lucetilogs | TERRACE Draft

Entry tags:

TERRACE Draft - Remaining Days

Who: All Draftees
What: All hell breaks loose
When: From the 27th to the 1st.
Where: TERRACE!
Summary: Information post here
Rating: Varies on thread, please mark explicit material.

This post covers the second to sixth day! Be sure to check the info post on the timeline to know what's up. At 2AM on the 27th, the attack will break out while most people are sleeping. Be sure to use the above info post for any plotting needs you might have. Enjoy!

Some random NPC quotes about the island itself.

Be sure to tag this post appropriately: [canon] character name

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[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.]

[Even lost in his thoughts as he is, Asch can feel Luke there, how close he is, the way he's almost touching, but not quite. He ducks his head lower, hand lifting to cover his face, and he half-jerks away from the hands even before they can touch him, his body trembling.]

Don't-

[His voice catches, and he curses inwardly, trying again.]

Don't touch me...

[He doesn't want to be held or consoled or comforted. He killed his mother. Their mother. Who wasn't. Dammit. And even more than that - which is horrifying in its own way, what he values right now - he doesn't want Luke to see his distress. That killing a fake would be enough to break him like this, enough to make him weep...

To cry over the body of an enemy is shameful, pathetic. He'd been raised to recognize this. He'd mocked Luke for it before. But his body just won't stop.

All he can do is hide it- his shame, his grief, his pain. It's all he's ever known to do.]

[The words cut into him, because while a part of him (the part that's grown with Asch these past few years, the part that's been buried but still calls out to him on occasion) knows, knows why Asch is saying that, the other believes that Asch is lashing out at him, because he's a replica, trash, dreck, the one who took everything away from him. He winces as a result, and his hands fall slightly, hovering as if unsure whether to move forward or pull back.

With Asch in the state he's in now, Luke wants to defy all that and press Asch's face to his shoulder, look away so that he can weep if he needs to. But...

Luke bites his lip, and he curls his fingers as he slowly pulls his hands back until they rest lightly against his lap. He looks away, too, physically turns his head away to look at their battlefield instead. That hidden part of him knows that Asch never, ever wants to be seen like this, least of all by Luke. So, he doesn't look.]

... Then I won't.

Edited 2013-04-16 07:38 (UTC)

[Asch makes a faint, muffled sound at that - to acknowledge it, to express gratitude, to show anger that Luke's still even here - but it's too muffled, too incoherent for it to be understood. He doesn't look up or respond in any other way, and he doesn't move again. He's perfectly content to ignore Luke entirely- even if he does permit his presence for the moment.

It doesn't last very long, either. They're still on an active battlefield, and he won't allow himself to be trapped like that again. Within a few tense minutes he pushes himself to his feet, retrieving his sword, flicking off the blood and feathers, and sheathing it. With his hand down it reveals that his eyes look strained, but his cheeks are dry. He glances briefly at Luke, as if daring him to say something about it, then merely brushes past him and starts back towards the base. He doesn't want to talk about it, he doesn't want to acknowledge it, and he does not want to hug it out.]

[Luke looks up at Asch when he stands, and thus he catches that glance. He meets it and doesn't waver, and he doesn't say a word, either. How could he? He looks like a complete wreck compared to Asch.

Then Asch is moving past him, and Luke simply stares at the spot where his original was for a moment. Just a moment, though, because they are on an active battlefield.

So Luke wipes at his cheeks, takes in a breath that sounds far too much like a hiccup instead, and goes in the opposite direction. Right now, he feels like they both need to be far away from each other.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

TERRACE Draft - Remaining Days

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

no subject

1/2

2/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject