making strides

@lionsbow liked for a starter!!

She’s taken a wrong turn, somehow. It’s not as if she’s looking for something in particular, when the amount of information is limitless. There’s much she doesn’t understand about this world. Questions are only answered with more questions. Zelda catalogs as much as she can learn, but… the truth is, learning is interrupted by how much this place reminds her of Hyrule. The ruins of an ancient civilization, technology that seems years and years misplaced.

However…

The room she’s entered… The cryo-preservation chamber. She stares at the bodies of the royal family, stunned into silence. It reminds her of the Shrine of Resurrection. Of Link. Are they alive? Are they… gone?  Though she’s watched Link for the last hundred years, even as he slept… To be face to face with a situation so similar? Zelda’s uncertain of what to feel. It’s unsettling. Resurfacing from her thoughts is when she realizes Ashe has joined her.

A hand reaches out to touch the chamber, but stops in mid-air, “It’s rather… melancholic, isn’t it? Truly, to hide them away down here. It’s… beyond disrespectful and cruel.” Her fingers curl into a light fist, then return to her side. “It’s… hard to imagine who would do this, or why.”

In truth, he wishes he hadn’t followed her down here. Not once he sees the preserved bodies in the containers before them, still as corpses. Ashe can only stare at them for a long moment, a faint hint of nausea rising up within him. He’s unfortunately grown accustomed to seeing the dead, though he doesn’t know if the people they’re looking upon are truly dead or not, trapped as they are, but they certainly look the part to him. No, what unsettles him most is the whole of it: The machines holding them like they’re figures on display, hidden away in this run-down building. It’s not right.

The princess’ words reach his ears on a delay, taking some time to cut through the haze of his thoughts for him to understand she’d been speaking to him. He looks away from the chambers, turning his eyes to her for some reprieve from the sight of frozen bodies. It’s some small comfort that she, too, finds it to be a dreadful sight.

“What is all of this...?” he asks, the machinery being wholly unfamiliar to him. Zelda seems to have some understanding of it, given her reaction to it all; hopefully he isn’t pressing where he shouldn’t. “Why are they... down here? What happened to them?”

Ashe wanders through the seemingly endless rows of headstones in the graveyard, a little knot forming in his throat as he passes each one.

This kingdom is not his, he knows this, but he still turns his eyes to the engravings on every one, as if any will bear names he recognizes. So far none do-- of course they wouldn’t. His friends are far away from here, not buried underground in some ancient graveyard, but the feeling of dread simply refuses to pass. He sees, in some small part, how this could turn into a very cold reality in Faerghus.

( Perhaps it already is, in places he doesn’t see. The war has been going on for so long now. How many have they buried? How many will yet be returned to the earth before it’s won? )

He doesn’t want to think about it, but it lingers regardless. A war isn’t won without bloodshed on both sides, much as he detests it all. Much as he hates to be responsible for shedding so much of that blood. His faith in the church, the kingdom, the prince... it all guides him forward in spite of his upset. For just a moment, looking out over the veritable sea of the dead around him, he feels that faith waver ever so slightly.

copic color headcanonscurrant: what’s something that absolutely disgusts your muse (can be a person, place, thing, ect)?

this feels like the biggest copout imaginable but-- ( cut for very tiny spoilers wrt one of his paired endings & brief mentions of racism )

copic color headcanonsmallow: what sorts of things might remind your muse of those close to them? any scents, objects, sounds? 

i could probably come up with a whole list of little things that would specifically make him think of each individual person in the blue lions + byleth but that would be A Lot i think.

in general, i imagine he still associates stuff like the sound of food cooking with his family, or his parents specifically. something sizzling in a pan, the sound of chopping vegetables, a pot boiling. that sort of thing. he grew up in a restaurant his parents owned, so hearing it always takes him back to his early childhood, at least a little bit. it makes being in the kitchen sort of like being in his comfort zone.

he’d also likely associate the sound of hymns with his time the monastery, though depending on circumstance it’s either nostalgic for his time there at school ( good! ) or in the present during the war ( very complicated! ). who exactly these memories would bring to mind varies.

copic color headcanonscrimson: how passionate is your muse about the things they love most?

ashe is an incredibly passionate person when it comes the things he loves most! he believes in things like his ideals and aspirations very strongly, and he always aims high when he sets goals to achieve. when it comes to things like hobbies or other activities he enjoys, he’s enthusiastic and always eager to share what he loves with the people he loves.

shitty horoscopes, part one

“I’m NOT--,” he starts, words and eyes both unusually sharp for someone as typically soft-spoken as Ashe, but he cuts himself off just as sharply.

