Who: Asura + Plotted CR
When: Late January - Early February
Where: Rescue basecamp, Asura's shared home, and likely the steps of Parliament.
What: Wrath, dumb jokes, politics, and a lot of h/c.
Warnings: Strong descriptions of injury, mentions of torture (re: event) and slavery.
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ALEX;
He had allowed her to trail him, for a time, but for no longer. The terrain has grown rugged, now that they near the city's bounds, and after brushing the collection of snow from its surface, Asura seats himself atop a boulder of a rock, before...! Drawing a wooden, hand-carved flute out from the red and gold brocade of his overcoat. And upon giving the instrument a twirl betwixt his taloned fingers, Asura bellows in bold, hearty announcement!: ]
To you, the one who has been watching over me for the past while, I would like to give my gratitude. [ Because that's what Alex has been doing, hasn't she? Looking out for him. ] And with this offering, if I may be graced with a glimpse of your face, then... perhaps we both will be fulfilled.
[ Undeniable, that he has wished to see Alex for quite some time. That, during the haze of his own recovery, he'd asked Sokie to check in on Alex herself, ensuring her health. Confirming that she were well. And now... now, that Asura is able to move and to move freely, the crystal missing from his chest now nearly restored after half a month of mending and regrowth, he is able to greet Alex with a cheerful tune, as light as the crystalline snowfall around them.
But will it draw Alex closer to his person...? Asura, he closes his eyes as he plays, raven dark lashes sweeping against his cheeks, in the hope that when he opens them again, she will be the first thing that he sees. ]
ASURA, PLAY DESPACITO
The merrow makes sure to keep a safe distance, far enough to not be seen (o(hopefully) but close enough to still see him. It appeared to be going well, Asura not so much as even looking back during his walk. Maybe..just maybe she was doing this right..! Anxious and concerned as she was, there was a little bit of joy in being able to do something correctly.
Or so she thought, until Asura began to settle, and suddenly called out to someone who was undoubtedly her. She's apprehensive, not wanting to show herself out of shame and embarrassment. The guilt only festers inside at the thought of facing him, now knowing what to say, how to act, or even how to look him in the eye. A peppy sound cuts through the noises in her head, anchoring her, bringing her back, and eventually, leading her out of the trees she was hiding behind.
Her steps are still silent and cautious, but more like a child about to receive a scolding. She makes her way around the boulder as the song continues, peering up at Asura's face. His eyes are closed, but not because he was tired or drained. He seemed more peaceful, more lively. Relief fills her chest with the breath she takes in, wanting nothing more than for him to be doing better. But what was going to happen when his eyes opened?
She halts in her next step. Maybe she should turn back after all. ]
at alex's command (◡‿◡✿)
sheer obstinanceblatant refusaladamant rejection of the Winter cold in his state of dress. The fastenings of his brocade coat? Markedly unclosed. The buttons of his shirt? Undone. The bronze skin of his abdomen (scales, scar-tissue, and all)? On display, and proudly so. In part, it is because the King of Summer is allergic to wearing so very many layers (euch), but so too is it due to the restoration of his crystal, his furnace of a chest churning out enough heat to be felt by Alex now that she lingers in close proximity. ]Hey, you. [ Rich and deep, his voice once the flute is lowered from his lips. Gone, the poetic nature of his words in favor of the simplicity of familiarity, because... they are well-acquainted, aren't they, in some manner of speaking. They've seen each other through the hell carved by the Rathmores in their pit of cold stone, and for it, their paths have become inexorably intertwined. It is never what Asura would have wanted (not for her, not for them), but he is not one to shy away from the truth of it. ] Wish you would've dialed me up on the Watch, instead of following me out here in the cold. Would've come the second you called, you know.
[ Now that he's on the mend, able to muster enough breath to play his flute again. ]
All this while, I've wanted to tell you that you did do something. [ "But I couldn't do anything..in the end," she'd said back then. ] That you helped.
