Comment Addressing
ReDestrobo: Sorry, but I can't spoil what the group is exactly. Even if I tell you the inspiration they base themselves off of, it'll make so many of the future moments/revelations far too predictable. I hope you understand! As for Blake...go ahead and give this chapter a read ;) I never really saw her as entitled or self-righteous, more of a heavily conflicted type who is still trying to understand what she really believes in. thank you for the praise and thank you for giving this story a chance!:D
WiltedGalaxy17: I answered you after your PM, so I'll copy-paste it here AND add my follow-up as now I have a better way to word what I meant. (I'll add only the parts that are relevant to what I mean here)
"""As for your reviews, I actually enjoyed them. I completely understand where you were coming from and in terms of canonical feats, you are/were absolutely right. In fact, I was the one who worded myself poorly. I aim to obviously make Asche a pretty capable MC, though I would prefer to not make him *too* capable. When I said people like Yang could fight him to a standstill, I should have elaborated better... I was in no way trying to say they could blow by all of Dark Souls in a breeze, that would be ridiculous. I meant that certain people fight in entirely unconventional/unpredictable ways. Asche is capable due to his large pool of experience, resilience, and finely tuned amount of skill, yes, he has faced gods and other near-deity-level beings, though that to me, does not mean he is a "win all, take all". Asche has failed countless times, as have most people who play Dark Souls, it is, to me, a common theme in the series. So while I have no plan on the MC being figuratively curb-stomped by 95% of the RWBY cast, I do intend for the Ashen One to still struggle in certain scenarios, largely because of chance circumstances, a bit of luck, and a dash of Asche thinking "What the hell are they doing?".
I wanted to thank you for your reviews, actually. They really helped me reflect on who/what I am trying to write the Ashen One as. While I don't expect to have another combat scene until chapter 17-19, I hope I can better elaborate on his fighting style/pattern. I've largely kept his thoughts a secret with the exception of chapter 15. I do hope you enjoyed the nice little change on chapter 15 though, it won't be a normal thing sadly.
I find motivation through music, reading, and generally letting my imagination take me where it may. I normally plan out each and every story of mine as well, as well as writing down/recording every idea that comes to me. I usually go through a lengthy process of completely planning a story before I begin the writing process. As for *actually* writing though, I've always used writing as a coping skill/as a hobby. It's one of the very few things that makes me feel good/that I genuinely have total control over. I've actually published several dozen stories in the past on Wattpad, but have Thanos snapped nearly all of them due to their poor quality (this was when I was too afraid to write as I do now) Wattpad stories, in terms of fanfics, is a challenging place to get genuine reviews or feedback. I lose motivation on there pretty quickly, I hardly get any comments as is there due to me no longer writing for others/not ruining my stories by turning them into a cesspool for memes."""
In the shortest way possible, the Ashen One that I am writing is not physically god-tier levels of raw strength. Yes, he can outlift almost everyone in Remnant, yes he can shrug off tons of damage, and yes he can pack one hell of a punch. However, he is by no means as strong as the average Dark Souls fanfic protagonist. He relies a lot more on his entire arsenal, speed, wit, and opportunistic nature. When I say "Yang Can fight him to a stalemate", I mean that in the most conventional way possible. No tricks, no gimmick, no weapons, no magic, etc. Straight up throwing hands and nothing else. She still can't exactly overpower him obviously, but would definitely off resistance. He has fought through gods, yes, but everything throughout Lothric was a major pain in the ass. Even the simplest of fodder could clap the champion if he were not careful. As my last and final note, I'm going to be more focused on Asche outmaneuvering his opponents. He will lose most of the time, but that does not in any way mean he is incapable or that some characters are stronger/better in combat than him. mistakes are made, and even someone like Asche can still have the wool pulled over his eyes. Most of my fights/combat do not focus on straight-up brawling, but rather using your circumstance/hand to its fullest. Sorry for all the confusion, but that is what I mean by some characters can incite some struggle.
On a super duper epic final note, people such as maidens, salem, ozpin, etc. Can not only challenge Asche's own creativity/adaptability but also "sort of" match his power to boot. In the absolute end, I am not a fan of writing my MC's to just handle every fight or confrontation, especially those of the soulsborne series. I like failure, growth, and fights that consist of that "you may have outsmarted me, but I outsmarted your outsmarting" feel. From the bottom of my heart, I'm sorry if you don't share that sentiment. Again, I'm not downplaying the AO's feats, nor am I saying anyone in remnant that happens to win a few times can handle all of DS3 with no issues. I'm only saying that duels are not comparable to an entire quest. Anyone can win/lose a duel when circumstance is stacked in their favor/anyone can turn the tables with skill and using every tool under your belt.
Guest: I'm not going to use game mechanics to dictate how the MC acts. I'm fully aware of what the undead can survive as well. I am/Have written Asche in a far different way than most people. In the shortest way, he is a bitterly optimistic type of person. He recognizes the evils of the world, but will not let his experiences dictate how he carries himself. His duty is over. His quest concluded. His suffering paid in full. All that he went through, is no more. Now, all he wants is to live his new life his own way. Happiness being one of the many things he wishes to rediscover.
Guest2: It IS Cinder Fall after all. (ooo, bars). She's arrogant no matter the occasion. I can't see her acting any other way either during the events of Vol 1. As a final note, the Ashen Ones are actually...the scum of scum. They were, canonically, the absolute LAST choice, even below the undead when the lords refused to relink the flame.
TheAberrantShpee: You will receive that answer in time ;) I love writing this and I am proud you love to read it! I hope I don't disappoint you with the future arcs/scenes I have planned! Thank you so much!
Crazzytony: Thank you so much for enjoying it! I hope to keep you entertained with later releases! Also, you will receive your answer in this chapter...obviously, I've hinted other people do know too, but in short, only select people know of Dark Souls related stuff, the exception of the people mentioned in the chapter.
mdey-kk: I'm glad you enjoyed! I'm flattered you binged them, I hope this update pleases you!
WolyfyFenri: You have no idea how much that means to me. I was worried his POV wouldn't sound right, so that's just...AHHH! to hear!:D Thank you for the praise, I'm still trying my best to nail my writing style and I'm glad to hear its coming along nicely so far. I hope you enjoy this new chapter!
CatWithHat: Thank you so much! I hope you like this new chapter!
Joecola00: No, it was not. I've tried fixing it several times but I have yet to see the bold disappear. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but I'm glad you've enjoyed the story regardless! You'll find out in this chapter, I hope it's a nice little...whatever it is:)
||| [DISCLAIMER] |||
RWBY is the property of Rooster Teeth and Monty Oum.
Dark Souls is the property of Bandai Namco and From Software.
The dim room was lit by a single tri-piece candle. A warm amber veil of gentle, near soothing, light flickers; bounding its way across the lilac walls. Shadows that were cast by the various plushies and occasional toys told of a peaceful yet boredom-lacking upbringing. Elementary trinkets, such as ribbons, porcelain tea sets, and photographs of simpler times decorated the spaces of the various pieces of furniture; be it dresser, table, or nightstand.
Tranquility, but most of all, innocence. A small, but comforting room for a young girl.
From the undrawn window, the motherly moonlight basked two figures in a caressing embrace. One, a gentle behemoth of a man, was seated in a stool, overlooking the small child. With the turn of a page, the borrowed fairytale came to an honest end.
"...And they all lived happily ever after." The seated giant spoke.
"Papa! I want another story!" The girl pleaded.
The mountainous man offered the child a comforting smile. After a pleasing exhale of breath, he ran his burly hands across the girl's hair. With each stroke, he gave attention in upholding an air of affectionate tenderness. It was late, later than usual, though he knew a father could never refuse such a demand. "Of course, I'll have mommy grab Three Little Kittens." He said, rising from the poorly sized stool.
