lucetilogs | TERRACE Draft

[Luke had been doing what he could. Fighting when he had to, though he mostly tried to stay with the healers, or straying to the people he knew, like those from Auldrant. Out of everyone, Luke knew how to fight alongside them most.

On the 29th he finds himself alone, mostly trying not to be seen for fear of fighting - of killing again, and that's when he sees it. Asch, standing still and staring blankly ahead, an enemy not too far away from him and fixing its gaze on him, like it's the cause of it...

The description looks familiar, but Luke doesn't think too hard on it right now. All he knows is that Asch is in danger, and that cultist is causing it, so he readies his sword and rushes forward.]

Asch!

[But despite his call, neither his original nor the Dream Shifter look at him. He raises his sword once he's close enough to the enemy, but instead of swinging the weapon and ending another life like he meant to, a feeling of something closing around him occurs, and Luke finds himself in a completely different place. The shock of it makes him stop, sword lowering to his side again as he looks around.

Where is he?]

[It shouldn't take long for Luke to recognize his location- he's home, after all, or what appears to be home. It's the courtyard of the manor in Baticul, the scent of Pere's flowers around them, birds chirping, the gentle flow of the water surrounding the central area where Luke is standing. It's mostly quiet, but certainly not abandoned; off to the side the gardener is hard at work, digging through the soil and planting new buds for the spring, chatting amiably with Guy - a much younger Guy, an age at which Luke had first met him, actually. In the corner, shaded by an overhang, are the duke and his wife, talking quietly and drinking tea.

And off to the side, by his room, is a table scattered with books, a pitcher of water, and a couple of glasses. And seated at that table is Natalia, about 11 or 12, and Asch.

No, not Asch. The original Luke fon Fabre.

And he looks happy.]

[...

Is that him? No, wait, it couldn't be. When Luke himself was that age, he could barely even walk, let alone talk. And that's...

That's Luke. Luke fon Fabre. The real one.

Oh, god.

A numbness spreads through Luke's limbs, and he drops his sword to the ground. The occupants of the dream barely look up, seeing how Luke has let go of his weapon. But he doesn't pay attention to that now; no, he's just staring at Asch... at Luke. His original.

This... This is what he'd always wanted, wasn't it? This is where he's happy. It's with that thought that Luke takes a few steps back, very nearly turns to leave. All he wanted was to give his original this very thing - his life, his world. The thing the replica stole.

But then he stops. He knows what this is. A dream, something created by the cultist he had gone after. It looked into what Asch wanted most, and it's playing with him. And if Luke leaves, it'll destroy him and Asch won't even know it.

And that, more than anything, is what fuels Luke into turning around and walking towards his original, until he's standing by the table with his fists at his sides. His expression looks calm, though he frowns, and his hands tremble.

Because honestly? He's angry. Angry at the cultist for doing this to his original. And... angry at himself, too.]

... Luke.

["Luke" looks up at his call, somehow managing to tear his attention away from Natalia. They'd been seriously discussing politics and the future of their country - and a little bit about the frog she'd caught trying to crawl into her petticoat, they are children after all - and he really doesn't want to stop. But Luke is right there and difficult to ignore, and as Asch gazes up at him, there's... a ripple. Something in his expression, caution, uncertainty, a sudden fear: it's difficult to define, but it's not quite a child's expression. It's too knowing, too broken. And in a flash it's gone, and he's smiling cheerfully, standing up to greet his replica.]

I didn't even see you approaching us. Are you my new teacher? Master Van said that he would be sending a replacement from Daath while he attended to his duties.

I...

[Luke had seen that brief expression, but he's too caught up by the one that he's staring down at now. It's so happy, so cheerful. Nothing like the original he knows, and - and it's all his fault, isn't it? He's the one who took that smile away.

The frown, as a result, falters, looking more unsure than anything, and he looks over his shoulder. He wasn't prepared for this at all. What does he do? How can he possibly save his original from the one thing he's always wanted? How can he take everything away from him again?

He can see the others like this, his - Luke's mother and father, Guy, Pere... and he shuts his eyes tightly, tries to think of it another way. He's trying to save a life. A life he cares for.

When he opens his eyes and sees Susanne watching him with what seems to be curiosity, Luke snaps his gaze forward again. Don't look at them, don't look.]

Y... Yeah. Um, how about we... move to the middle of the courtyard? To... start.

[To get away from prying ears, more like. Natalia's far too close for this.]

