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[Feferi's gray skin looks pale as she steps forward, and it's clear that she's shaking. But she takes a deep breath, because this is too important not to tell everyone.]

My name is Feferi Peixes. Anyone who knows me knows I'm infamous for fish puns, but I'm going to hold off on them here, just so the message is as clear as possible. I don't want it to get twisted by a bad turn of phrase.

The message you all saw about the soul thing...it's true. I know, because...

[She takes another deep breath, swallowing hard.]

I went down the elevator, with some others, when we saw it open. We had to take the chance. We needed to know what was down there.

When the group I was with saw a soul being extracted from a dead person, we couldn't believe what we were seeing. More than anything, we knew what a precious thing that was. We didn't want it to be harmed, and so we followed where the retrieval unit was taking it.

...we didn't expect that it would be carrying the soul straight to Jason. We confronted him, we refused to give up the presence of the other groups that were in the administrators' area, and he punished us by forcing us to go through the soul extraction and re-implantation processes while we were still conscious.

Before I go on any further, I have to stress this point: DO NOT TAKE THIS AS AN INVITATION TO CONFRONT JASON. He will not hesitate to put you through that process, and no one should ever have to experience a thing like that. I don't want anyone to consider this as an invitation to take some kind of vengeance. That path only leads to pain.

I didn't think that he was actually capable of anything close to mercy until I went through that. Everyone in this tower has been through it while unconscious, and that is truly a mercy. When it happens, your body is taken downstairs and placed into a sphere. That sphere fills with a violet liquid, and then it begins to contract.

[Tears start to run down her cheeks as she remembers, and her voice cracks.]

It quite literally squeezes your soul out of your body, and that is like no physical pain in this or any other universe. I don't think there is a single word that is capable of describing it. Agony isn't strong enough, because the pain keeps going while you feel your body stop working.

And even when you are only that shining light, the pain doesn't fade immediately. It takes time.

Then, you're surgically put into - into a...a new body. I...

[She can't keep talking. She breaks down sobbing, and then the feed cuts.]

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[A small nod, with another slight shake of the shoulders. He doesn't like the reminders, not at all.]

I wish I could forget.

[And now that he's started talking about it, it's... hard to not just spill everything out. But this is Guy, who has no reason to care; Guy, who had gotten from that replication a Luke that he actually liked.

His voice resumes its clinical tone.]

The process is more refined now. Less painful. But seven years ago... It was forbidden, so no one had yet put the effort into making it humane.

[There's a flicker of discomfort across Guy's face, hands sliding to his hips. Talking about this with Asch wasn't ever exactly on his list of things to do, and his first thought leans toward the redhead focusing on the negative out of bad habit more than anything else. Make him the victim, make him the one to feel sorry for.

But bias is trumped by the lack of a complaint in his voice. For as disturbed as he appears to be, Asch's words are coming with a neutral precision, as if he's detatching himself from what he's saying.

His brow furrows.]

And they just happened to use a kid as their test subject, regardless of the consequences. Just so long as they had a good enough product.

[...

He shifts a bit, his tone softening at the edges.]

I'm sorry. It must have been hard on you.

The consequences were what they were going for. Luke was just a distraction to keep anyone from taking back Van's real prize.

[That is, himself.

The sympathy is unexpected - his gaze had been drifting downward, but at Guy's words, his head snaps up. Automatic anger, covering his weaknesses - ]

Hard on me? Do you know the first thing about it? What it felt like, being strapped to that machine, for days on end, unable to do anything but experience the pain of having a part of myself ripped out, over and over until a stable replica was made?

[His arms, wrapped around his chest, tighten slightly. He's saying too much, but he can't stop it from coming out now. The anger slips out of his voice slowly, the words instead becoming again shaky and uncertain.]

All I wanted was for it to end. But it never did, not for longer than a few hours. And when it finally did, when I saw them carrying the completed replica off -

[He chokes, just slightly, and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block it out. It doesn't work, it never does, and his voice goes just a hair quieter.]