The little one pouted, sulking as her arms plopped to her sides. "No, papa... I want to hear a big kid story!" She rose her head, squinting at her father. "I'm a big kid now, I'm ready! I want to be just like everyone else!"
"Oh, but Blake my little girl, you know how scary those stories can be." He softly explained. He now knelt beside his kin, resting his burly hand atop her head.
"I know that, papa!" Blake stubbornly rebutted. Ghira, taken by surprise, retracted his hand as he watched his daughter cross her arms. She was young... but had already picked up on his defiance, something that oddly warmed his heart. "I'm. A. Big. Kid!" She exclaimed.
"My reading level is already at an adult's level, my sensei said so! I've already read tons of serious sad books...I'm ready, papa!" She defied again, a raging fire steadily clouding her heart.
"But, Blake, princess... You hav-" Ghira began to explain.
"Ghira, dear, Blake is right. She's already eight years old" A motherly hymn interrupted.
The other two glanced toward the source, knowing the voice well. Standing there, leaning against the doorframe, was the only woman who could tame the behemoth, Ghira Belladonna. To him, she was lovely in every way, she held no flaws in his eyes, nor would he ever take note of the slightest infraction on her visage. Ghira Belladonna, with all his heart, loved her above all else; their daughter being the exception, of course. Ghira's expression softened at her sight, with Blake gazing in awe past his shoulder.
"Don't you want our sweetest Blake to know of our traditions?" Kali playfully quipped.
"Kali..." He trailed at seeing his dearly beloved.
Ghira and Kali both approached the other, warmly embracing each other. Still in each other's arms, the couple returned to Blake. "You said last month you would tell her the tale soon, you know." Kali softly reminded, earning a defeated "Yes, I know" from her husband.
Feeling as though she now had the upper hand, Blake pressed her request to the forefront once more, reminding the parties of the "dire matter at hand", her bedtime story. "Mama, Papa... I want to hear the story! All the big kids at school talk about it... I-I don't like being left out! I want to hear it!"
"She's our own flesh and blood. Blake, though she has not reached double digits, has been raised lovingly enough to hear our tales." Kali reasoned, stroking the cheek of her spouse. "And besides, with a father like yourself, she'll be strong enough to carry the torch."
"And with a mother like you, she'll be wise enough to hold it dear." The man responded, brushing aside a strand of Kali's hair.
The two held their bodies closer, just as they once did during their younger years. No matter what storm that came, the paired-lovers knew their passion for one another would never fade. Even now, after the many years beside one another, their hearts sang the same melodic chords. Ghira and Kali shared one of many vulnerable smiles, entwining their lips in the others. Each escaped from reality... before a series of gagging pulled the couple to their senses.
"Ewwwww..." A young and queasy Blake winced, covering her eyes with both hands. "You guys are ickyyy..."
Ghira reluctantly pulled from his wife's embrace, mouthing a promise to continue later in the night. Still, though, Kali kept her arms enlocked with Ghira's own. The beastly man lowered himself, kissing his daughter's forehead. Blake giggled as she let her arms fall lazily once again, prickled by her papa's lush beard. "You're absolutely right, mommy and daddy are icky,"
"We have cooties, you'd better not get them either, little Blake." He chuckled, accompanied by an amused and playful nod from Kali. "...But that's another story."
Blake ignored this, focusing on her own childish desires. "Yeah, exactly! Another story! The story, tell me it!"She specified, nearly in a begging tone. "I want to hear about him... the knight of ash!"
Ghira exhaled, it was a long reoccurring scenario, an overdue promise to their shared child. His eyes drifted toward Kali, greeted by an assuring smile and nod of the head. The hand of the burly man tenderly squeezed the slender Kali's own. Locking gazes with Blake, the awaiting girl, Ghira came to a decision.
