belief over misery

“She was strict kind, and she had so many neat tricks for kneading dough! Even now, I don’t think I can do it as quickly as she could.” He hums, touching his chin. “I remember she always told me that a recipe is useful, but experienced cooks listen to their hearts when adding ingredients. She’d never let me try of course, but I loved watching her work.”

He likes to hold onto those memories rather than the bad ones. Those memories are the ones he could share with his siblings.

    ♫ Dorothea left a pause before she could muster a reply to the young man. The battle for Fhirdiad had so recently been burned in her memories that it truly was easy to see him as a ghost, but there was already enough she didn’t understand about her current circumstances. 

“An explanation… I suppose that’s necessary. Some tea might be nice as well.” If anything the drink might serve to soften her nerves a little in the face of uncertainty. His demeanor, at least, seemed different from the burning city. She couldn’t blame that Ashe, who had lost essentially everyone he’d gone to the academy with including Dimitri.

“It’s been a very long day…”

He nods, relieved. Ashe wouldn’t have blamed her if she fled or attacked or...well, any manner of other reactions she might’ve had. Even just a few months after the war when he’d arrived his nerves were still singed with the sting of it, dreams still permeated by a weeping conscious. Even now, it sometimes came when least expected. And so, he takes her back to his place. He considered a proper tea shop, but figured the privacy of home might be better. It’s clean and somewhat plain at  first glance, but upon closer inspection there are little accents of flowering plants, a few picture frames, and the quiet scent of lilac. If one was thorough, they might see pictures of classmates in unfamiliar garb--Petra, Dedue, Annette, specifically. But the rooms are just dimly lit enough that unless you looked at them closely, those images might’ve been a trick of the eye. They arrive in the dining room, where he pulls out a seat for her.   “It shouldn’t take long. I hope apple tea is alright,” a pause and a shaky sigh, “Thank you for indulging me this.” he doesn’t know if it’s the favorite of this Dorothea as well, but it’s what he has left. Ashe makes a mental note to go out and get more. He leaves the room with the gait of someone that wants to hurry but also doesn’t want to frighten a nervous rabbit.  He makes two trips back--the first with modest teaware (small plates for nibbling, teacups). It’s all adorned white with violets and looks at first glance very expensive, but on closer inspection something feels...fake about it, not quite hand-made. Despite this, they were some of Ashe’s favorite possessions. He makes a final return with a pot of steaming tea and a white and violet-accented tray of tiny sandwiches.and butter cookies. Going on to pour her a cup, Ashe focuses on the smell and warmth of the drink to calm himself down.

“I have to admit, things here aren’t very much like home at all. But if you look closely, sometimes you can find little things that are almost like it.” he pours his own cup before settling down across from her. A silence settles between them. He can’t help it--everytime someone arrived, it was like all of his homesickness and worries came flooding back. His siblings, Gaspard, the people who needed him to be there. Were they alright? Ashe wasn’t naive enough to expect total peace after such a violent war--he knew what the death of loved ones could do to someone’s heart. He curls his fingers around a warm cup, blowing on it.  

          “Slow down.” Said with little bite and a touch wary. Experiencing genuine concern from strangers is still new and wholly strange. “But yeah, just showed up like not even an hour ago. ‘m not gonna say no to free food though. It is free right?”

Ashe doesn’t miss out on the tone, and realizes perhaps he was a bit too forward. Ashe steps back, sheepish, just to give the other more space in case that would help.

“I’d feel wrong offering food to a stranger and making them pay for it, especially right after arriving.” it wasn’t exactly an easy transition, after all. “My name is Ashe, and I run a little tavern not far from here.” he’s relieved that it’s closed for the day; the last thing this boy probably needs is the presence of a bunch of strangers. 

@halfaknight​ liked for a starter ♫

   ♫ “Ashe? Ashe Ubert? Is that really you?” From Dorothea’s perspective this was shocking. She’d yet to meet any of her classmates from Garreg Mach just yet and that lent itself to part of it. However… there was something more. In the battle within the Fhirdiad set ablaze he had been there supporting Lady Rhea. Surely she wasn’t misremembering… He’d been slain, hadn’t he?

It cast a heavy shadow on her heart much like the other deaths had, but that was the cost of war she’d known was true all along.

“How… is this possible? You…” She had to compose herself a moment. “No, I’m sorry. Perhaps it’s a mistake for us to speak…”

Ah. Ashe is surprised at first, more than he wanted to be. More than he thought he’d be. It had been some time since he’d come across Dorothea, hadn’t it? That would explain the sight before him now, the confusion he heard in her voice. The dead, hesitant regret in her posture and tone. The Dorothea he knew was gone, and the one before him likely saw a stranger. Perhaps even a corpse.  

“I imagine you must be tired and confused, but I promise I’m no ghost, or...whatever it is you must be thinking right now.” he gives her a little time to process that. He doesn’t hold the sentiment against her, though he frets at all the unknowns that stand between them. Between everyone at the academy. He’d been lucky, and only seen one of his comrades die. 

@halfaknight​​ liked for a starter.

“How long has this battle been raging?”

Inquisitively she glanced to the young man, the back of her hand lightly touching the forehead of another poor soul who had been caught up in the onslaught of monsters. They had been lucky to escape with their life, though they would need further medical attention if they were to keep it. Opherryn was no healer, but if a makeshift shelter could be set up away from the sight of the invading force, first aid could be administered. And the one whom she spoke to…

Dark hues appraised they grey-haired young man, patiently awaiting a response. He looked not worse for wear– At least, not like the person she was tending to. But internal woulds, mental or physical, could not be seen by even a god’s eye.

“–And are you at all hurt? I would be glad to assist you as I can, though we must first escort this one away from the field.”

Ashe shifts weight to lean just the slightest on his wyvern, a gray draconic creature with large, slit pupils trained on the stranger. She growls softly and flutters her four, short wings making no sound, scratching the one white horn on the left side of her head with a clawed paw. There appeared to be a second horn if you looked closely, but it had been badly damaged at some point, the dead bone not yet healed.  He sighs in both relief and exhaustion.  “Days. M-maybe weeks. I’m not sure, I’m afraid.” he pushes hair back with a gloved hand, revealing a haggard gaze. It sometimes lost focus, as if he were seeing something else than what was in front of him. Despite that, Ashe’s expression maintains a stubborn, albeit weak, smile. Even in the midst of this, he couldn’t allow himself to show too much weakness.