A flicker of judgment

Chapter 2

They ran, the whole of Auldrant between them. With whoops and giggles they ran round and round, the details of places blurring in their play. Gripping the edges of six thick bars, each the color of different fonons, he hollered.

"Can't catch me!"

His play mate, curled locks damp with sweat, teeth flashing in a broad smile, only laughed. Never one to admit defeat. To that he laughed and gained, and for a while he was chasing her around and around. Then, it was his turn to slow, as he caught his second wind, and at that opening she snatched the trail of his red locks, gave a teasing tug. He yelped, picking up speed, indignant all the while. That just wasn't fair, girls weren't supposed to run that fast! Still irritation was lost, and their play wound on, ran on, and as he ran he held tight to those thing threads of metal.

The world spun after them for that.

Another tug on his hair told him it was time to let go, so he did, and went faster for it.

"You get back here!"

"Gotta catch me first!"

At his final pull the whole worlds rather stilted spinning's… changed. It spun madly, roiling and rocking on it's confines. Axels chasing axels. Unaware that Auldrent was spinning in impossible ways, in mad, crazed gyrations that hinted at some subtle breaking, he taunted and she followed.

Their bare feet padded along bronze walkways, along that span that circled a world. Feet flapping, long hair flowing, they ran on and on. Geography lesson forgotten in their impromptu round of "tag", and "can't catch me's" that made their game so fun. Laughing, knowing she shouldn't and not really caring -like she should- she forgot everything save the goal of keeping him in sight. He was too fast, as always. One bend beyond once she got there, perhaps she saw a bit of green as he'd look back (but that was rare, so very rare) and he'd never slowed. Not intentionally anyway.

"Luke, wait for me!"

Her voice, so young, seven and a day, he eight, they ran round and round, oblivious of the chaotic twirling of the world between them both.

Scandalized, raised in anger, a voice cried.

"Master Luke, your… your highness… You get down there this moment!"

Obedient, both of them skidded to a stop. Gripping the rail, smiling wide and looking down at his Father's head of house, Luke fon Fabre hollered.

"Hi Ramdas!"

"M…" Lips twitching, fighting to remain stern, Ramdas fought and failed at glaring at his young charge. "Master Luke," A choked sound too close to being a snicker for it to be anything else. "This is hardly appropriate behavior for you or the princess to be engaging in."

"Even for our age?" Luke bantered down to his servant. Being a bit older, he knew something about both "appropriate", and "rules", and knew that they could be bent around the edges if need be.

Smiling, indulgent, pseudo anger fleeing in the face of logic, Ramdas sighed. "Possibly. Now get down there this instant."

Ever obedient, they left their play, pacing alongside slick banisters, in steps that seemed regal and serious.

Their shining eyes however gave them away.

With a quiet laugh the servant met them at the stairways base, and once they both were down he pulled them close, held them both tight.

"Are we… in trouble…" Utterly bewildered, for she hardly knew Ramdas at all, Natalia stiffened at the man's fierce grip.

"Only if he starts scolding us again." Luke confided.

Hearing them both, for though one was younger than her years and the other older neither were subtle nor had they bothered with whispers, Ramdas chuckled.

"Next time." Letting them loose, Ramdas smoothed out one child's hair, patted the other's head. Soothing worries without words. There were times, after all, when words weren't needed. "You are to inform the Manor that you are leaving for the Castle, Master Luke."

"Yes, Ramdas."

"And you, your highness, are running late for your geography class."

"Umm.." Looking first to the grinning Luke and the smiling Ramdas, Natalia dithered. They had been doing something wrong after all, and had been caught. But… this didn't sound like trouble, or a lecture, or anything else she was used too. "Alright…"

Turning on his heel, the servant in Fabre livery quietly paced away, using each step to compose his features. Once at the libraries door, he turned. Once more a composed, member of house Fabre's staff.

"Come along, Master Luke," extending a hand, the servant waited.

"Coming Ramdas." And though he said coming he lingered a moment, turned to Natalia, face still baring it's wide smile though he stammered something fierce. "Are you… could we… maybe tomorrow?"

Not knowing what she was agreeing too, only knowing he smiled, (such a rare thing, like his looking back) she responded to that smile, never knowing what she was getting into.

"Always. I… I mean, any day that you can come, that you aren't busy..."

And despite sounding unlady like, and un noble like, she agreed, and he smiled….

And though neither looked up to see, Ramdas was smiling too.

And behind them both, beyond them all, Auldrant spun and shivered, subtly broken yet still turning.

XXX

Snapping up a hand up, he made her stop without a word. Kneeling, he studied the cobbles of a town long submerged. Sand hissed from above, staining the filtered sunlight a dirty brown. By such light he strived to see, green eyes thinned, posture rigid. As for her, her shoulder's ached. Since they were stopped she tipped her quiver, snatching the few arrows in her hand she let sand and a sizable stone -how that happened was beyond her- tumbled out.