Blake attended rallies, though young in her years still, it was clear she was more than ready. Like him, she held heart and soul both in the future of their kind. Her passion for literature seeped like an open flame. Yes... of course, she deserved to know.
After all, the Belladonna's were the figureheads of Menagerie, his dearest (and only) daughter of all people should know about the prized heirloom of a story.
"Of course you do, of course, you do...Sit tight, my little princess." Ghira began, releasing his wife to kneel over the girl's bedside once more. "This is a tale the people of Menagerie have held dear in our hearts for generations. The story is symbolic for our kind, it gives us hope, a hope for a more sympathetic and caring future; even in such a cruel and unjust world."
Kali rejoined her husband's side, stroking the hair of their kin as a mother should. With an approving nod from Ghira, she cleared her throat. Though she knew naught at the time, her next spoken words sealed the fate of the child. Blake, in response, let her amber eyes dilate in wonder, youthfully excited to finally understand what exactly she had been kept from knowing until now that is. "This, my sweet little Belladonna, is the story of 'The Last Lord of Cinder'..."
...
...
...
...
...
The fractured moon coated the rooftop in an illuminating light. A miracle to the champion, that the celestial body in its shattered state was able to remain in place, seemingly for eons.
He was never one to keep track of time. It happened so often, likely a result of when one became far too friendly with the distortion inflicted upon Lothric. To avoid missing his "rendezvous" with Blake, "Asche" sat at the roof's edge upon their literal "running-into" each other. On his own estimate, he figured only two hours had passed since then; though his scroll argued that seven had.
The unkindled one held a disposable glass in hand, a deep violet liquid filling to the halfway mark. To his right, on the edge of the rooftop, a large, transparent, hourglass-shaped bottle lay. It, unfortunately, had been emptied after his final refill. Pomegranate juice, something he now drank often, almost dangerously so. With a silent yet thoroughly amused chuckle, he compared his own fondness for the drink to Professor Ozpin's admiration for coffee...
Though his intuition told the champion the headmaster drank something else... Course black tea, maybe? Hot cocoa even? Or perhaps another dark liquid? An answer for another day, he reasoned, shrugging the inquiry away for a later date.
His violet eyes, beneath the silver coffin, scanned over the roof one final time. Madam Blake Belladonna was yet to show... and with his drink now almost emptied, he knew it unlikely for her to appear anytime soon. After rising to his feet, he began preparations to depart and return after acquiring another container of the juice. Thankfully, the academy allowed students to purchase selective products from the school's storage in bulk. It saved a needless trip, though it was not particularly kind to the "Lien '' Ozpin had given "Asche ''.
"Asche" breathlessly straightened his posture after collecting his emptied jug, taking a single step toward where he came. Before he could depart, however, a near apologetic voice halted his trek.
"You made it... Asche." It sounded.
A figure stepped from the shadows, shedding the darkness like a harsh winter's coat. Wearing her signature bow, a sleek yukata meant for sleepwear, and holding two glasses, "Asche" sunk into a relaxing feeling of both familiarity and clarity. She, Madam Blake Belladonna, had finally arrived.
The young maiden stalked toward the champion, moving like an emboldened feline. Once near, she took a seat on the roof's edge, gesturing to the young man to do much the same. At first, the champion waved her offer away. "No, no, it's okay. Please, sit." Blake said, offering the Ashen One a glass she held.
For a moment, "Asche'' refused. But who was he, to deny a simple request at civility? He reluctantly took a place beside Blake. With a bow of the head, he gave grace to Belladonna's hospitality, who faintly smiled in acceptance. His attention drew to the drink in hand... It was pomegranate juice. Though null in sound, his joy shined like the brightest of light as he relocated his straw into the new cup. Had Yang of Patch been present, she might have compared his glee to Ruby's own upon seeing freshly made cookies. If Weiss of The Schnee were in attendance, she may very well have her idolized visage of the champion shattered.
