[Voice]

[explaining]

Man.

[A pause.]

Has anyone ever gotten that sudden rush, where you remember a whole lot of something all at once? Or you think you remember all of it, but then there's pieces missing...

Hahaha wow I'm dizzy. Okay, sitting down.

Um- well all right, I won't beat around the bush. Nami, Zack? Buffy? Draco? Meryl? What about anybody from home? Luke, Asch?

I don't need help, I'm all right to get to the village myself, but a friendly voice would be nice to listen to for the walk in. Maybe some conversation while I catch my breath. Ah, how about- hm. Your first day here in Luceti; how was it for you?

Comments

[nothing]

[dissonates]

[After the last several months, hearing Guy call his name over the journal is beyond surreal. It's something of a surprise to have him back again, but there's no relief or joy to accompany the feeling, only dread and - admittedly for good reason - apathy. He'd benefited in no way whatsoever from Guy's presence in the village last time. If anything he'd lost far too much already to risk it again. After all, why should this time be any different?

Just because he'd been called upon by name doesn't mean anything. He doesn't want apologies, or half-hearted pity, or - Lorelei forbid - any more of that oh-so-useful advice.

"Dig into that little, self-absorbed head of yours and find some goddamn worth in yourself."

....

No. It's just better for both of them if they just stay the hell away from one another. It's not... like they were ever really friends, anyway.

never, never, never

Asch holds the journal quietly for a while, just listening, replaying the words a few times, following conversations, the tone, the phrasing, the words. His name.

Something's off. Something's different, and he knows Guy well enough to recognize that. Saying his name that way, like he's someone worth caring about, like he matters... no, more than that, saying his name, period... maybe he-

....

No, no, no.

never, never, never, never

He shuts the journal without uttering a word, letting it sit in his lap for a moment, brushing a hand over the cover, tracing his name. Asch. Asch. The one he hated. The one he'd always hated.

Even when he'd-

Cursing suddenly, violently, he lifts the journal and throws it across the room, hearing a crash that probably shattered his lamp and not giving a damn, because it doesn't matter, nothing matters, and damn Guy to hell for doing this to him again, again.

It's better this way.]