, a deep seated concern. “And your class.” The smith stopped, wetting her lips as worry etched itself across her face. “I remain of firm opinion of what I said, that will not change.” Mag closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "I know it will always hurt," she said after a moment. "I know I should let go. But it's scary to think that one day, in the future, the anniversary will roll around and I will be perfectly fine. As if nothing had happened." She had never stated it in those terms before, but she knew it was true. And Aspel was right, in the end. (The memory of Bram having a breakdown in front of her came to mind: both of them, functionally-broken idiots that they were, keeping their voices low to avoid waking Vera in the bedroom.) "I don't know how much I can promise in that regard," she said. The thing she most wanted was to look away, but she forced herself to keep looking at her friend. "But I will make my best effort to stop running away. No matter how much it hurts. That's my promise. But you can't run away, either." “I do not understand why you fear an impossibility.” Maybe it was because Aspel had lost a number of comrades in arms over the course of her seven years with the Onyx Guard, but Mag’s words simply seemed impossible. “With each loss I have ever faced, the pain does not vanish, it simply becomes easier to cope with. It lessens, but it never goes away.” The death of a Guard member had brought her to silent tears more than once in the past, and now - years later - there was still a pin prick of pain in her chest when she remembered them. “And besides, I am not asking you to let go Mag. I am asking you to stop running.” Aspel’s eyes remained on the other woman a moment more before shifting away, finding her own burden of lives lost, and time cheated a hard one to face. Slowly her eyes would raise to meet Mag’s again. “I believe you can do it. If either of us can heal, it will be you.” "If I can, then so can you. We can help each other." She held out her hand. "Deal?" Swallowing, Aspel’s brow furrowed as eyes fell on the hand extended to her. A moment consideration was taken before her eyes turned up towards Mag, no hand extended, at least, not yet. The idea of facing down her problems, the idea of agreeing not to run, the idea of… healing. Was horrifying in its own right. “I do not know if I can.” The constant discord within her own head regarding good and evil, light and dark, holy and fell was a constant struggle, and one she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to pull away from. Aspel was an inherently broken person, just trying to do right. Mag on the other hand though… She had so much more she could go out, could do, could…. Live for. Though… The thought of running away from Emillion - strangely enough - hadn’t occurred as of late, at least not physically, even if emotionally she’d sprinted a marathon or two. “The terms go both ways, Aspel,” Mag said. She thought she had an idea what was running through her friend’s mind. “I don’t know if I can, either, but I’m going to try. Promise me the same, at least?” Aspel’s jaw worked, opening to say something, then closing again without a single word. Several thoughts came to mind ‘I am not that strong’, ‘There is illness within me’, ‘I do not know how’... But none seemed appropriate in this time, even if - in the same instance - they all seemed completely fitting. “We need to stop letting things go with each other.” Instead was said, and while it wasn’t what she thought, it was a step in a direction that Mag would probably like, and hate all at once. Yet Mag could not contradict her; she knew, in the end, it would probably do them good. Had their fight not come because they had been bottling up things for so many years? “That seems fair,” she said finally. “If you have anything to say, I don’t want to find out when we’re shouting at each other.” “For you, I believe I have said the main points of concern. Certainly, I could likely say more, but I feel as though the majority would be reiterations of same aspect of the points before.” Class concerns, Warwick concerns, life concerns…. Wasn’t that always the problem with them though? Though… Aspel shifted, pausing as she wetted her lips. “There is one thing I would like to ask.” A beat as she waited for Mag to urge her on. “If our roles had been reversed - if mind you - how long do you believe Warwick would have allowed you to mourn me?” It hurt too much to think about―but when she thought of what her wyvern’s reaction might have been, she found herself choking out a laugh as she said, “I may have been tolerated for a full week before he set me on fire. Then I would have had to be a lot more discreet about my moping.” She had no doubt it would have gone that way; though the thought of going on with her life without Aspel was unbearable (the reason she had come today), she could not help missing Warwick. Wetting her lips, Aspel’s eyes fell away, a slow, repeated nod being the only action taken for a moment as she mulled over the words. However, it would only be a moment before her face rose, and she spoke. “Then, if I am understanding right, I must simply light you on fire, no?” And those words held all the seriousness she could muster as her gaze leveled on Mag, and one hand came to rest on a hip. “I’m not sure it works that way,” Mag said, still smiling, “though wherever he is, he probably likes you a lot more than he used to just for offering.” She let her hand drop, unconsciously reaching up to touch the back of her shoulders, where the burn scars she had incurred over her time as a Dragon Rider began. “Mm.” There was a smile, a smile where Aspel wasn’t sure she should be happy to see one, but… She would always feel happier when Mag smiled, it was just a curse she was forced to bare. Though, was she condemning the other woman to a life of frustration, and pain for it? Well… Mag did have a say in that… Could she live with it all? “Then we shall call this a start.” It wasn’t a promise to work on getting better, it wasn’t a promise to try, but it was a first step, and perhaps right now, that was the best that Aspel could do. “A start,” Mag repeated. After a moment’s hesitation, she took a step forward and threw her arms around Aspel, as she had promised she would. “Happy birthday, Aspel.” |