"You know... your mask oddly compliments your pajamas." Blake commented, looking over the champion's simple "sleep" clothing.
"Asche '' halted his splurging for a moment, tilting his head at her words. He wore a simple pair of black sweats, a snug-fitting tee shirt, mid-length socks, and an extra pair of Sky's slippers. Each garment matched in color, save for the occasional ember lining. If anything, he thought he looked ridiculous wearing the cowl, mask, and hat with the uninteresting garbs. Then again, he was never well versed in the art of fashion, especially in such a wondrous new world. To each their own, he assumed.
"The moon is beautiful tonight. No matter how far I go, I just can't get away from it." Bake mentioned, drawing the pair's gaze toward the fractured image. "I should know... All my life, I've been running. But it's always there like it's following me."
Well, of course, it is... it is the moon, after all. The champion of ash absently thought, wondrous as to how Blake believed a planetary body could hold the sentience to move on its own accord. For a moment, he debated whether or not he should ask the girl if she was "right and proper" in the head. Just what had spurred these comments from the maiden? Exactly where was this...
"Even now, I'm still trying to escape from my past. I'm sure you're running from something too. We all are... the two of us most of all. Like, for example..."
...Leading toward.
Of course. It was one of those conversations. He stifled his dubious thoughts, banishing the foolish inquiries to the deepest trenches of his mind. This was no time to be absurd, play the folly of a child, or cloud his mind in useless time-draining thoughts. Madam Blake Belladonna wanted... no; needed to release a burden from her chest.
And seeing as the Ashen One was robbed of speech, he could only settle to simply... listen.
"Ruby. Ruby is... a kind leader, too innocent for her sake, but enjoyable enough so far." Blake began to explain, causing the champion's confusion at why the topic kept abruptly changing. "She's always smiling, always goofing off, and always making sure team RWBY and her few friends are always okay, including you. But from the first day I met her, a day before I met you, I've seen through it from the start."
The young maiden paused, gathering her thoughts. She glanced at the still distracted "Asche'', analyzing every curvature, detail, indent, and speck of his silver mask. For the briefest of moments, she caught the sight of what appeared to be...an eye. Violet in color, a story of the cruelest misfortune painted in the iris. Glistening off the pupil, showing the ironic yet welcomed beauty in such a miserable state.
"Do you know why she eats so many sweets," Blake eventually began, successfully captivating the man's attention once again. "Asche'' swiftly turned his eyes on the woman, a shred of surprise seeping through before being swallowed by the abyss of the mask's hollow sockets. The illusive Blake, however, begrudgingly carried on with her speech. "...or why she is always falling asleep in class? Why she's always so unnaturally energetic? Why Ruby is so idealistic? Or even why she never gets genuinely mad, even at someone like Cardin or Weiss?"
"She doesn't sleep. Ruby hardly does. Our leader thinks eating sweets and taking naps will help her stay happy or keep her going. But It doesn't. Neither does her facade of being always chipper and lively."
Yes, it was now painfully obvious to "Asche ''. Ruby of Patch held what his kind called an "Effigy's Heart", blissful and joyous on the outside, whilst they themself truly experienced nothing of the sort. A tactic used by the crestfallen to trick their sorry souls into believing they were truly happy, even if by the smallest margin. Something like this, such as Ruby of Patch's case, should have been apparent to the unkindled one. He was shameful at how and why he neglected to see past the signs.
No matter, he steeled, Ruby of Patch needs not an onlooker who debates their blindness, but rather a companion to shoulder the weight.
Blake spoke up once more, pulling the masked boy from his silent vow. "I read her dossier, all of them, I even had to go out of my way to read the transcripts from Signal Academy, the school she trained at before coming here."
"After all she's been through, and all the expenses for her well-being, something in my mind just clicked." She elaborated. "You know she's secretly depressed, right? All that burden, the loss of her mother, her dysfunctional family, the expectations, and even the overbearing stress from Yang's overprotective nature... It's too much for a girl like Ruby."