I thought he was my corpse. That everything they put me through had finally killed me. I felt... so empty, that I had to have died. It was a relief.

And yet you don't look very relieved right now.

[He doesn't need to guess why. That process Asch is describing sounds so eerily similar to what the grey-skinned grl had just repeated over the network. To be ripped from yourself, over and over, with no way to stop it. No matter how much you screamed or struggled or begged. Even as an adult, that would have such scarring effects on the soul, wouldn't it? And for a child...

Guy straightens himself up a bit, taking glances at the few passersby before stepping forward and putting a hesitant hand against Asch's shoulder.]

You're alive now, though. Whether you thought you should have been or not. They could have killed you. They could have thrown you away. But you're still here.

[He pauses, giving a nod to a room right down the hall.]

Come on. No need to pass out in the hall or anything. You can have a few minutes to yourself, at least.

[There's a slight shudder. It's the hand on his shoulder that Asch reacts to first; he leans into it slightly, putting some pressure against Guy's hand. Even as he does, his expression contradicts that little bit of comfort and turns sour.]

Everyone else did throw me away, in case you're forgetting.

[It might be a jab, but if it is, it's jabbing at air, attacking just for the sake of attacking. Asch has no objections to being lead down the hall, but he will actually have to be lead - nothing in the processing center is working well enough to actually get him moving on his own.]

And I'm not going to pass out.

[Guy's grip tightens, the knuckle of his thumb pressing painfully against Asch's shoulder.]

And I'm not forgetting. Talk to your parents. Talk to Natalia. Hell, talk to the soldiers you command. No one just goes and throws away someone that's worth remembering.

[Himself included. The remembrances.... well, they didn't have to be good. But Asch was making an overstatement, and Guy's words would probably go straight through his ears. He lets out a sigh, turning towards his room and tucking his hand against the God-General's shoulder as he does so.]

Then stop looking like you're going to pass out. People might stare.

But they did.

[It's equal parts vehement and pained. Asch doesn't even make a token objection to being lead to Guy's room, just shuffling slightly as he walks in whatever direction he's prodded in. At least his feet are paying attention, Guy.]

As long as they have someone to call "Luke," they're happy. My parents, Natalia... They all look at me and see a Luke that's years gone.

[Not the person he is now. There's no value in ashes. ]

And you think they did that on purpose?

[He makes a noncommittal noise, hand grasping at the entrance to his bedroom and pushing it open. No one around, thank god. Count your blessings for a little while, Asch.

His other hand, meanwhile, doesn't leave the redhead's shoulder.]

They didn't know any better. They had no reason to know any better. If they had known you were still out there, they would have searched for you every day until they found you. You know that. Do you not see how Natalia looks at you, how she talks to you--? She might not have everything set straight. But a Luke that's grown up differently is still a Luke to her, regardless of what's happened to him. Does that not mean anything to you?

She hasn't had the time to learn about you. Neither have your parents. Neither has anyone else. And if you just let them get by with the idea that "they have a Luke", then all you're doing is talking yourself into this idea that you're trash. Regardless of what ideas have been put into your head or what you've lost for however long you've been "useless".

[He grimaces, his gaze cold.]

You could at least try to make it different.

[He's just slightly shaking his head as Guy talks, trying to find the words, because Guy doesn't get it and Asch doesn't know how to make him understand. It never occurs to him that he's the one making very little sense.]

Yes, they would have searched. Searched forever for their sacrifice, to make sure that everything goes as planned - I was born because they needed me to die.

[Everything arranged precisely to ensure his birth, with royal-red hair - his mother should have never had children, with her health, but that had never mattered. Never did a single person matter, in the face of the Score.]

He and I are exactly the same that way.

[And Guy, if you can't figure out who that pronoun refers to... yeah, really bro.]

[Guy's temper flares at Asch's words. With a swift tug to turn Asch towards him, the blonde delivers a fierce slap across the younger man's face.]

You are not the same.

