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Who: Asad and Marica
What: Just some friendly talk.
When: March 13th, after Asad's thread with Leon.
Where: House #58
Summary: Marica is concerned about her friend and decides to try and find out more of what actually happened during the draft that bothered him so much. During their conversation, she finds out just how much he lost for dying in battle.
Rating: Probably PG?

Talking with Leon had helped Asad feel like less of a fool since he'd returned. He was really glad the boy had made it out all right. A bit shaken by the experience, but who wouldn't be? He still was reeling inside over being injured by his own Mark, and having to watch that happen had to have been truly horrible.

What he felt inside didn't matter. he had to act as normal as possible. He had to say what he did to Leon, because otherwise the boy wouldn't be able to live with himself. But those words were mostly true, he didn't regret for one moment dying to save someone. That was a part of being a soldier. Eventually when he returned home, he'd likely fall in battle for the sake of protecting his kingdom, one of his men, or someone who could not fight. He knew that when he had signed on in the first place. He fought so everyone would have the freedom to make their own choices and live their lives as they wished to. He fought so that people would not have to live in fear.

It was just hard to have to live with the fact that his own weapon had been turned against him. That was something Jale and Marica could never hear about. He knew their opinion of him had been shaken by this and he wasn't going to let them know. He'd rather keep the horror he felt to himself than to have them feel disappointed in him. And that was enough of a reason to try and bury those horrible thoughts of how badly he had fought that last day deep within and to never let them out.

And that was why he attempted to put a smile on his face as he returned to house #58 after doing some training. He'd worried Jale and Marica enough. That wasn't going to continue.

[ooc: Marica-mun, forgot to ask if you wanted to do it prose or commentspam, so I'm starting it with prose, if you prefer commentspam, just comment with that and I'll change this up.]

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Marica looked up at the jiggling of the doorknob. She had a sewing needle in her mouth and a colorfully patterned cloth spilling from her lap to the floor. After a couple days of staring at the bare walls of her bedroom, she'd hit up the market for fabric in an attempt to rectify the spartan whiteness of the place. Now she was putting it all together -- but why hole up in her room when the living room was so nice and spacious?

When the bold red of Asad's hair poked out from behind the door, she smiled at him. The two of them hadn't spoken in much other than a casual business context back during the war against the Order, so suddenly living together was a strange transition. But hey, she reasoned, it would only be as awkward as she allowed it to be, right?

"Welcome back," she said brightly as she took the pin out of her mouth. "Did you get some good training in?"

Asad tried to return her bright tone with a smile of his own, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. True, he was feeling less miserable, but that didn't mean he was truly happy.

"Well enough," he answered her. It was a slight lie because really he had grown too dependent on the Marks and on mage arts. He was good at it and it made sense to use what he was best at. But things were different in this world.

So he tries for a subject change instead. He looks towards the colored fabric. "Getting settled in then? You're lucky it's getting warmer, it was still snowing when I arrived."

There was something still... off about Asad. She couldn't tell why, exactly -- was it because of his long-term experiences here, or did it have to do with that death penalty? -- but all she could tell was that his demeanor was missing something from those times when he would greet her with a smile in the hallways of Rätselhaft Castle. Well, he was still smiling at her, but... it was different. She couldn't put a finger on it.

Even so, she tried not let her thoughts show through. Maybe he just needed some more time. "Yeah, my room was starting to get kind of boring to look at," she explained, flapping the cloth a bit straighter so that he could see. There was a zigzagging pattern running across in earthy browns, greens, and reds. A break frayed with loose threads yawned along the side of the cloth where she was still sewing the edges together.

"Was it really snowing when you got here?" she asked, grinning a bit as she dropped the cloth back on her lap. "To be honest, it's hard for me to imagine you in anything warmer than that jacket you're always wearing."

Edited 2011-03-15 10:14 (UTC)

He could very much understand her feelings about the rooms. It was hard to accept that they were indeed stuck here and try and change it, but it did seem more like a home when they did. And that was a nice fabric. "That will definitely look good when you're done."

Marica definitely arrived at a much better time than he did, and he had the added cruelty of being left far outside the village. "It was actually still snowing when we all left for the draft, and I'm sure not used to that sort of climate. Looks like a lot can change in a week and that change I'm glad for."

Marica blinked. Ever since Asad's revival, there had been unspoken understanding that asking for specifics regarding his death was off-limits. He'd seemed unusually averse to talking about it, so Marica had been careful to tiptoe around the subject... But if Asad was okay with bringing it up, even if it was a detail as seemingly insignificant as the weather on the day he'd left, then maybe that was a good sign.

