It's something of a spell. He doesn't do it on purpose, I don't think, but
he is just one of those people who after meeting him, a person will
immediately forget him or his purpose. He commands unobtrusiveness, even
though his entire being screams attention. I've seen his unnoticible way
of being before successfully carried out; that girl, Precis, ignored him
quite completely during the time they traveled together. There is just
something about his existence that makes people shift their eyes somewhere
else, as remarkable as he is with two dragons sticking out of his back. No
one will ever see him as the hero of a story, only as the absolute clown
that he doesn't try to be but always is. His disappearing acts themselves
are an example; people don't notice he's gone until the very end of the
adventure.
It lends him a sort of desperate air. He wants friends, but they never truly see him as what he is. And so he remains with them anyway, yearning for something heartfelt to share with some other person but never quite receiving the understanding that he craves. I am sure this is the longest time he's ever traveled with other people; it isn't as much the camaradie that he and the other three share; rather, he's trying to figure out just what he is lacking that leads them to believe that he's never serious. He tries to be, but his silly antics simply don't let them believe that. I prefer to think that it is simply bad luck.
He has a history behind him, I'm sure, one of neglect. He knows at his age that trying to get attention unnecessarily will get him nowhere but hated; so he tries to get attention by doing what's necessary, by trying the hardest in the worst times. And when he tries, he tries very hard, but of course no one notices him anyway, they only see each other. Companions he has, but not friends in the truest sense of the word. He is often left out of their more technical conversations because he tends to get excited or emotional easily, and ends up giving no advice at all; but I'm sure if they gave him a chance when he was calmed down, he could give very good insight. Certainly, his dubious line of work as a freelance monster-slayer has given him experience, even though his actions often show otherwise. It has always been easier for other people to see what is funny than to see what is cruel, or difficult.
And perhaps there is something about him now that has simply given up. It doesn't seem far off before he starts screaming or gets depressed. Now, constantly, there is a desperate look in his eyes, a starved look as he looks on at the people on the deck. Maybe Rena and the others really DO see him for what he is, a man with his own ideas and past instead of some clown out of nowhere, but certainly they would much rather consider him laughable than ever consider him serious. There is a coldness in him that is stronger than mine, taking ahold of him every moment that passes, from that part of him that has already given up on true friendship. Though Claude is frequently apart in his own loneliness, when I see Ashton I see a constant throbbing loneliness, weariness. He follows people around without truly knowing what it is that keeps him there. Parts of what seems to others to be a mask of friendliness and good-humored smiles are falling away, baring an anger that I had never seen the likes of before. He IS strong, he CAN fight, but people never see him, simply they see THROUGH him, forget about him completely. The frustration of years of being pushed aside are manifesting themselves into anger; I can only pray that some miracle will avert it until this task of defeating the Sorcery Globe is over. But I also think he has enough sense to stave it off until afterwards.
He screams for attention. And no one hears him. This is a punishment worse than death, or torture, to be able to walk through the crowds of people and never be seen, never be noticed. To taste the food and to meet people, only to be forgotten immediately. It would feel as if you never existed, or the briefest instant of happiness followed by the bitterest memories that turn reality to ashes. Something about him is so piteous that I can't help but feel sympathetic. I suppose if there is anyone who sees his situation, it is I, and as all rumors say, the sword is my only friend and I intend to keep it that way. And I could not hope to help him, because I am solitary as well, even though I like it. Or, perhaps my problem is that I can't feel other people around me anymore.
Strangely, the more people ignore him, the more my eyes are drawn to him and hurt composure. As loneliness becomes part of me, it becomes a burden for him, and I can only wonder how he has not stumbled somewhere along the way and fallen into madness. Ironically, I think that would give him more attention than he has ever received; but being insane is not something to be happy for. I wonder if I would be able to restrain him if he lost his anger beforehand. I wonder if I would have the heart to, when I myself have felt that terrible loneliness when all of my room shrinks to trap me.
But undeniably, the frustration of being unseen has become part of him. He has learned to live with being invisible. Sadness, hidden under that false smile, radiates from him as no one else but me can see. That in itself forges a connection between us both. The weariness of living, the solitary loneliness - something we share, something I did not expect to share with anyone but Claude, my rival. But, as no one else sees, there is much more to Ashton than as meets the eye.