You were born simply because you were meant to be born. That's it. Damn the Score - you're not dead now, and neither is Luke, so that life of sacrifice you may have been used to is worth nothing. It isn't worth it. Luke was created to take your place, but he was still born because he was meant to be born. Call it fate or destiny or dumb luck, but you two aren't here just to be tools for some grander purpose...!

[Asch recoils - barely - and brings a hand slowly up towards his cheek. What is it with you an smacking him when he's down, Guy?]

..Tell me how I'm wrong, then. Tell me how either of us was born for a reason other than to be used until we died.

[Because you don't seem to get it with just words, Asch. You have this nasty habit of not listening when you're mad. Just like your father.]

So that your mother, despite all her illness, could finally hold her firstborn and sole heir and know that he was her flesh and blood, and that he would be capable of great things.

So that you could just live, that you could be kids and learn and grow, even if it was under limited situations.

And right now? It was so you could stand in defiance of that damned prophecy that said you were nothing more than a date leading to death and do something about it. Not for anyone else's sake.

Hell, Asch, that's what you've been doing this whole time! You haven't been working for Van, or for us, or for anyone else. You've been yourself, not being used or misguided outside moments of weakness. You cannot think of yourself so low.

[The words are nearly spat out, Guy nearly mortified and disgusted by the fact that this was what Asch really thought of both of them in the end. Tools.

Maybe he and Luke really were the same, in that respect.]

[And, just a little, some of the anger drains. Asch slumps slightly - his own skeleton is barely holding him up, so maybe he should be directed to the bed.

His voice is a quiet, lifeless murmur.]

You don't have any idea.

[He wants - he's desperate to believe in those words, but he can't. Even as Luke, his value was in what he could do for other people, for Kimlasca; his power, or his status, but there was never a value in him simply existing.

And now that existing is all he has, he doesn't know what to do. Hanging at his sides, his fingers curl up slightly, not quite balling into fists.]

You always had value.

[Guy stands in contrast; straight, cold and silent, supporting Asch's slumping weight but not moving forward.

He had value as a small child. He was an heir. He was a brother. He was a noble. He had his family pride.

But he'd lost that.

At the manor, he really wasn't much different. He was a servant. He was valued for what he could do for others, how quickly, how well, how obediently. His value in himself plummeted every time he saw that sword hanging in the foyer and knowing that he couldn't do anything but wait.

Van saw his worth as a master. Pere saw his worth as a person. But for Guy, that was only evident because they were the only strong links he held. Did the Fabres value him? Not past the level of any other worker.

And now... even his value for Luke was tipping to and fro, as the boy gained his own independence bit by bit. For seven years Guy DID have someone who valued him and found him necessary. Now...

...]

No. Not always. Just like you always haven't just been something for someone to use. But no one is going to be worth something every day of their lives - that's selfish thinking. Sometimes, existing is all you can do. Sometimes, that's all you can do for a while.

But that doesn't have to be where it stops.

[No, Guy, you were never "any other worker." The evidence of that is right in front of you, as Asch tips forward slowly against Guy's support. Even with seven years and all the bad blood between them - for that moment, Asch puts his trust in Guy.

He's crying, and he doesn't even seem to realize it.]

Then what the hell am I supposed to do...?

[The tears are a surprise. It's uncomfortable, but Guy does shift his support, wrapping his arms stiffly around Asch's shoulders with a palm firmly against his head. It's a bit tense, as he's expecting the redhead to snap back at any second. But if he's already started to cry, then his worries for that aren't as horrid as they normally could be.]

Keep moving. And have a bit of goddamn faith in your own self, and in the people around you. Trust us that we don't expect you to be anything but what you choose to be.

[...

His arms squeeze a bit, a sharp exhale through the nose against Asch's shoulder.]

...other than that, I can't tell you what to do. I'm sorry.

[Almost as soon as there are arms around him, Asch slumps his weight against Guy, his forehead on the blond's shoulder. He makes a slight noise when Guy squeezes him, and as with the tears, he doesn't seem entirely aware of it.]

Well, that's helpful.

[At least it seems to have cheered him up a little, if that light punch to Guy's gut - more a formality than anything - is any indication. Asch doesn't make any other effort to move, though.]