He stares at Felix for a long moment, the expression on his face twisted and unreadable. Without even looking at himself he knows what a sight he must be, eyes red and chest heaving, standing in the doorway like some wild creature that broke into the apartment in the dead of night. Is he angry, or is he sad? Even Ashe can’t be sure. Both emotions clash in that space between his ribs, and he clenches his fists tight against the sensation of it all.

“...Ugh. Shut up, Felix,” is all he finally manages after such silence, though the rebuke is too soft to be genuine. He’s not directly mad at Felix, though he is ashamed at being seen in such disarray by him. If he thought it would do him any good he’d just crawl back to his room, shut the door, and retreat to bed until daybreak, but lying in the dark alone when he already feels this horrible only makes the pit in his stomach sink further.

Ashe uncurls his clenched hands, bringing one up to inelegantly rub the tears from his eyes with the heel of it. Of all the Blue Lions he’d be least okay with being caught crying, Felix ranks at a solid #3 on the list, but at least it’s taken the fight out of him pretty quickly. No point in pretending it didn’t happen.

Ashe is, admittedly, rather spaced out as he stands in the kitchen, staring at the counter with a distinct lack of focus. He’s supposed to be doing something, that’s why he came in here, but… his mind is elsewhere, as is his motivation.

As nice as it’s been here, adjusting hasn’t been the easiest feat in the world. The city is still strange to him, and his reason for having been taken remains elusive. Not a day goes by where he doesn’t wonder- doesn’t worry -after the friends that have been left behind. He hopes more than anything that they’re okay; that he can see them again sooner rather than later. That nobody is particularly worried or upset by his absence.

( The small voice deep in the back of his mind insisting nobody would worry for him chimes, then falls silent. )

Lost in his thoughts as he is, he doesn’t hear Felix enter, nor take particular note of his presence until the swordsman is at his side, leaning into him. It’s startling for the briefest of moments, then incredibly comforting. Ashe doesn’t know if Felix is doing this for his own sake or not, and he isn’t going to ask. This can’t be easy on him, either, even if he isn’t the type to voice his worries aloud like that. Ashe can see it in him, whether he wants him to or not.

He entertains a thought, just for a moment, of putting his arms around Felix. He knows better than to follow through on the impulse, but warmth of the body against his only makes him acutely aware of just how long it’s been since he’d received any sort of physical affection beyond the occasional pat on the back or shoulder. He feels a bit like a child for wanting it, but he has a sudden need to feel someone’s arms around him, and he aches slightly for the lack of it.

He runs his fingers along the spines of the books stacked across the shelf, disappointed to find that all the names don’t ring familiar. Ashe isn’t even certain of what it is he hopes to find here, but books have always been a comfort to him, and if there’s anything he’s in need of so far from his home and his companions, it’s something comforting.

Not that he should have expected this unusual place to have any of his favorites, but he’s persistent in his searching all the same. It’s a library, and what library could simply not include such unforgettable classics? Though he knows them all front to back, to hold a copy of The Moon Knight’s Tale or Loog and the Maiden of Wind in his hands again would really make his day. They seem to be omitted entirely, however, so at this point he’d happily take any knight fables this place could offer up.

As he continues pouring over the shelves in silence, he takes notice of a young woman browsing the same selection. Anticipating her approach, he steps to the side, allowing her unimpeded access to the section of books he’d been lingering in front of.

🗡┊ His excuse was a decently reasonable one, but there was still a few holes with the idea that no one would want to pretend to be ashe. If someone pretended to be someone close to felix he could easily spot flaws in their act, if it was someone who was less close to him … he wouldn’t notice as readily. He was very on edge with this whole idea that this person could possibly be an assassin. Sword still held ready to struck at any moment but the possible faker starter to speak once more, talking about years ago, when they still trained at the academy together.

