Bloody Abyss

A/N: Sorry about the miss spell of the ship, can someone give me the right spelling? I haven't had time to play due to work. A short update.

Chapter 2

Ginji and Asch

"I can just imagine your dinner at the Fabre mansion." Ginji teased while Asch absently reached behind him. A flip of a switch later and the doors of the black Albiore slid shut behind him. With an ill contented hiss they closed off the dismal view of the violet mist shrouded spires of Batical being pelted with rain. Still chatting happily, the "borrowed" pilot, of the "borrowed" air ship blissfully followed his "captor" deeper into the heart of Sheridan's pride and joy. Deepening his voice, Ginji tried to mimic Duke Fon Fabre's voice and mimed scolding Asch. "Stop using hyper resonance at the table, stop giving your brother migrains, you cut the rappig steak with the knife, not your sword..."

Asch simply began to wring out his cascot and ignored Ginji's one sided chatter. Miasma tainted water splattered against the black floor of the second -or was it the third?- Albiore of Sheridan, but knowing the industrious people of Sheridan they weren't pinning over the loss. They were probably making something even bigger, capable of flight, hovering… and swimming. Asch shuddered, bad enough they had to fly from place to place, but the idea of a submersible vessel made his blood run cold.

"Are you cold? Your shaking, you know." Ginji informed him with what was probably a wide smile. "Of course you're cold, stupid me, it's raining outside for Yulia's sake! I'll get you your spare coa-"

Asch smirked, knowing well the boy wouldn't see it. Considering the winds had tossed his hair into his face, and considering how thick and long his hair was the odds of Ginji seeing anything of Asch's face but a red haired mass were all but non-existent. Once in control of his visage, Asch parted the screen of red with a gloved hand.

"You aren't going anywhere."

Ginji froze, almost out of the room. Asch glared at Ginji, uncaring and so unnoticing the somewhat messy state of that which he had dubbed the head of the Albiore. Ginji regularly corrected him on that score, calling the glass domed room a cockpit. Regardless of it's name though, after one passed the row of seats (Ginji still called them observation posts, but it had four legs –albeit they were bolted to the floor- and a place to sit, a chair was a chair after all) you went into the body of the Albiore and could easily find the private quarters for those living within . Ginji had, after overcoming his terror of the grim bloody haired swordsman, asked what the rules were. After some thought Asch had made up a few that seemed appropriate and had let the matter drop.

After terror had passed, and a grudging friendship had been sown between the two wildly different young men, Ginji had learned that he could break whatever rules he wanted. So long as his breaking of the rules didn't wake Asch or leave any problems that Asch would have to tend to later. Save one rule, the most important rule that would send Asch into a wild frenzy if he even thought it was broke.

"What's yours is yours, what's mine is mine. You don't pry and I don't break your bones in response to your prying, understand?"

Ginji had understood, and he'd nodded so wildly that it had been a wonder his head hadn't flown off. Intimidated by the spark of real anger in the rouge god-general's eyes, Ginji had followed that rule when he'd scorned all others.

But comfortable with the knowledge that he was one of the few friends Asch allowed himself to have, the pilot decided to test the red haired man's patience and dared to tease.

One foot hung comically in the air, as if his words had stopped the boy mid-step, Ginji turned to face him, eyes far too wide and innocent. Asch snorted, he had been half expecting the attempt for over a month. Prying, curious, those born of Sheridan picked apart everything, conversations, ideas, devices… The wonder of a god-general's private quarters, and being denied to see such wonders must have been driving Ginji wild…

"Since you don't have anything to do get the mop." Looking behind him, Asch grimaced at the purple tinted trail. "I tracked some water in."

"C... Clean it up yourself!" The young man flared, sounding much younger than his fifteen years.

Asch didn't say a thing. He silently glared, and let the irritated glimmer to his green eyes do all the talking. Shaking, Ginji lifted his hands in surrender, and moved to go deeper into the Albiore. At the door, the boy paused.

"Dinner… wasn't that bad, at the Fabre mansion, was it? I mean, there wasn't a big explosion like when you do your hyper-resonance, and there wasn't a mob coming down here after your blood..."

Lips twisting into a bitter silent snarl Asch shook his head.

"And I'm guessing from your bad mood you didn't kill your replica…"

Flushing, as crimson as his hair, Asch silently glared at Ginji. Tactless, as most youths were, the boy was oblivious to his peril and plowed ahead with his budding theory.

"Oh, did Natalia dump you? That would make sen-"

"There wasn't a dinner! I didn't stay!" Asch roared.

"But... I thought you were visiting your fami-"

"I was checking matters with the replica!" Asch snarled, then taking a deep breath the red mist around his mind cleared. He could see the boy's wide and frightened eyes, and seeing such naked terror the fallen God General got a grip on his temper. He let the worst of it out when he exhaled his deep breath, and with shaking hands unwound the cascot that had nearly been his death on the walk back. He'd stormed out of house Fabre, temples pounding in time with his anger hightened pulse, shoved past the groveling Ramas... And a storm had hit, water had made his clothes and hair heavy, wind making both into afixiation hazards. Still he managed to make it to the winds ravaging the docks, and all he wanted was a chance to dry off and think...

He'd wrung it dry as best as his shaking hands would allow and tossed the black and red fabric onto the nearest chair. Next came the split tailed coat he favored and had cast in the proper priest warrior hues of somber red and black... Runes within runes, thier Scorian symbolism as well as thier crisp cut lines had been lost when they'd been first stained with blood. He let that fall behind him, sheading it and absently kicking it away. With shaking hands he pealed off his gloves, threw them blindly behind him...

When he finally was in control of himself he looked up to see that Ginji was gone. The boy had probably run, was hiding somewhere in some small dank room hoping Asch wouldn't find him...

Alone, Asch cursed, though if it was at himself or at Ginji, or something else, he wasn't sure.