Well... you're welcome.

[It's quiet and neutral, just a hint of that sheepish behavior slipping into his tone. He's just as confused as Asch about what to do right now, and the fact that Asch isn't even attempting to move is awkward.

There's a long silence before Guy finally guides with his arms, wordlessly guiding Asch to the bed as he slips out of the embrace and lets Asch's weight rest down against the mattress.]

Rest for a couple minutes, alright? [He shrugs lightly.] Sleep, think, stare at the wall, whatever you need to do. I'll make sure you have your privacy until you can get your head back together.

Okay, Asch?

[Luckily for Guy, he's still letting himself be lead around, far too emotionally wrung out to protest anything too strongly - including Guy's leaving. Asch just sits on the bed for a few minutes, kind of absently reaching up to straighten his tabard where it got crumpled against Guy's chest.]

...Thanks.

[He gives a curt nod, an attempt at a smile flickering forward before his expression slips straight back to that contemplative neutral.]

...No problem.

[He turns on his heel, slowly striding back to the room door and casually swinging it open as he calls back over his shoulder:]

Just knock if you need anything.

[And with that, he slips out and lets the door shut with a loud click, keeping his shoulders to the back of the door and his face down. Hopefully Asch would just have his time to reorganize his thoughts and leave; perhaps they could move on as they pleased after that.

Because at this very moment, Guy was not sure what exactly had happened... or if he was happy or angry or disappointed that he'd let himself do what he just did for the God-General. He wasn't sure, and it was that confusion that lingered in his stomach, keeping him leaning up against the doorway with arms tightly crossed over his chest.

To offer help... it seemed like the right thing to do. Right?

Mnnh. He hated him. Not in the way he hated his father. But he didn't enjoy being around him. But at the same time, this had just happened, and Guy had played along with it, and....

He exhales sharply with a grimace, head leaning back with a thud against the door. What the hell was he supposed to do with this kid?]

[Practically as soon as Guy is out of the room, Asch sprawls across the bed, all pretenses thrown down the staircase. He curls up on himself not long after, pulling Guy's pillow into his chest and squeezing it.

The nostalgia of the scent is powerful and calming; Guy's smell is on of the manor, with all the old comfort and familiarity that implies. It's a reminder of easier, ignorant days spent running through the gardens of the manor and studying for the day that he would sit on the throne beside Natalia. It's the scent of home, and right now he is very grateful for it.

[It's a good half hour later that Asch finally knocks on the door before putting a hand to the doorknob to let himself out. His expression is mostly under control now, a thin layer of neutral dislike for the universe at large on his face. There's no much evidence of the last hour or so about him at all, really, just a slight aspect of disarray to his hair, as though he'd pushed his bangs back again in a hurry just enough to make them presentable.]

...Sorry for the trouble.

Don't worry about it.

[It's an automatic response, Guy not really facing the God-General as he exits. He's still too caught up in his own thoughts, and a bit too relieved that Asch is finally leaving with his normal grumpy self intact.

...

There's an awkward pause, before Guy shuffles a bit and straightens himself up with a cough.]

Take care of yourself.

...You too.

[It's not quite as awkward as Guy's, but definitely awkward enough. Asch doesn't say anything more as he walks past Guy to go up and around the stairs to his own room; he's not together enough to deal with the inevitable aftermath of that conversation.

So... Yep, just going to go to his room now. Later, Guy.]

[He glances up for a second to watch that flash of red hair go stalking back down the hall, before letting out a long breath and going back into his room.

Go do whatever you want and leave him to his confusions. He has a bed to fix up, apparently.

...

But... yeah. See ya, Asch.]

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nine ♓ video;

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TARDY PARTY so much for godspeed amirite

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I don't think I have any crying icons sob

that is ok i will pretend

good because one belongs here. Have my hilariously inappropriate icon instead

BELKEND MAKES ASCH SAD

KEYWORDS I GUESS the actual icon is still not appropriate

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1/2

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lol I think we're done