🗡┊ He remembers the day that he was talking about, snapping the string completely in two in front of several people, even felix admits it was a bit funny. It was so long ago now but it was such a random memory, not a big one like a battle or when someone had gotten hurt or something had happened at the monastery, but just a simple training mishap that happened every day, not to mention it seemed rather important to ashe. While felix’s glare still remained he slowly lowered the sword to his side and let out one huff as he brought his other hand up to his own hair, ruffling it in clear frustration.

            ❛ That was so long ago, and you still remember such an embarrassing thing ? ❜ Well clearly he did, but it was more so felix just pointing it out, since usually, people hated to remember embarrassing things about themselves, but ashe was an odd one, though he appreciated him in the group that was the blue lions, even if he didn’t say it outwardly.

           ❛ Alright, fine. I believe you, please spare me any more details from when we were teens, I already got enough of it from Sylvian ❜

🗡┊ He finally put the sword back into its spot had had it before, resting right beside his bed as he looked back to ashe. Why were they both in this place ? 

          ❛ Tell me, ashe … What is the last thing you remember before waking up in this place ? ❜

He laughs, unable to resist it once it comes bubbling up at the apparent embarrassment such recollections appear to give Felix. He kind of can’t blame him for that, but that’s what such memories are for, aren’t they? You look back, you share them with people you care for, and you laugh. Ashe hasn’t had much to laugh about in a while; it feels nice.

“Okay, okay! No more talking about school, I promise.” For now, anyway. It feels inevitable that it might come up again, but he’ll resist a further trip down memory lane, if only to spare Felix. “Just know I’ve got more where that came from if you start to doubt me again.”

He’s only teasing, but the truth of it is that he wants to enjoy the memories of those happy days while they remain untarnished entirely in his mind. Wants to remember his friends as the smiling, carefree people they were before war plunged everything they knew and loved into chaos. Those same classmates were now their foes, familiar faces standing on both sides of the battlefield in opposition to the Kingdom’s army.

It aches, deep inside his chest. He doesn’t want to fight them; doesn’t want to kill them. Ashe has tried so hard not to remember the good times they all once shared, if only so putting them to the sword in combat will hurt less. It won’t, and he knows it, but he has to try. Has to believe. Telling himself he’s putting his faith in the right things- the right person -has been the only thing keeping him going at times.

“We... were making preparations to march on Gronder Field,” he says after a long pause, the answer to Felix’s question about his last memories before arriving. It was a march he dreaded more than any thus far, knowing that the two other armies, populated with those he once knew, would be awaiting them there. “The Alliance and the Empire were to meet us there. J-Just like old times, huh...?”

His happiness is, of course, shared– in fact, the display borders on infectious. Byleth finally does smile, soft and a little weary, resting a second hand over the space where theirs have now connected. Talking seems to come much easier accompanied with the contact. “Worrying over me, hm? It’s my job to worry over you.”

Is, was. Semantics. Either way, he reclaims his free hand, now using it to preen at Ashe’s face. A thumb presses gently into his cheek, then tips his chin just slightly, as if appraising him. “No injuries?”

“Of course I worry about you. It’s only natural to worry when you care about someone, isn’t it?”

He laughs quietly but complies with the hand poking and inspecting, not resisting Byleth’s appraisals, though the attention does bring a little colour to his cheeks. Being fussed over like this, even in Byleth’s somewhat stoic way, was something he never quite adjusted to completely. Something about having that sort of attention on him made him squirm, but not in necessarily a bad way. He appreciates the concern for his well-being.

questions to be sent anonymously ( or not )

He freezes midway through raising the teacup to his lips, eyes wide like a deer in the proverbial headlights. It’s a good thing Byleth didn’t ask a moment later or he may have risked choking on his tea. The question has certainly caught him by surprise, and it doesn’t take someone who has known him as long as Byleth has to see it. Without even speaking, the look on his face likely makes the truth plain as day.

“P-Professor, please! What kind of question is that…?” he responds, hastily putting his cup back down so he can fix his former teacher with a look of mild abash. He doesn’t particularly want to answer this for a variety of reasons. Maybe Byleth will let him off the hook if he dances around the topic elegantly enough, but that sort of thing has never been Ashe’s strong suit and Byleth can probably read him regardless.

“... There might be,” he sighs, relenting. It’s not like he has to say who it is, at least, and he prays Byleth won’t ask. “Please don’t tell me it’s been obvious.”