Oh, sure.

[Asch moves as if to lead the way, but is halted when Natalia grips his wrist, frowning her disapproval. They bicker quietly for a moment, as she insists that it's time to focus on his studies, but he manages to placate her with a promise to double his efforts after dinner. She seems mollified by that, at least- the word "promise" certainly brings a shy smile to her face easily enough. And within moments Asch has fetched his sword and goes to retrieve Luke's, offering it out to him.]

That's an amazing sword- I could barely lift it! You must be pretty good, to have that kind of weapon, and for Van to entrust my training to you.

[His voice is proud, as if no anomosity existed between himself and the commandant. No kidnapping, no torment, no replication. This world is perfect, and he's right in the center, the top of his game.

This was the happiest time of his life, after all.]

[Luke knows this, and it's why he has to battle with himself every minute this dream goes on. He wishes that someone else could do this, someone who isn't so tied into this. Anyone, anyone but him, and that thought is so desperate that he even wishes Van would show up with the replica version of Asch. The thought horrifies him as soon as it enters his head.

And that, plus the way Asch talks about him now, solidifies his resolve once more. Luke has no doubt that it'll be shaken again, but as long as he can do this, as long as he can find little reasons to keep going - ]

... Thanks. I had a pretty good trainer, too.

[It's when Luke takes his sword and blinks that he realizes his eyes are wet, and he belatedly realizes that his voice shook a little. Well. That's not something Asch needs to see, so he wipes at his eyes with his free hand, and he looks behind him again. An excuse, an excuse...]

Wow, your gardener must be planting something I'm allergic to. Jeez...

[He isn't annoyed by it - how could he? He isn't allergic at all. Still, he forces up a smile to show this, and he moves to the middle of the courtyard while faking a sniff.]

Pere? He's just getting ready for the new season. Are you okay? I thought Oracle Knights were supposed to be tough.

[His smile is slightly teasing as he takes a fighting stance, amateur but surprisingly refined for his age. In the background can see his parents watching, and it makes his shoulders lift, ready to do them proud. Especially with his father watching now, the way he'd always wanted him to.]

Hey, even Oracle Knights can't fight against allergies!

[Despite his own teasing tone, his smile is still forced, because he knows he has to make this all disappear somehow. He got Asch away from his family - no, the ones watching him and running this whole scenario. But now what? How does he keep him here, especially when he has to tell him what he needs to do?

Still thinking hard, he moves his sword behind him into his own standard fighter's stance. Maybe he can use their activity as - some kind of distraction, or something.]

Show me what Van's taught you, okay?

...Well, okay. If you say so.

[It's a little weird, but it's not really worth looking into, not with the prospect of training beating out the topic of allergies, something he has no experience or interest in. Adjusting his grip on his sword one last time, he charges forward to lash out his blade at Luke's, his eyes glinting with determination and pleasure. He enjoys his studies, yes, and the company of his cousin, but this is where his talent truly lies. And this is what earns him the most praise. If he fights well, this soldier will tell Van, and then Van will praise him, and his father...!]

[Luke understands all too well; he, too, wished his father would approve of him, too. Every single achievement he made was always undermined by his father, whether it was writing a sentence correctly for the first time or drawing something good, or even training well. Nothing was good enough for him, and even now, he's sure his father is watching on impassively.

But Luke doesn't dare look. Even though he wants to, if only to figure out who the Dream Shifter is. No, he needs to focus on Asch right now. He needs him to listen, he needs to get him out of here before - before the Dream Shifter does whatever it does here.

He blocks against Asch's attacks, his eyes slightly wide from the fact that his original really is good. He's just a child, and he's already got so much talent in this field... so much more than Luke did when he was in this place. Then again, Van was probably holding him back the whole time...

It's after a moment of all this when Luke can't hold back any longer. He parries hard, hoping to throw Asch off balance, and talks to him in a rushed and quiet tone, hoping that the observers don't hear him.]

Luke, you need to listen to me - I know this is going to sound weird, but this isn't real.

[Asch jerks back at that, eyes widening, his sword drooping slightly at his side. Not real? What kind of a thing is that to say? In the middle of practice, even... and what's worse is that he feels something, more than surprise and anger at such an accusation, something much deeper. It's cold and unpleasant and he's able to push it away easily enough, but it haunts him, and he points his blade at Luke, eyes narrowing.]

If you're trying to get me to lose my focus, it won't work! And you haven't earned the right to address me so informally, either!

