Ashton sighed softly, his eyes turning to the window almost longingly. A soft white blanket of snow coated the outer sill, and as far as he could see the rest of the land that his home was surrounded by... though a touch of green he could see to the far right from the garden, that was not natural -- rather protected by an enchantment.
On his shoulders, two dragons fidgeted anxiously, seeming to portray how their host felt.
It would have been somewhat comical to see him sitting there. He wore nothing more than a pair of black boxers, because the warmth from the flickering fireplace would allow nothing more, However, he was unwilling to douse the flame, in fear the he might rouse the blonde sleeping in the bed nearby with a chill.
He didn't think about that, though. Something unmistakably sorrowful rested in his expression. How selfish he was considering himself, as he sat there pondering what more he could possibly want. He was alive; he had survived great trials and journeys on both Expel and Nede. He possessed whatever he desired; vast fortunes were taken by himself and the others from their quests. He was loved; the beautiful warrior he had once fallen for had not once left his side.
So why did he know this incessant feeling that something was amiss?
Slowly, the young man stood. He let out a soft sigh, then scanned the room uncertainly. His gaze lingered on the sleeping form in the bed for a few long moments, then his decision was set.
He walked to a desk in the corner of the room and sat at its chair.
The dragons were oddly subdued.. Usually they would be fighting, snapping at Ashton, or
attempting to wake the world with their damnable crowing. Now... they were silent.
'Dearest Crawd,
I can hear you sleeping even as I write this... I suppose I should wake you, but I know I wouldn't be able to leave if I did so...
There's something I need to do. I can't tell you what it is, because I myself do not fully know. I just feel it, inside of myself. Something here is not what I am meant for... something is missing.
Please don't come after me, if you wake when I leave. I don't want you to... I don't want to face you yet. I may not be gone so long as it sounds, if only I can find what I'm missing. It may be right outside of our door...
I love you Crawd Kenni. I don't want you to worry about me. I can take care of myself.'
Ashton stared at the note once he finished it. How many times had he written the same letter, only to crumple it and toss it into the fire...?
The dragons crooned softly into his ears. His hand trembled, but he could not back down again. Something told him this. Something inside of his screamed that he must go... he must go now. He set the pen to the paper, then scrawled his name in flowing script.
He folded the paper, then paused. The swordsman held it for many a long moment, his thoughts uncertain to an extreme. Then, in a moment of realization, the thoughts unfurled and cleared into one mind set.
He put the paper on the desk, and printed one final word on the front.
Crawd.
He stared at the name. He almost willed himself to cry. To be upset. To be angry... to be anything. But nothing came. Nothing. Only a strange, solemn relief... relief that he was doing what he was... meant to do.
A moment later he stood. If he did not go now, he would never make it out of the room. He would tear the letter to bits, shred it and toss it to the flames, all thoughts of his action ignored once again.
He moved to the closet. In the back, his old armor and fighting clothes hung, untouched for so long that dust puffed and clouded when he pulled them from the rack. He set the outfit on the table nearby, then tied the headband on first -- and old ritual of his to keep his hair out of his face. The cloth was next, then the armor, then his shoes and cape and gloves. The dragons made still no sound... they knew what was in his head, and they were not protesting it.
The raven-haired man paused, finally letting the true effect of what he was doing sink in. He swallowed as his throat went dry, and looked at Crawd. He had to do this. He couldn't pretend any longer... he couldn't look at him the same anymore, and he had to leave.
"Goodbye, love," he whispered softly as he turned to the door. His swords were mounted on either side of it; the final step occurred as he grabbed them on his way out.
A heavy feeling weighted down on his shoulders as he shut the door, but at the same time, a great burden was lifted from him. He wasn't free yet... but he was nearing completion.
With an unprecedented shot of adrenaline, he dashed down the hall. Fear, excitement, uncertainty; all mixed together finally, giving Ashton a much needed, and wanted, boost.
He flew out of the house and didn't stop. The dragons finally made noise as the cold air hit them; great howls of excitement lept from their throats as Ashton ran.
The cape rippled behind him, stirring up snow flurries that tried to fall and whipping up the snow drifts that tried to rest peacefully. He couldn't stop... his legs moved almost of their own accord and the dragons whistled and crowed blissfully from his back.
Soon, branches of trees whispered overhead and the sound of fleeing snowbirds echoed quietly through the woods into which he ran. The fresh, glistening snow was torn from its place, spilling back into messy heaps.
Then -- it happened.
Ashton's foot caught on something, and he went sprawling face-first into the ground; he landed with a loud 'oof'. Gyoro and Ururun, the dragons, screeched in both fear and anger as they too nearly hit the ground.
The raven-haired man did not move for a bit. However, once the chill of the snow began to set in, he pushed himself up slowly and shifted around in the snow.