Blake looked away in shame, hesitantly sipping from her drink. She knew what to say when to announce it, and how to deliver the words; though it was by no means an easy task. Her brows lowered and her grip over the cup tightened. After a pause, she braved past her own issues, forcing herself to audibly gulp a portion of her beverage. Believing in her choice, she set her glass aside, casting a side glance at the man to her right. "But just like her, I can see through you too..."
Precisely why the duo had unconditionally decided on meeting in the first place. He wondered when this topic would arise, now receiving his answer. "Asche'', as always, remained silent as Blake carried on.
"I know who, or more correctly, what you are..." Blake started, inciting what appeared to be a sigh from the champion. "I know you don't belong here, I know you shouldn't be here, and I know you won't be attending Beacon indefinitely. But..." She halted, lowering her voice to a near murmur.
"I don't belong here either..." Her voice nearly whimpered. "I'm a coward, Asche. I ran instead of trying to fix things... and I doubt that'll change. Ruby braves everything herself, neglecting the help of others, I feel miserable for her. You, though... I envy you."
Envy, it was in the hearts of all mankind. No matter the age, jealousy was sure to follow... as well as many other trifling elements, such as greed. Though, why should someone, especially those of the living, saunter over what the undead hold? The scorched undead, nevertheless. Nothing about the state was a kind tradeoff, no matter how tempting the falsely promised ring of darkness seemed. Being undead, twice over not to mention, was a waking nightmare in even the calmest of settings. One could never adjust to this type of existence, but rather... coexist with it.
"You've run because you earned it. You can escape because you won back that choice. You flee and masquerade as a simple boy because it's what you consider your own peace."
Hm... Not quite. There was merit to her feeling, though it was slightly uneducated. "Asche '' had not run, but rather neglected his sole duty in the most defiling manner. He, really, had not earned this "second chance". It was a mere coincidence at best, though the supposed "punishment" was anything but the payment for his misdeed... mentally, he rapped his hand against an article of polished wood. Wouldn't want to jinx ourselves just yet, now would we? He mused.
"The Champion of Ash, a nameless and accursed undead. A chosen yet persecuted unknown who failed long ago, doomed to be burnt into nothingness, only to reemerge as a being of ash wrapped in human skin." Blake announced, solidifying that she did in fact, know exactly what the boy was. Another apparent sigh escaped the boy, his own gaze lowering into one of shame. That is at least until Madam Blake Belladonna carried on. "And despite it, a man who rose over all else, shattering the endless cycle of flame."
"And now, you've returned. No longer among the undead, and no longer passed off as mere ash, no longer being hailed as The Last Lord of Cinder... but as a Moon-Crested Knight, letting only the wind, and obviously, the moon itself guide you."
"I've admired you ever since I first heard your fairytale... But now, I know it is no fairytale. More like, a piece of genuine history, long past our own age."
Blake took another draught from her cup, setting the beverage aside before clearing her throat. "Out of respect, I won't tell anyone about who you are. Even if I did, I don't think anyone outside of Menagerie would ever believe me. Just little old me being delusional, as... some might say..." Despite the air of sadness near the end of her assurance, the Ashen One thanked the many gods. Whilst Madam Blake Belladonna enthralled herself in a curtain of sorrow, "Asche" bathed in springs of clarity within his muddled imagination. He had been skipping through a field of flowers, as Blake shuddered on a bench during the rain, his secret was kept...for now. "Besides, I know all too well there are some things better left unknown..." She added.
"But I would like to ask you something." She prodded, shattering "Asche's" vivid depictions yet again. Curious, he gave a small nod of the head. Taking her chance, Blake bit her bottom lip. Permission was granted yet... would she or rather, could she really bring herself to ask? "It's something I've always wanted to know since I was still a little girl..."
