#offraldarius

HIS mending relationship with Felix, Dimitri found, had a fine line between FAMILIAR and NEW. There were things they were relearning and things they were exploring, and learning to tightrope walk between that fine line was a trick the new king found to be difficult. ( How could he when he adored Felix and he him ? )

Ashe sighs heavily as he once again fails to swing his sword properly, causing it to nearly fall from his grasp. Needless to say, swords were not his forte, but Professor assured him he needed to train with weapons other than a bow. Which is why he corrected his stance and prepared to strike again when he heard footsteps. 

     A sigh slips past his lips as his fingers wrap about the hilt of his worn blade - the decorative has come loose, peeling away and revealing the unfinished wood it had once covered while the ornate silver and golden patterns that had been adhered to the fine hilt and impressive blade fallen off or been scratched up so badly that they no longer resembled the crest that had once been etched upon their surface. There were still patches of rust clinging to the upper half; left behind by his own blood when he had grasped the blade itself like it had been a lifeline instead of a noose. The years had been unkind to it, and it felt heavy and unnatural in his palm. While the sword hadn’t become a stranger to him, he had taken it up less and less since the slaughter. At first, holding it had brought upon nightmares - one after another until he could not longer tell what was real and what had been a dream. When they finally left him, it had made his hands tremble and his fingers slick with sweat. Then, finally, it had simply felt heavy on the days when it didn’t make his shoulders ache and his wrists throb with the memories he kept tucked away in the back of his mind. 

        He’d spent so much time running away - from retreating to the bow to learning and perfecting his ability to cast magic; anything to escape the memory of that day and all of the pain and resentment that had followed. But running away was a luxury he couldn’t afford now that he had returned to the future king’s side and, by extension, his brother’s. He had a vague idea of what the others thought of him from stories he had been told, and it made him uneasy - perhaps even ill, but he would keep those thoughts to himself. He could never make up for the years that had been lost, and he would never try to. That would be a grave sin to those who had survived and to those who had spent so much time honoring his memory. 

        Even so, he had actively avoided Felix up until now. It had only been a week since he had joined their army, but a week was just long enough for someone to notice he hadn’t made any effort to seek his younger brother out. Truth be told, he was a coward. He wasn’t the ghost they had praised or sheltered in their hearts - he was so far from it, and knowing he had abandoned Felix because he had been too weak for too long left him with a dry tongue and cracked throat. He had spent months - no years, wondering what he would say (could say) to his younger brother should they have cross paths again, and not a single word had ever seemed good enough. 

“Are you going to keep mutilating that training dummy?” Leonie spoke, wandering into the training arena while Felix was practicing his sword play.