\ \ \ \ \ \ Author's note:
A blurble I made in class. Haven't written anything for a while, and this is my first Star Ocean fic. Hope you enjoyed it.
Andrea Weiling.
It lends him a sort of desperate air. He wants friends, but they never truly see him as what he is. And so he remains with them anyway, yearning for something heartfelt to share with some other person but never quite receiving the understanding that he craves. I am sure this is the longest time he's ever traveled with other people; it isn't as much the camaradie that he and the other three share; rather, he's trying to figure out just what he is lacking that leads them to believe that he's never serious. He tries to be, but his silly antics simply don't let them believe that. I prefer to think that it is simply bad luck.
He has a history behind him, I'm sure, one of neglect. He knows at his age that trying to get attention unnecessarily will get him nowhere but hated; so he tries to get attention by doing what's necessary, by trying the hardest in the worst times. And when he tries, he tries very hard, but of course no one notices him anyway, they only see each other. Companions he has, but not friends in the truest sense of the word. He is often left out of their more technical conversations because he tends to get excited or emotional easily, and ends up giving no advice at all; but I'm sure if they gave him a chance when he was calmed down, he could give very good insight. Certainly, his dubious line of work as a freelance monster-slayer has given him experience, even though his actions often show otherwise. It has always been easier for other people to see what is funny than to see what is cruel, or difficult.
And perhaps there is something about him now that has simply given up. It doesn't seem far off before he starts screaming or gets depressed. Now, constantly, there is a desperate look in his eyes, a starved look as he looks on at the people on the deck. Maybe Rena and the others really DO see him for what he is, a man with his own ideas and past instead of some clown out of nowhere, but certainly they would much rather consider him laughable than ever consider him serious. There is a coldness in him that is stronger than mine, taking ahold of him every moment that passes, from that part of him that has already given up on true friendship. Though Claude is frequently apart in his own loneliness, when I see Ashton I see a constant throbbing loneliness, weariness. He follows people around without truly knowing what it is that keeps him there. Parts of what seems to others to be a mask of friendliness and good-humored smiles are falling away, baring an anger that I had never seen the likes of before. He IS strong, he CAN fight, but people never see him, simply they see THROUGH him, forget about him completely. The frustration of years of being pushed aside are manifesting themselves into anger; I can only pray that some miracle will avert it until this task of defeating the Sorcery Globe is over. But I also think he has enough sense to stave it off until afterwards.
He screams for attention. And no one hears him. This is a punishment worse than death, or torture, to be able to walk through the crowds of people and never be seen, never be noticed. To taste the food and to meet people, only to be forgotten immediately. It would feel as if you never existed, or the briefest instant of happiness followed by the bitterest memories that turn reality to ashes. Something about him is so piteous that I can't help but feel sympathetic. I suppose if there is anyone who sees his situation, it is I, and as all rumors say, the sword is my only friend and I intend to keep it that way. And I could not hope to help him, because I am solitary as well, even though I like it. Or, perhaps my problem is that I can't feel other people around me anymore.
Strangely, the more people ignore him, the more my eyes are drawn to him and hurt composure. As loneliness becomes part of me, it becomes a burden for him, and I can only wonder how he has not stumbled somewhere along the way and fallen into madness. Ironically, I think that would give him more attention than he has ever received; but being insane is not something to be happy for. I wonder if I would be able to restrain him if he lost his anger beforehand. I wonder if I would have the heart to, when I myself have felt that terrible loneliness when all of my room shrinks to trap me.
But undeniably, the frustration of being unseen has become part of him. He has learned to live with being invisible. Sadness, hidden under that false smile, radiates from him as no one else but me can see. That in itself forges a connection between us both. The weariness of living, the solitary loneliness - something we share, something I did not expect to share with anyone but Claude, my rival. But, as no one else sees, there is much more to Ashton than as meets the eye.
\ \ \ \ \ \ Author's note:
A blurble I made in class. Haven't written anything for a while, and this is my first Star Ocean fic. Hope you enjoyed it.
Andrea Weiling.