At first, he couldn't tell what he had tripped over. He crept over the soft white powder, probing into it with his hands to try and find anything he might've tripped over. He was certain he hadn't fallen on his own, though the dragons weren't so convinced -- their chiding whistles were ignored as he looked.
At last, his fingers brushed across something and a wave of relief washed over him -- though, it was short-lived. Ashton's heart nearly stopped when a low, barely-audible groan was elicited from under the blanket of snow. He glanced up at the dragons, but they were silent and staring in the direction the sound had come from.
The man's hands trembled as he pushed the chilly fluff away, but nothing could prepare him for what he found buried beneath it.
It was a human, though the word 'angel' sprang to mind when Ashton's gaze rested on him. Long tresses of frozen silver hair framed a gorgeous face and what part of his body Ashton had unearthed. His half-open eyes fluttered lightly, as though he was very tired and struggling to stay awake. Though dimmed, the irises' turquoise color was still... quite intense. His lips were faintly parted, though discolored to a pale violet. Small puffs of vapor rose from his mouth, but it was obvious he wasn't breathing properly.
Ashton froze, staring at what could only be the embodiment of a divine creature. His mind went blank, and a few precious moments were wasted by the reeling of his discovery.
However, the dragons were not so affected by the man's beauty. Ururun bit its host on the ear, which jarred him back to reality. It was then he finally seemed to comprehend that yes, this was a real person, and yes, he was dying. Something inside him snapped, and he nearly panicked. He would not, could not allow him to die.
Scooping the freezing being into his arms, Ashton stood and turned, beginning to run again -- back to where he had come from. A deep dread knotted in his stomach; the nearest place he could go was home -- but he wasn't ready to go back there yet, especially if Crawd had awoken in the time that had passed since he left.
He ran through the path he had cleared only minutes -- or was it hours? -- ago. The dragons leaned down on his shoulders, making it easier for him to move. They also bit on the cape, causing it to flutter and land on the ground. The man he carried was extremely tall... moreso than he had expected.
The raven-haired man went as fast as his legs would carry him, and the feeling of dread withered away as his muscles began to sting and his lungs rasped in the cold air. He could see the house now; the door was shut -- Crawd was awake.
He stopped only long enough to open the door, then rushed in. He headed straight for the bedroom -- the warmest place in the house.
He paused briefly outside the door, but had little time to reconsider as the door opened, revealing Crawd -- and a quite disheveled one at that.
"A-ashton...?" Crawd reached up, wiping at one tear filled eye. He looked down at the person that Ashton carried, but not for long -- he was shoved out of the way.
"Crawd, move!" Ashton's voice was harsh, with a slight, panicked edge to it. The words seemed to strike the blonde deeply -- he hung his head a bit and didn't say anything.
The raven-haired hurried in. He glanced toward the fireplace and, finding it lit, set the silver-haired being in front of it. He knelt, then glanced back to Crawd.
"Look... Crawd... this man is freezing to death. If you're not going to help, then it'd be better if you just left! I don't need the pressure of you standing there crying over me right now...!" He hadn't meant to be mean, but... he couldn't quite manage. He turned back to the man below him right before a quiet sob and a slamming door echoed through the room.
Ashton sighed gently, then sat back on his heels. Taking a moment, he tried to fully assess what was happening and what he should do... then he noticed a bit of water leaking out from under the other's hair. It dawned on him to dry him.
However, he wasn't entirely sure how to... begin with the clothing. He shook his head, then reached down and pulled the man's gloves off. A soft noise of protest arose from his lips, but Ashton ignored it. Next, the swordsman set on the buckles across the man's chest. It took him a few moments, but he managed to undo them. He then lifted the silver-haired person up; the dragons helped hold him as he tried to peel the leather coat off. There were more buckles and straps than he had noticed at first... it took him a bit more time to remove those before he could get the trenchcoat off.
As he allowed the leather to fall to the ground, he found himself staring at the half-unconscious man yet again. He couldn't really help it... he was so gorgeous, absolutely stunning. Now he could see more of his body -- the smooth flesh that was slowly tinting pink with returning warmth, the gentle dips defining his muscles, the hard curves of his neck and waist... all if it became suddenly and almost painfully clear to him now.
One of the dragons bit him again.
Ashton yelped, nearly dropping the man. He felt his cheeks flushing, and he set him down again, quickly scrambling away. He climbed to his feet, then swallowed. He moved closer again, then leaned down and picked the man up again. All thoughts of continued undressing and drying were eradicated from his mind.
He walked to the bed, then pulled the covers back and slipped the man into it. He sighed and shook his head as he tucked the covers around the silver-haired man, who finally seemed to relax into full unconsciousness.
He moved away, and turned. He stared at the door a few moments, then began to walk.
He wasn't looking forward to what was coming next.