"Achp.."

Slapping a hand over his mouth, muffling the sneeze at the last moment, Lu- no Asch- glared up at her. He didn't have to say anything, his expression was vibrant, varied, though the spectrum (frustration, irritation) that he drew upon was a bit base.

Smiling as sincerely as Colonel Curtiss, Natalia set her arrows in the now empty quiver and said nothing. To that, Asch glared up at her, patient, waiting. When he caught the finality to her silence he grunted, then snapped a hand over his mouth to muffle another sneeze. Rubbing his nose, eyes watering, the man known as "the bloody" stood. My, he seemed almost sensitive to this fine sands. That thought was also a bit… base, and unclothe besides, but it caused her to smile, just a little bit wickedly.

"Are you done gloating over my discomfort yet?" Asch snapped, irritated, sniffling.

Not liking the man's tone in the least, Natalia simply smiled and let her hazel eyes glimmer with mirth. "My quiver is cleaned out now. The outside however could do with a firm dusting."

"Appease your vanity later, princess." Asch grunted, sparing another moment to swipe at his eyes and snort.

"I've never heard of anyone allergic to dust before."

"Well now you have." Asch the bloody snarled.

Biting her lip to hold back a peal of laughter, Natalia coughed delicately into a fisted hand. Then a thought came to her. This wasn't exactly Asch, per say… It was Luke after all. Asch was merely using Luke was a mouthpiece, brutally victimizing her fiancée for whatever beastly reasons were his own… So, did that mean that Luke was allergic to dust? Realizing that by irritating Asch she was putting Luke through such unseemly straits her laughter fled and a hot flush suffused her cheeks.

Oblivious to it all, Asch the Bloody swatted at his pants, shaking out dust and dirt and trying valiantly not to cough or sniffle.

"I.. apologize."

To that Luke looked up, or rather the man controlling Luke lifted her fiancée's head for him. Expression clean of irritation, he looked at her incredulously, for that one moment it could have been Luke. For that one moment, Luke could have been Asch, or Asch could have been Luke, the expression was that… genuine.

Checking a shiver, Natalia tried a smile instead, the type that got her through audiences and meetings that were particularly boring and tiresome. It was a reflex, to grin and bare it, something not trained into her by tutors and the like, merely a impulse all her own.

Taking a half step back, hands clasped behind her back, Natalia swallowed. Green eyes glimmered, locked in a rigid facade of fear all their own that was eerily disassociated with the speakers own manner. He gazed up at her, green eyes glistening, trapped, tortured...

Looking way, resolutely studying the ground at her side, the princess of Kimlasca Lanvaldear continued.

"I should not be playing on your weakness, nor teasing you. Both actions were rather… cruel, and for that I apologize."

Looking to her, only her, tracks and trails forgotten, Asch the Bloody opened Luke fon Fabre's mouth, closed it, then opened it again. No words tumbled out, not a sound at all.

Finally, in a tone half pain, half something else, he managed. "And to whom, princess, do you apologize too?"

"To… well… both of you, of course."

Cracking a small smile, a cynical curl of the lips, so small that she could scarcely see it -but it was expected, that snide slant, almost anticipated- Asch the Bloody snorted.

"Pft of c.. cour.."

His sentence and it's accompanying snarkiness were felled at the force of his sneeze. To that, and the non pulsed look on the man's face, Natalia couldn't help herself. She laughed, not even bothering to try to make it look like a cough this time. Snarling, indignant, Asch glared up at her. Then, as her laughter went on and gently wore on his facade of indignation, Asch's lips quirked into a smile. This one was a thousand times better than the last, for it had little acid to it, only a ghost of bitterness.

"It's not that funny, damn it."

Her laughter, growing louder and more sure, told him that yes, actually, it was that funny.

"For the love of Yulia," -a cough, a barely averted sneeze if he'd ever had one- "you're exasperating, you know that?"

Natalia only laughed harder.

"Oh, come on!" Snatching her hand in his own, Asch closed Luke's fingers over her own, all but dripping exasperation. "We're leaving!"

With only a light tug on her wrist to usher her his way, he lead, and she followed, pacing down cobbles and eventually down steps that seemed, in the uncertian light, to be made of brass. Or perhaps the dark hue was copper, or perhaps bronze. Whatever it may be, it was made more preceious for the shaky quality of thier illumination. Still sniggering, eyes dancing -as did his, a quick glance back on his part showed her that his did too, present restrictions aside- they padded down the stair well, hand in hand. Shadows smoothed the nicks and burs along the way, in thier black folds quietly taking the edges from thier sight as they descended.