A hand from the champion found its way onto her shoulder, drawing her attention to the boy once more. His violet eyes shone through for the faintest moment, disappearing at the comforting nod he gave.
Blake Belladonna felt a shift in the air, a strange and distant newfound confidence filling her doubt. It was a personal inquiry, one she felt she knew the answer to already. However, many details were left out of the tale, history had been altered by historians so often, that even family held stories were kept vague in order to neither confirm nor deny events from the past... it would, unfortunately, spark corruption in the long-loved fables when brought to the attention of indecent and self-absorbed outsiders.
"...Your mask, your shotel... They aren't yours, are they?" She reluctantly asked. "They belonged to a friend, right?"
"Asche" lowered his gaze once more.
He shook his head a single time, ever so slightly. Against his wishes, the pair was basked in prolonged silence. The masked knight felt the sympathetic gaze bear into his side, something he prayed would disappear soon. It was agonizing, though not in an infuriating sense.
Pulling his own attention away, "Asche'' set his eyes upon the broken moon again. He sought any sort of interest, no matter how insignificant into the celestial body. Slowly, he began drowning the unsettling attention from Madam Blake Belladonna with his lackluster observations. Eventually, Blake caught onto his unsteady demeanor, pulling her attention elsewhere in her relatability. She heard the unkindled one's body rise and fall slowly, an exhale of relief. After a small smile and roll of her eyes at the particular man's predicament, she broke the silence.
"They must have meant a lot to you." She assumed, her smile growing at "Asche's" more relaxed and open confirmation. "Come on, let's go. We'll need to sleep soon anyway." Blake prodded, rising to her feet as she pulled the other student to his feet.
The young maiden took "Asche" by the hand, leading the pair back within the hallway of Beacon's dormitory wing. Their walk to the respective rooms was uneventful, as every other student had long since retired to their own rooms. The lights were dimmed, their footsteps echoing, and Blake's much cheery voice filling the gap of silence.
Soon the duo arrived at a door largely familiar to Blake. The nameplate above the assigned number read "Team RWBY'', the unkindled one immediately registered where the two were. Blake, before saying her goodbyes, paused at the entrance to her team's dorm. After a moment, she turned to face the muted student.
"Hey Asche, Out of everything you could have chosen, why did you pick the name Asche Embers? Do you not remember your real name?" She wondered in a hushed voice.
Like before, she received a predictable answer... The former lord of cinder could not recall his own given birth name, nor a moniker. "I see... Well, for what it's worth, I think the new one has a nice ring to it." She said, placing a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder.
Flattered, though slightly wounded at the implication he was uncreative, the masked hunter gave a bow. As he straightened his posture, he caught the slight humored smile of Blake. Following this was another pause, Blake wearing a conflicted face. "Asche '' tilted his head, gesturing to the girl to carry on with what she was internally deciding... to which she complied.
Blake pulled the boy close, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a hug. She was raised admiring this man, captivated by his feats, inspired by his will to move past his unforgiving quest... And now, he was here. In the "flesh", as one of her companions. "Suck my fat fucking dick, Adam." She thought, knowing she would never dare say such a thing aloud.
The embrace triggered "Asche's" flight or flight-er response, inciting him to try to wriggle out of the girl's grasp... to no avail. Her hold was stronger than the scales upon the stone dragons, her strength rivaling the might of Havel The Rock himself. And soon... he relented.
The two newly established friends mutually held the other, though "Asche", counted down the seconds. Like the grandest of wishes, Blake slowly pulled away, separating the two. The unkindled one took this time to thank whatever deities reigned over Remnant, downing kegs of Siegbrau within his nonexistent dreams.
As now customary, his celebration was interrupted by Blake's final goodbye.
"Goodnight, Asche." She concluded, disappearing into her dark bedroom
||| [BONFIRE: LIT] |||
||| ["...Don't You Dare Go Hollow."] |||