[Luke takes a step back, but rather than try defending himself from the blade, he keeps his own sword low, pointed to the ground. It hurts. It hurts, because this is his own ideal world, too. It hurts, because this is what makes Asch happy... the world before Luke took it away.

But he could die here. Just keep telling yourself that.]

I'm sorry. I'm...

You know who I am, don't you? Somewhere deep inside, you know who I am.

[Asch doesn't attack - he's young, but not reckless - merely keeps the blade leveled between them, as a defense and a deterrent. His eyes waver at Luke's words, but he doesn't let his sword fall; his grip tightens, teeth clenching, and he raises his voice.]

I... I don't know you! You never even gave me your name. My father is watching, and the guards will come if we call, so don't make any sudden moves!

[From behind him, he can hear the rustling of fabric, and then the quiet call of his mother - "Luke? Are you alright?" - but he doesn't turn. He winces as if he's afraid to look.]

[Luke doesn't turn either, a little wince on his face as if he's afraid to look as well. It's so tempting to drop his sword and go to his mother and say that everything's okay, but then he'd be trapped too. Instead, his own grip tightens, if only to clear his head and focus on the boy - this boy whose smile is already gone, this boy whose happiness is about to be destroyed - in front of him.]

My name... My name is Luke fon Fabre.

[It's not my name. It's yours. I stole it from you and never gave it back. Just like how I stole this whole perfect world of yours, this little spot of sunshine.]

[Hearing that name is like a switch being pulled, a gunshot-trigger right through the heart, and Asch's child eyes widen, his sword arm finally dropping to his side. It's not like he'd forgotten everything that had happened. Those memories were always there, impossible to forget or wipe clean. But living here, being with his family, his friends, his wonderful, near-perfect life had been enough to make him believe that it had all just been a bad dream. He was never Asch the Bloody, some horrible, unhappy soldier who'd lost everything he ever loved to a fake. Things like that just didn't happen to people like him, who was to carry the weight of an entire nation on his shoulders. He was destined for greatness, not a life like that. Not a death like that.

But standing here, face to face with that... fake, that copy, that replica- his replica- it's impossible to keep denying it. The memories are there, fighting with the mind of a child, and he begins to tremble.]

You... you're a...

[Liar. Thief. Enemy.

Replica.

Warm hands suddenly touch his shoulders, and he doesn't have to look to know who it is. His mother is speaking now, quietly asking if he's alright again, gently scolding the replica for startling her son, asking her husband to summon the guards to escort him off the premises. He doesn't look at her. Doesn't have to.

She isn't real. She isn't real and none of this is and they need to get out.

But he can't bring himself to move.]

... I'm a replica. Your replica.

[He ignores their - Asch's - their mother, too. He can see that just saying his name has done something to the child; does he remember now? Does he know that this world is nothing but a trap, and that Luke's desperately trying to get him out?

I'm not about to let you die. Even if it means pulling him away from such a perfect world.]

If all this was real... I wouldn't be standing here talking to you. We both know that.

[Even if it hurts to admit.]

We need to get out of here. [There's a slight tremor to his voice that he soon deals with by clenching his teeth and clearing his throat. He can hear his father call to the guards, he can hear the guards start to rouse from their position; a mechanism to try and get rid of the enemy.

But Luke just keeps his eyes on Asch.]

[It takes a long moment and the footfalls of the guards to finally get Asch to move; in one smooth motion he pulls away from his mother and stands in front of Luke instead, sword half-lifted, arm outstretched in front of his replica. He looks uncertain, almost afraid, and obviously struggling.]

Wait- wait! I... I have questions. I'm fine, don't send him away yet. My lesson's not over.

[His mother smiles patiently, taking a step forward. "Luke, you're upset. This is a situation for adults, so please sheath your sword and go back to your studies before someone gets hurt."

And it doesn't feel right, it doesn't feel like her. Being challenged like that by her son would be hurtful to her. The guards are waiting to see what they do, despite the duke's orders. It's wrong. It's all wrong.

It's too perfect.]

How... how do we get out...

[It isn't so simple as just walking out the door. It's never that easy. He can remember this- remember reading about it, not home but somewhere else, a dim, uncomfortable memory of dreams and shifting and- killing-

...oh god.]

[Luke's instinct is to put his hand on Asch's shoulder as if to support and protect him, but just as he moves his hand, he curls it into a fist, then pulls it back to his side. It's not his place to touch him. He doesn't even know why he thought he could in the first place.