"I'm glad too," she said, carefully folding the fabric into a neat rectangle. "It would've been the worst if it'd been snowing when I got here. Especially in that dress." She snorted and dropped the folded cloth on her seat as she stood up. "Anyway, you must be hungry. I was going to make some sandwiches for lunch. I can make one for you too, if you want."

He still doesn't want to talk about the specifics, but really he can't avoid the fact that he was missing for a week. It's easier to deal with it in a vague term like how things changed or being late back from the draft. Having been gone for a week wouldn't go unnoticed, but he can speak of it in terms that seem more normal and make it seem more like he got kidnapped after it instead of killed the last day. It's just sad that being missing for a week really is a normal thing for this place.

"That dress can't be any worse than the fact us guys only get a pair of thin pants and that's it," he answered. Of course, who knows what Jale arrived to since the boy sure was quiet about how long he'd been here and all. But then he heard Marica's offer of food, and he sure wasn't going to complain. "I'd appreciate it."

Did they really only give guys pants? So they were too cheap to drop them the courtesy of a t-shirt. And yet everything here was free, so how did that line up? Marica waved the thought away. It made as much sense as everything else around here, she supposed.

"All right, I'll get started right away," she said, some enthusiasm cropping up at Asad's answer. She hadn't experimented much with the weird gadgets around the kitchen, but sandwiches were easy enough! "It'll be just one moment."

He tried to give a slightly brighter smile at Marica's enthusiasm. Let her try and figure out the weird gadgets, he still hadn't figured them all out yet himself. More about this place that just didn't make sense really. Not that much did.

"Sure. I just need to put my stuff away in my room. I'll be back out before you finish," he answered. Ever since returning he really was making more of an effort to get more practice in with all the different types of weapons he had learned all that time ago, but that did mean dragging quite a few weapons over to the barracks or the Battle Dome. Once he had honed his skills with everything he learned more, then he could work on a good technique for a flying enemy that can make his Marks useless or harmful to him.

And he'd have to tell Jale and Marica sooner or later that their Marks won't be of much use if they get drafted. It wasn't as outright dangerous for them not to know, but they still should know.

"'Kay," Marica said, heading into the kitchen to get started. As Asad passed by, she paused to glance at his retreating back. It seemed like no matter how much cheer she tried to pile on to fill in that space of his, the results were trivial at best. She sighed as she opened the refrigerator (the icebox, in her dictionary) and started to grab anything that looked like it could lay flat enough to sit between two slices of bread.

Soon enough, her sandwichy tools were laid out along the counter: two plates, a sliced load of bread, and a colorful assortment of vegetables, meat, and otherwise. She placed her hands on her hips as she drew out a blueprint in her head. If words wouldn't make Asad feel better, than maybe her sandwich could speak to his stomach instead...!

A shame Marica doesn't know that his having to try and pretend everything is fine when it isn't is about the only thing keeping him from completely retreating. She and Jale may not be Hafin and Nakil who would know better what to say, but it was better than being alone completely.

Asad knew it was just time he needed. His confidence took a huge blow out there on the battlefield and he just needed to get it back somehow. He went ahead and tossed his things aside in his room and came back out and sat down to wait on Marica.

Phew! Done! Marica stepped back and admired her handiwork. The two sandwiches sitting squarely in the center of their plates looked, for all intents and purposes, perfect. They were stacked with meticulous care, each layer poking past the boundaries of the bread exactly as planned -- not too messy, but not too plain-looking, either. The colorful selection of ingredients stood out against the white plates with a nice pop and polish that made her almost sad to know that they would have to be moved eventually. One corner of each sandwich was neatly pillowed by a fresh leaf of lettuce, still crisp and vibrant, with a clean slice of orange on the side.

But the naive wouldn't know. They wouldn't know until it was too late.

That there were beans on carrots on turkey hidden in those depths.

That there was mayonnaise on one slice, and ketchup on the other.

That she thought she'd used salt, but had actually used sugar instead.

But if there was anyone from Citro that was naive when it came to Marica's cooking, it was, first and foremost, Marica herself. She picked up the plates happily and bussed them over Asad, setting his plate in front of him with a gentle clack. "Enjoy!"

Asad smiled upon seeing Marica's handiwork. It definitely looked very harmless and possibly even tasty. Jale's odd reaction was starting to make no sense at all. Unless maybe Marica was just bad with using fires.

"Thanks, Marica. I'm sure I will," he said to her as he picked up the sandwich to take a bite.

And once he did, Jale's comments started to make sense. It was hard to swallow that and he had to take a quick drink to even be able to do so. "It's...um...very good!" he said, trying to smile at her.

