Fate
"Do you think it was fate?"
"Do I think what was fate?"
"That I ended up here?"
Ash snorted, poking at the campfire. "No. I don't believe in things like that. Fate. Destiny. People use it as an excuse to explain away how things pan out, good or bad. But especially bad. Like if how things go wrong and they use it as a story telling device or an excuse to do whatever it is they want to get their own agendas or goals pushed forward without looking like the bad guy. 'Fate divined me to do it. It's my destiny.' It's all crap."
Allen frowned at her from across the campfire, feeling a little deflated at her criticism. Her usual mask of indifference was marred by annoyance.
"You don't have much faith in divine providence or anything of the sort, do you?"
"I'm sorry, but if there really was an invisible omnipotent, omniscient old man hovering about in the sky in the clouds looking down on this planet, I highly doubt he'd waste so much as an iota of thought, let alone a glance, in this particular island's direction and our plight. If I believed in destiny or fate, or anything of that sort, than I'd probably believe that I'm meant to rot away on this godforsaken spit of land and then die. Because that's probably what is going to happen, and no one will know who I was, and no one will give a damn. I sure as hell don't need someone to tell me that, either."
Anger had bloomed about as red hot as the fire in her words, colouring them with as much passion as there was hatred. The campfire, in kind, responded rather savagely. It had risen up high with a hissing shriek. Allen had to jump from his seat and well away from the blistering heat. Ash, predictably, didn't. It washed over her for an instant before retreating just as suddenly. She shuddered, wrangling her control back in.
For a very long poignant minute Ash said nothing. She did nothing. She stared deep into the fire, her mask not quite back in place, but it wasn't completely gone either. Allen slowly inched his way back over to his seat, stopped, then circled around to sit beside her. She didn't react to him, not visibly anyway. She might have glanced his way, but he wasn't quite sure.
"The only way that will actually happen is if you let it. If you give up, then that really will happen! You can't just lay down and let it," he started quietly, his hand inching closer to hers. The moment his fingers brushed hers, however, she was up and moving away from him. He sprang to his feet like a kneejerk reaction.
"Ash—I don't…I don't know how old you really are. And I don't know how long you've already been fighting, I can't imagine living for so long. I can't and pretending to try would be insult, I imagine. But I know what it means to fight, with every fiber of my being against something, to not let myself give up, to walk my own path and not let anyone deter me from it."
She stopped suddenly, and he kept his distance, just in case. Although, he noticed, at least she was listening. One of her pointed wolfish ears twitched in his general direction long enough for him to gather as much.
"If you let yourself be overrun like this—to just give up and accept whatever is thrown at you, whether it really is fate or a kind of destiny, or even if this is all just pure coincidence…then they win. Himiko and her Oni Stormguard win, and the Solarii win as well. Don't let them."
Allen gave pause, then braved a few steps closer towards the smaller werewolf. She tilted her head a little, and he stopped. She didn't move, but she was watching him now from the corner of her golden eye.
"Then what would you suggest?"
"Make your own path. Don't let them make it for you. Keep moving forward, the way that you would want to, not the way they do. If you let them, then they hold that much more power over you. You…"
He stopped suddenly, taken aback when she turned to look at him and at the way she stared at him. Like she was seeing him for the first time.
Like he wasn't some pest or annoyance that was taking up space in her home, a troublesome child to care for, or worse, a pet. She was looking at him as though she was staring at an equal, instead. All of her earlier irritation and anger fled in the wake of her open inquisitiveness. Allen braced himself, unsure of what to make of her abrupt change of heart.
Allen had almost been expecting her to whirl on her heel and tell him to shut it, but at the same time, he also felt he'd needed to say all this regardless. She needed to hear it. Whether or not she acknowledged it…that was an entirely different story.
But he hadn't expected this.
Ash stepped a little closer, watching him with equal parts curiousity and wariness, and it wouldn't have been hard to imagine an actual wolf in her place inspecting something new. For all intents and purposes when she acted like a raptor, she also had her canine-like moments. She stopped short of invading his personal space, eying him sharply.
"You're very strange for a human so young. Anyone ever tell you that?"
He felt a little insulted by the remark, but at the moment, she wasn't glaring at him or talking down on him. It was a rather open remark, he came to recognize. No malice, no reticence. There was almost…well, not quite admiration in her tone, but close enough to it that it gave him pause.
"I…can't say I've met any werewolves before you, so my experience is limited, but I might have to say that same about you."
She snorted, withdrawing a little further away from him.
"I'm not young."
"You look it."
"Looks can be deceiving."
He frowned at her as she retreated another step. "Ash…"
"Get some rest, Allen. We'll be getting up early to go hunt again. Good night."
Allen stared after her, another protest on his lips, before he let it die down completely when a revelation hit him. She's never told him good night before. Not earnestly like she had just done, that was.
This was also, perhaps, the first time they've actually ended a conversation that had started out heated without going to bed upset or angry with one another.
He decided to take the victory, no matter how small it may seem. In his books, it was rather large indeed.