Instead, he finally glances at the guards now that they've gotten closer, then down at Asch as he wonders how to get out. Truth be told, Luke isn't quite sure himself. He remembers reading about it, and -

...

Oh, no.

The realization makes Luke's eyes widen in horror and his hand to move again, moving to cover his open mouth, but stopping once it's over his chest. That's right... That's right, he read...

Asch had to kill whoever the shifter was posing as.

It may be a dream, but these were still people who were important to the both of them. Their parents, Natalia, Guy, Pere, even the guards were ones he'd held conversations with before he was outed as a replica. And he can't - he can't just tell Asch to kill one of them. He just can't. They - They don't even know who it is, it's not like any of them are -

And yet -

Their mother had been acting strangely. She's not one to scold, she's not one to have an unwavering smile in the face of disobedience.

Luke's gaze focuses on her, and he can just see something in her eyes shift. Like she knows that he's figured it out.]

I... I-I can do it. I'll get us out... I swear, I...

[His grip tightens on his sword. Asch - He shouldn't have to do this. The last thing Luke ever, ever wants to do is hurt his own mother in any way, and just the feeling of his sword and her eyes - the same color as his and so familiar and warm despite the calculating gaze they give him now oh god - her eyes on him makes his own blur.

He can't, he can't, he can't, he isn't even sure if it'll work if he does it, but Asch can't either, but they have to get out...]

Edited 2013-04-16 05:03 (UTC)

[The guards begin to approach again, and in desperation, Asch glances back at Luke, hoping those words were true enough to get them both through this. But what he finds isn't determination, or resolve, or the sort of calm that he himself knows that he possesses. The ability to kill without feeling much of anything at all. He'd learned it long ago, after all, even if the memories are still fighting for clarity, even if a part of him still believes that it's all a dream.

The replica - no, Luke, his name is Luke now - is afraid. Distressed, upset. About to cry.

The replica is feeling what he's feeling, but without the ability to bury it, to push it aside until the job is done.

And that right there is the push his mind needs to free itself from the illusion, the recognition of his life, the truth, however miserable and pathetic and empty it is. That's his life. That's his reality. Not this. All of this is just a beautiful, heartbreaking dream.

This, like everything else, has to be taken away from him.

His hand lowers again, the sword dangling from only a few fingers, and he bows his head, stepping towards his mother. She reaches for him, and without hesitation he buries himself in her embrace, eyes closed, arms wound around her. He feels her hand in his hair, stroking like she used to do when he was sick, until the duke found out about it. He indulges in that comfort, trembling against her.

He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to do this.

"It'll be alright, Luke," he hears her murmur gently in his ear. "You're safe now.

I love you."

And then she screams, brief and piercing and ending with a blood-choked cough, because he's thrust his sword up into her back, right through her heart.]

[He's back in his real body again as he lets go of her, allowing her body to fall to the ground, blood pooling around her. He doesn't turn, though he knows Luke is still behind him, merely continues to stare at the corpse at his feet until it, and the dream world around them, fades away.

His voice is quite, muffled, and laced with restrained grief, but he can't contain the words. They need to be spoken, so he's certain that he remembers.]

My name is Asch.

[And you weren't her.]

Edited 2013-04-16 06:04 (UTC)

[Luke had started when the child moved forward and into their mother's embrace, and at first, he felt like panicking. He reaches out a hand and takes a step forward, but soon finds himself with armored hands on his shoulders, another set on his arm to pull it back and behind him, holding his wrists together like he's being held prisoner. And the dream keeps him there, as if to say I won, you lost, look at how pathetic your attempt was.

The image before him is so beautiful that he wants to be taken away.

But that isn't their mother, that isn't, it's - it's just a monster dressed up as her. That's when he starts to fight, pulling against the guards' grip and trying to throw himself towards the two of them, but they're strong. So strong that he grows desperate, because he knows that he might lose Asch, and he can't fail him. He can't let him die.]

Let me go - Let me go - Asch!

[And just as his wild eyes look at the two of them again, he sees Asch act: his sword stabs into their mother's body and she lets out a scream, and for a moment, he forgets the situation they're in entirely. The first sound he lets out is something choked and ugly, and the second is a scream of his own as he wrenches his body out of the guards' grip - which is no longer a grip, as they too fall. All he can see is the blood, his mother, the sword, and all he can feel is the pounding of his heart and the unbearable pain at seeing someone so dear to him being in pain, dead, is doing to him.]

