Oh Captain, My Captain

When Roana had tried to halt her, to tell her there was still work to be done, Ashe had bared the fangs of a wolf with an animalistic snarl, stared at her with deadened eyes before ripping from her grasp with Ronin's bracers held against her chest. There was no more work to be done. Not right now. They had fought and bled and defeated the spire demon.    But they had still lost, hadn't they?    'Live.'    The sight of him rising to the stars swam in her vision.    A roguish grin.    Brilliant laughter on a wave-crashing shore.    Nestled together in the boughs of a fallen pine.    Hanging on his arm when she couldn't stand.    Loopy belladona smiles.    Borrowed time.    Stolen time.    He had stolen her that time.    Ashe limped on. The tears just kept coming, she thought distantly that they should have run out by now, but silently, they. just. kept. falling. Remi had gotten quite the distance ahead of her - stronger than her, he'd taken that explosion well. Ashe wanted to fall to her knees, to just.. stop. Her brother had stopped. Shouldn't the rest of the world have stopped too?    Percy found her then, trotting up to her. She slowed and reached her hand out - burned, bleeding, her whole right arm - and leaned her weight against the lame and bleeding stallion as he came up beside her. His hide was peppered in blood and scratches and superficial burns, his muscles quivered, but the faithful stallion huffed a hot breath against her neck. She might have mumbled thanks to him, she wasn't sure, but they continued on. Despite her burns, cuts, her left arm near useless, legs, arms, ribs, face, all bleeding, her feet kept moving. Tugged forward by that ever present tether to Kalt , perhaps the only thing keeping her lucid just then.

Kalt you must teach your sense of self to stand upon its own two feet    He didn’t fully comprehend what just happened. What just happened? He had been on the sidelines of the fight when he should’ve been out there, he should’ve been fighting with them. And now, Ronin was gone. Ashe’s brother was gone. Dead. It didn’t seem real.    Death was normal for the assassins, a part of their lives since they were children. Never before had it been shocking, but it just... Gods, it was like the world was freezing over. Everyone was stunned, almost desperately. It didn’t seem real.    Perhaps the only thing that kept him aware of the true direness of the situation was the feeling of agony and disbelief that thrummed down the bond from Ashetta to him. Even Kysma was feeling the side effects of Ashe’s distress through her rider. Her rider. He was on her back already.    Kalt remembered himself, urging the unicorn into a brisk cantor away from the spectating crowd and towards the fighters. Remi had gone off, as had Roana, leaving Ashe leaning on Percy as support for the way back. As soon as the man drew near, he slowed Kysma to a walk and swung down from her saddle before she had stopped. He looked at her for a moment, his voice caught in his, and for one of the few times in his life, he had no ideas what to say.    As Kysma moved forward to nudge the stallion with her nose, Kalt closed the distance between himself and Ashe, taking her securely in his arms and squeezing his eyes closed. Relief at her safety and grief at Ronin’s loss swam in the flood of other emotions he couldn’t pick apart, that he didn’t try to pick apart. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. instead of propped up on the views of every person that you meet Ravenshire

Ashe dimly registered the sound of hooves approaching, but her eyes were flickering between the ground and the bracers. Lost in a churning ocean of grief that she would drown in, she didn't quite register that it was Kalt who drew near. She stopped herself from glancing behind her, just to check, just to see if maybe Ronin would climb out if that pit and make some tasteless joke about the whole thing.    She had watched him join his Vanya in the stars.    Ashe finally looked up when Percy himself stopped, forcing her to. Kalt approached her, looked at her, and she stared up at him with fractured eyes, with tears that still streaked through the blood and dirt upon her cheeks. This isn't real, she tried to tell herself. It was like she wasn't in her body anymore, all the injuries, none of it was there.    Kalt enveloped her into his arms, settling around her with unwavering solidity. She made no sound at first, no movement. Then he said he was sorry, as if he had anything to do with what just happened - What just happened? Where is Ronin? - and she brought her arms around him as best she could. Her hands clawed into his shirt as his presence hit her fully, his heart beating under her head. She willed herself to scream, to cry, to rage.. but nothing came. Only those silent tears, the trembling of.. shock? Was she in shock?    Her eyes stared out from where she clung to her soul-bonded, the ravaging, aching of her soul grasping for the warm, unwavering tether there.    He hadn't gone. He hadn't left her, he hadn't left them all, he didn't go. But she could still see him rising. She would never be able to capture the brilliant color and light he had become within paints and pigments no matter how perfect her memory. It was that thought that had her tears moving hotter, faster.    It was over, the beast was dead, and so was -    "I want to go home," she whispered in a strangle voice.

Kalt you must teach your sense of self to stand upon its own two feet    There was a deep ache in his chest, but he knew most of it was an effect of Ashe’s pain traveling him. While it was true he and Ronin hadn’t really associated personally, he knew the man, and he was one of the few people that Kalt genuinely respected. While it was a tragedy that no one had expected, the assassin felt that Ronin went down the only way that anyone should; he died fighting. That was something to be proud of.    He held onto Ashetta as long as she held onto him, always trying to be the last to release her. She managed to say that she wanted to go home, and he simply nodded, touching a gentle kiss to her forehead.    Kalt clicked his tongue twice and brought one hand in a downward movement, a direction that Kysma recognized meant to kneel to the ground. He knew Ashe would be able to mount regardless, but if it wasn’t necessary, he wasn’t going to make her do it. Besides, he knew that Percy would follow them home. “Let’s go,” he said, encouraging her onto the saddle. As soon as she mounted, he would climb behind her and take the reins in his hands.    Kysma groaned slightly, getting to all fours again with both riders on her back. He swallowed the pain he believed was his own, trying to keep her from sharing more pain than was necessary. She had lost her brother today, so whatever it was that he was feeling didn’t matter. He just knew that they needed to get away from everyone, to get home. ~end thread~ instead of propped up on the views of every person that you meet Ravenshire