Just ignore the fact that he nearly choked on that one bite.

Ignored like a pro. Marica smiled back and took a seat. See, she didn't need Sisuca's help all of the time!

"Did you have any other plans for today?" she began conversationally, squaring her sandwich up on her plate. She actually wasn't that hungry, but if Asad was eating, then she figured she might as well join him.

And now for Asad to figure out a way to avoid having to eat much more without hurting Marica's feelings. This was probably worse than that time he'd been cooking for his men and got distracted and dumped a bunch of salt into a stew. If only he could remember who caused that distraction. Must have been Lady Shairah...

"No plans. Any reason why you're asking?" Really, he's thinking maybe Marica wants to ask some questions. And since some time has passed, he's feeling a bit more up to answering questions about the draft, as long as he doesn't need to go into details of the last day.

"Not really," she said, carefully picking up her sandwich. "Just wondering what you guys usually do around here. I was thinking of getting some practice in later, but that's all I can think of."

She blinked at him. "Is there a reason why I should be asking?" she asked before digging into her sandwich. Hmm... Needed more salt.

Asad will go ahead and take a bite of the orange, because that's safe at least. "I was just wondering if you had a suggestion. There isn't a whole lot to do besides train and meet the others who are stuck here with us. Besides the experiments and drafts, little happens and it leaves too much time to think."

He was looking at the sandwich and wondering if maybe some salt or pepper would save it somewhat. Sure couldn't make it any worse.

Marica hummed in thought, her line of sight drifting up to a corner of the room. Something to do...

"Well, I was thinking of taking a look at the barrier for myself, but since it's a ways out, I was going to save it for after I got used to the village. Until then, I can't think of much... Oh, I know." She looked back at Asad. "How about we train together? I could probably learn a thing or two from you about offensive spells, and I think I'd make a pretty decent sparring partner, too."

The moment Marica mentions offensive spells she can likely feel the mood darken a lot. He quickly attempts to conceal that fact with a smile. "I'd enjoy sparring with you. I've been trying to train with other weapons more and not rely so much on the Marks of the Stars since they aren't as powerful here."

He only hoped that was believable enough. He couldn't admit that he was scared to use them again after nearly dying from his own magic. And he definitely wasn't going to endanger a friend by teaching her anything about offensive magic.

Marica swallowed another bite of sandwich, a bit of her smile dropping off by the time she was done. It felt like she'd unknowingly edged in on some touchy territory. What that territory was, exactly, still tiptoed out of her grasp, but her curiosity urged her to reach for it.

"That's true, but I'd think that at your level, even half of your power is more than enough to cause trouble for most people. Getting fifty spikes of rock in your face isn't much different from a hundred, right?"

If only that were the extent of it. "I guess Jale didn't share with you what I sent him."

Asad takes out his journal and opens it up to the pages that had saved in it the messages he sent Jale during the draft. All of it was from the beginning at least, but likely that much was enough to get the point across. He'll hand it to her to read.

In it are descriptions of the place they were sent to. The strange rooms where one could get anything they wanted. The devices like gateways that sent them out. The enemy with their giant wings. The fact that the enemy was so much like the Order, but far more dangerous. It would definitely stick out fast that Asad comments on how the Marks are all but useless if one meets up with a Shifter. There were a few times where he'd try and use something only to find nothing happen. And since the enemy could fly, he had to rely on the bow and arrow and he was definitely out of practice. But large wings were at least easy enough to hit. There were descriptions of how people who couldn't even use a weapon were forced out to fight and he had to help keep them safe.

There's some more lighthearted descriptions, like of the interesting things other villagers could do. Like the flying machine one person had. His neighbor in the dorms accidentally setting off a smoke bomb after arrival, poor kid. The strange things that happened to some of the draftees, like the odd skin colors that were harmless, but kind of funny.

And of course it ends on the night of March 1st since he never bothered to fill in how it all ended.

And while Marica takes a look at that, he's going to find a way to make it look like he ate more of that sandwich.

Marica's face grew increasingly grim as she followed the story in the messages, lightening only with the more mundane accounts. But by the end of it, there was an unmistakable line etched into her brow and her sandwich lay forgotten -- never mind Asad's. "This is terrible," she muttered, flipping back to the parts she wanted to read again. "Sending people who can't even fight out to war... They're hardly any better than the enemy. And what's this all about?"

She pointed to the part about Marks malfunctioning against Shifters. "They can mess with our Marks?" She looked up from the journal. "Did you end up having to use a sword or something, then?"