NO!

[But Luke doesn't make it to them. He'd pulled so hard when there was no resistance that he'd fallen to his knees instead, and he finds his fingers digging into the ground - the ground, not the hard stone floor - as he stares ahead, sees Asch return to normal, sees their mother's corpse - bloody and pale and still so beautiful - fade into nothing. The sights and sounds of the war return, yet Luke does not move.

Instead, he feels tears spill over and stream down his face, and each breath he takes is like a shaky battle for air. It's not just the fact that he watched his mother get killed in front of him. It's not just the fact that the world he misses so much is gone.

It's Asch. Standing there with his back to Luke, his voice carrying a certain tone that Luke has never heard before. The fact that he was the one who had to do that, even though Luke swore that he would. The fact that he's back to his own life now, a life that was forced on him by a miserable replica who'd stolen his happiness.

A happiness that was stolen once again.

I did this.

This man standing before him right now, claiming his name - but that's not your name, that's not your name - the replica who didn't ask to be born made him into this.

...

What is he even doing here...?

Luke presses a hand against his face to try to calm himself down. He - He needs to get out of here. He needs to stay away from Asch. After what he did - He even pushes himself off of the ground and gets to his feet, unsteady as he feels. He's... He's probably the last thing Asch wants to see right now, and Luke should at least fulfill that.]

[A part of Asch just wants to collapse himself, to curl up in a corner and scream out his grief for a while. That part of him still remembers so much more clearly than before the child he used to be, just was, only moments before.

There's no time for grieving, though; the Shifter is still alive, staggering and disoriented from being "killed" within their own manifested dream. Anger flares in him - that it's her fault, that all of this is her doing, and she's the one who caused these horrible memories, as if he didn't have enough of those already - and he marches after her as she tries to flee. She doesn't get far, only a few stumbling steps and one more scream (one that haunts, one that hurts, because his mother had screamed like that before she died- not died not died she's alive it wasn't her) as his sword slashes across her back, tearing off both wings and killing her instantly. This time the body doesn't fade, but he has no reason to give it so much as a second glance. It's a stranger, an enemy. Someone that means nothing to him, nothing at all.

But when he tries to turn away he stumbles, his knees buckling, and he drops to the ground, hunched over and shaking, eyes wide, staring blindly at the stone beneath tightly-clenched hands.

Ten years old. He'd been ten years old and he'd murdered his own mother without a second thought, because someone with his face told him it had to be done. And it was true, all of it was true, and it hadn't been her at all. It was fine.

But.

What kind of monster does that?]

[Luke had been just about to leave when he heard another scream (the same as hers), and it makes his gaze shoot up to see what's happening. The Dream Shifter, the one who caused all this in the first place, had just fallen to the ground, and Asch -

Asch, too, is falling, but down to his knees instead of to his stomach. Honestly, it makes a knife of fear stab through Luke's back, the kind that always comes with watching someone close break apart and not knowing what to do for them. It makes Luke stay frozen in his spot for a moment, before his eyes catch movement. Another cultist who saw them and decided that they looked too broken to do anything about an attack.

But Luke feels a flash of anger - no, of fury. That this happened in the first place, that this person would dare try to attack them now. And so, with tears still escaping, Luke meets the soldier head on, and it only takes a few seconds to let out a cry of rage as he slices at his wings, killing the man instantly.

In that same instant, nausea creeps into his stomach. It's that same feeling that comes with killing another, and he can feel that same cold chill start at his fingertips and move to his hands. Yet the feeling doesn't stop - Luke actually has to lean against his sword and cover his mouth while he breathes raggedly, coughing and hunching his shoulders. He feels like he's going to be sick.

He manages not to, though it leaves him feeling weak and exhausted in every way when he recovers. And Asch - Asch is still there, on his knees and staring.

Whatever Luke may feel about himself... he can't leave Asch. Not like this.

He wants to just go to him and throw his arms around his shoulders and hold him until it's all over. But what kind of right does he had to that? Instead, he heads over to him, hesitant, scared, guilty. And when he reaches him, he stands unsure for another second longer before he falls to his knees as well, feeling his stomach lurch at the sudden movement, and slowly reaches up shaking hands. It doesn't make contact, only hovers uncertainly before Asch's shoulders.

Whatever Asch thinks of him... he's here, at least.]

TERRACE Draft - Remaining Days

29th

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