[ When she'd leaned into his touch and reminded him of all the good humans possessed, proving to him that his choice to walk alongside mortals had not been wrong; that there would always be those who were worth protecting with his dragon's wrath and fury. ]
Re: at alex's command (◡‿◡✿)
His voice reverberates like a bass, forcing her to look back at his face and pay attention. ]
That...
[ Her gaze lowers once more like the coward she believed herself to be. When he seems to accuse her of doing something, which she did, she flinches, preparing for the several scenarios she played out in her head should she ever speak to him again.
But none of those scenarios foresaw what he ended up saying.
The marrow's head snaps up, her voice louder than it has been so far. ]
How..how can you say that?
no subject
This is: ]
Because you were hurt, just as I was, and you still allowed me to rest against you.
[ When his head had been heavy and his limbs leaden weights, when he could not muster the strength to sit up without aid, she'd held him and made sure he didn't slip away. This, he remembers as much as her tears which turned to pearls; how her hands had trembled when she'd tried to take care, be gentle when set to the gruesome task the Rathmores did not allow her to escape.
And in thinking upon this (the scars inflicted upon Alex and his Mirrorbound comrades, and the wounds which had yet to heal), Asura finds himself angry and galvanized by the emotion. It gives him direction and compels his body to follow— his flute? Returned to the pocket of his overcoat. The distance between them? Easy to bridge, a flurry of snowfall kicking up in his wake. And with hands newly freed, he embraces her as he lowers himself to one knee. Because here, like this, he is able to raise a hand (gentle, steady, sure) to cup the side of her face with a palm as calloused as it is warm.
Just as it had in that cell of stone, his magic threads between them through the link of touch, but something is different in the here and now where he is able to say the most important thing: ]
What happened to me, what happened to us, it wasn't your fault. [ There is no shying away from this; from him in this moment, his green eyes searching out the blue of her own and holding them with a gaze which is both arresting and impossibly honest. ] I will keep telling this to you, until the day you are able to believe it yourself.
no subject
Her strength is nothing compared to his own, her attempts at rebuffing him futile against the force of his warmth and gentleness. Her finger curl at the
littlefabric of his clothes, her head weighing down against the palm of his hand despite still pushing against him. She was a woman of many contradictions. ]Why do you bother...
[ He got nothing out of this, and yet he made it sound as if it was such a rewarding task to be so supportive. ]
I would prefer if you worried about yourself just as much.
no subject
While he does move, rising in a precise economy of motion to his feet, he takes her right along with him. Scooped up into and neatly supported by his arms, he whisks her right into the air, standing at his full height of six-foot-two as he holds her high, shifting her perspective. ] I'm bothering because you're the one who's looking out for me, here in the cold and the snow.
[ But it's no longer quite so cold, is it? Not with the heat radiating from the crystal within Asura's chest. It melts any dustings of snow which might have collected on Alex's coat or the fringe of her hair. ]
And more than that... [ Though he smiles still, his carries with it a somber edge, a solemn note: ] I've carried it once before, too. The guilt of not being able to save someone.
[ Many someones. The lives which he'd been forced to take, the people who would still draw breath if not for him; if not for the whim of his once-Keeper. And lo: he's revealed that he's not too good to be true, because... he's walked the very path which Alex faces now, and they are not so different. ]
It'll eat you alive, if you let it, and it's my selfish wish for you to avoid that fate. [ Selfish? But ah, ah, how could that be? ] Because without you...
[ And here, there's a theatrical pause. A cheeky huff, before...!: ]
Who's going to sing while I play the flute? [ ??? What, Asura??? ]
no subject
It was difficult for her to imagine someone so powerful not being able to save someone. But what did the weight of that kind of guilt weigh? It may not be an excuse, but Alex knew she was powerless, and there really wasn't anything she could do even if she tried. But to have that kind of power, and to still be helpless? Were there things that he still carried, she wondered.
She lifts a hand, gently pressing the tips of her fingers against the side of his face, just as he has some many times now. But after a moment, she pinches it just so. ]
I don't know how you do it.
[ Or why.
Her head tilts lower, her forehead pressing against his. Her tone softens, just barely a whisper. ]
...Thank you.