The sending out non-combatants was definitely a truly horrible part of it. And if one of them went missing, it was up to them to deal with it. But yeah, being unable to use his best weapon so many times grew tiresome and dangerous fast.

"After the first day, I stopped bothering to bring any weapon that used mage arts. I quickly gained the ability to change weapons in the middle of a battle, often using either a bow or the swords the Blades of Night's Veil preferred. With the Marks being worse than useless out there, it was the only choice I had, and even that didn't work too well. I won't put you in danger if you have to go. You're better off honing the skills you already have."

And that doesn't even cover the fact that the Elites could shift their weapons to make them useless too. But really, the worst was having his own Mark shifted back on him. True, Marica and Jale could be trained in the mage arts easily, but with the lack of strength in here and the uselessness of them in the drafts, they would be better suited to spend their time training on things that are going to help more.

Marica frowned at Asad, journal forgotten. "Put me in danger? Asad, you're making it sound like being good at Marks and mage arts is a liability." She began to count off her fingers. "Offense aside, they're good for healing, shielding, and ability boosting. That's three things, and attacking is just one."

She crossed her arms and sat back in her seat, wondering if Asad's critical choice of words had anything to do with his mood as of late. "I don't know about you, but even if our Marks don't work against this one group of enemies, I'd still like to get better at using them -- and as far as I'm concerned, you're one of the most qualified people from our world to teach about them."

"I don't want to be responsible if you get hurt by the enemy shifting it to attack you!" And right as he said that, he realized that he just revealed what he was trying to keep to himself. True, he had told Caesar that magic was something that could be shifted also, because that very fact had been missing from their intelligence.

His voice grows quiet with his next words. "I apologize. I did not mean to belittle your skills."

Her Marks being shifted back against her? Where did that even come from? And why would her skills be "belittled" at just the thought of it?

... And just like that, the pieces clicked together. Asad said those things because they were what had been on his mind these past few days, and they'd jumped to the surface way too easily as a result. If his words alone didn't give him away, then that face of his was shouting his guilt to the heavens.

"Asad... Is that what's been bothering you?" She slowly sat up, concern ducking her hands under the table as she leaned forward. "You should know that the things that happen on the battlefield are half up to luck. Especially when your army's at as much of a disadvantage as it was, and when your enemies are so unpredictable."

"Severe burns...from my own Mark. And a sword to the chest. ...That was what killed me... The one who did it died in the same manner," His words were quiet as he said this, as if maybe if Marica couldn't quite hear it, the horror that keeps on running through his mind would not be real.

"Asad..." Anything else she might have added died away. What could anyone say to that? The members of the Company had been through plenty of dangerous battles, but by some miracle, none had ever been lost. Yes... No one from Viele Wege had died -- but that didn't mean that all of their loved ones had come back home by the war's end.

"I'm just glad you can still sit here and eat with us," she said, softly as if raising her voice any more would crack an invisible pane of glass between them.

That really was what made this all so hard. He lost plenty of people thanks to the Order. There were all those in Lazdaa Fortress, then the whole Magedom vanishing. Plenty of people didn't come back, and he never really did get a chance to deal with that and then having this happen, well it just was becoming too much. The fact that they always had so much to do to fight the Order helped because being busy meant no time to think about the horrible things.

"I'm glad for the second chance, but I hate the fact that it had a cost and I still do not know what it was and this place gives us too much time to consider the bad things."

Though really, as glad as he was to still be here, he can't help but regret in some ways that he was given a second chance, but yet all those they lost were not.

"The cost..." Marica placed an elbow on the table and propped her chin up. She'd been starting to think that the cost had been his happiness, but it was still too early to say. Besides, he didn't seem as "sad" as, say, "troubled".

"You know, to be honest," she said, her gaze drifting upward in thought, "Jale and I might not know you well enough to be able to tell if you're really missing something. Worse comes to worst, we might have to wait until we're back home. Maybe Hafin or Nakil... or even Chrodechild will be able to tell."

Troubled was far too accurate, though time will likely make it better, especially if he can distract himself somehow and not have to think about how horrible it all was. Either that, or something that will help him get his confidence back, because that battle did a number to it.

But that last statement confused him. True Hafin and Nakil would know easily and probably would have done a world of good to have around here. More because they knew what to say after a hard battle. But he could not recall someone named Chrodechild. The way Marica worded that, he should know. Thinking real quick, it sounded like someone from Astrasia, but nothing else would come to mind.

"Hafin or Nakil would know, but...I can't recall anyone by the name of Chrodechild. Or do you mean Lady Fredegund?" No, that made no sense, he barely knew Lady Fredegund.

He needed to stop thinking about this. Marica must have meant Meruvis.

"... Eh?" Marica's brain shut down for a moment. Then she sat up and stared at Asad, her eyebrows practically rocketing up into her hairline. "Chrodechild. You know... Chrodechild. I guess she's your boss now, but you've always been... well. You really don't know who I'm talking about?"

All he could do was shake his head at that. He truly did not remember this woman, but that did explain the confusion he'd been having about some details which had led him to believe it was a memory he lost, but it seemed to be a large set. So they all related to this Chrodechild and if Marica was right, she was someone he knew well. "I really do not know her."

"This can't be right," Marica murmured, bringing a hand to her chin in thought. "I guess it's possible that you could be from a different world from mine, but Jale hasn't mentioned anything about it." Unless, of course, Jale also came from a different world, but nothing about him suggested it. She would have to talk to him more about this later and see how many facts lined up between them...

But really, Chrodechild was such a large part of Asad's life that Marica had a hard time separating the two in her mind. Could she really chalk his not remembering her all up to different home worlds? "Asad, you remember the Blades of Night's Veil, right?" she asked, looking back to him. "Who was their leader?"

Could that be possible that he was from a different world from Marica? But then this Marica seemed like the one he knew.

"Of course I recall the Blades of Night's Veil. They often fought with the 2nd Mage Company after they came to the Magedom."

But their leader? Why couldn't he remember who that was? He could remember Meruvis and Roberto clearly. He should know this because he fought with them so often.

"I cannot recall their leader. I remember when we left the Magedom they came along and Meruvis was second in command and he and Roberto both were Starbearers."

"Ah..." Marica felt like she was slowly sinking into the floor. It was becoming obvious now -- the penalty for Asad's death. "And Fredegund's sister? The queen of Astrasia?" she tried again.

Honestly, Asad had been suspecting it was a memory because of the fact that certain things just were not there and some facts didn't line up. Like he knew Astrasia has a queen, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not recall her name or appearance even though he knew said queen was his commander so he must have met her. His mind wants to fill in that it must be Fredegund, but he remembers her saying she would not take a position because she betrayed her kingdom.

"I only know Lady Fredegund, and she is not the queen. I don't recall having met her sister, but I know I must have."

Marica huffed. "Well, I think we've found what you've been missing," she said, raising an eyebrow. "The question is whether or not you think it's worth trying to get it back."

That was a good question though. The only problem was he had no way of knowing now how worth it those memories were besides the fact that it was annoying to not have things match up right and he should obviously know who this person is. He frowns at that thought. "It's rather difficult to know the worth of something that cannot even be recalled. And then there is trusting an unknown to have it returned."

"And it's not really up to me to say how important those memories were," Marica added, frowning. Asad had been... an admirer of Chrodechild, to put it one way, but she couldn't be a judge of whether or not it was worth the risk to see this John person. They simply didn't know enough about him.

"Geez... Jale might have something helpful to say about this too, but he went out," she said wistfully, turning her plate back and forth with one finger.

"You can share with Jale what I told you of the draft. I'd rather not tell it again."

And there wasn't much more he could say. Marica was right, she has no way of knowing how important something so personal is. He cannot judge for himself either not knowing anything of what is missing. The only thing that could help is maybe telling some of what she and Jale saw, and even that may not be enough.

But really, it was seeming to be a bad idea to even try and think about it too much. It had been physically painful to even try and consider that much. "I think it might be best for me to not worry about it for now. We have plenty of time to consider it."

"Yeah, you're right..." Besides, if they stayed on this topic much longer, she felt like she might get a headache. The only person truly fit to determine the importance of Asad's memories of Chrodechild was Asad himself, but it wasn't like asking him was an option.

She mentally threw her hands up and went in for another bite of her sandwich. Maybe things would sort themselves out with a little bit more time. Her eyes idly wandered across the table -- and stopped on Asad's plate. "Wow, you must have been hungrier than I thought."

Still, it might be possible for him to determine the importance of those memories, just not too much at once. Things like filling in some details so he can better understand his reactions to things may help him figure out how important it all is.

But that can come later. For now, at least the basics are understood and he has a better idea what he lost. Knowing makes it easier to cope. And his thoughts are quickly interrupted by the welcome change of subject. "Ah, yeah. I guess I was. All that training you know."

"Well, it's good to have a healthy appetite!" Marica grinned and unconsciously played with a lock of hair. It really was a good sign for him to be eating well, especially since his diet had taken a turn for the scarce after his return. "If you want, I can make you another one!"

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(no subject)

Probably PG, pff. And I'm fine with prose!

Well, it sure isn't going to be G rated!

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