It's quite short, but I didn't have anything else to go with it.
Aspen feels bad he snapped at Caspian.
Again.
But he doesn't, at the same time, and convinces himself it's just his job. It takes a bit of running over the scenario to lessen the guilt, and he hates it when it soon turns into annoyance. How dare Cas call him better at dealing with things to validate his own imprudence. As if they aren't all dealing with their things that they have to suck up. Get over themselves. Push through it and shut up. Stay quiet and good and disciplined and-
His thoughts end abruptly and he realizes that he's cut his palm on the dagger he's sharpening. It's enough to steady him. Maybe not enough to make him feel less bad about the selfish ponderings he tries to break away from, but it grounds him nonetheless. Leaning over, he dangles his hand in a stream to wash it, and the blood is swept downstream. It doesn't continue to bleed much when he withdraws it from the cold water, but he puts his glove over it anyway as if it will lessen the sting that now distracts him. Cover it up and keep going. Yeah - he guesses he's good at that.
It's the small things that keep him there. Present.
Sometimes he thinks he might run away with Nyx and stay under his wing. Waiting for him is a bed, and food, and drink, and company. It is not the best company, but he's not always choosy. Maybe he was being overdramatic when he left in the first place, afraid of disappointing him and maybe even more afraid of what he might be asked to do next. Nyx had been kind to him. He had kissed his hair and given him clothes and affection and weapons. A bad streak stains his record, but he cannot deny that he had received more than what he had asked for. And while he knows he did not deserve all of the bad things that befell him, he understands that he was not all too deserving of the good things that were given to him as well.
He's not sure it's what he wants, but the idea of living alone scares him. It also scares him to think he might be alone against the world, never again to face the Hunt in fear of persecution. They'd kill him on sight, surely, if they were positive that he had run away. He knows too much. There's no legal way out of the Hunt, especially being a supervisor. Some, they would let go. Him? He knows it's impossible. Even so, he thinks he's too cowardly to carry out running away.
If he brings the idea up the Caspian again, he knows he'll be met with justifiable anger. He'll be asked if he has any regard for how it would make Cas feel, and if life is so bad at the Hunt to risk his life to leave. It isn't that life is terrible in the Faerie. It's just not for him, and it's suffocating, and sometimes he thinks it might be unbearable.
He isn't sure why, but he can't help but feel this immense rush of pressure in his chest, this unbearable wave of emotion sweeping over his expression, and he puts his face in his hands and cries. He's good at doing it silently, unmoving, his eyes only lightly shut instead of squeezed tightly. To someone else, he might have just been resting, tired from so many tasks. His gloves are growing damp. A drop rolls unchecked between his fingers and down his chin, and then he draws his hands from his face to wipe his eyes. Swearing under his breath makes him feel a little better, but not much. He'll take what he can get, though.
The horse he took to the edge of the territory stamps impatiently into the ground beside him. He's never liked them much, but at least they're loyal enough to stay. Either that, or they're foolish. It would have been too long a walk to get away from base without some other form of transport, anyway.
Drying his face, he fixes himself and sheaths the dagger at his hip. He tousles his hair and rises to his feet. If he moves on quickly enough, maybe the thoughts will be stranded behind. They'll be too slow to catch up.
Maybe if he thinks about Kellan's problems and his softness, he'll feel better about himself.
But he doesn't. Not really, because it reminds him of how nice, and innocent, and moral he is, even if Kellan thinks otherwise. It isn't like Aspen yearns to be nice, innocent, or moral, but he thinks those things might go hand in hand with having less things to be guilty about. Or maybe it goes hand in hand with being soft.
See, it's the small things that add up and burrow in his brain. Termites of his good conscious.
He mounts his horse and pats it firmly to get it moving, wanting to drop it off at the stables before attempting to find Kellan. Questioning him will give him something to do, and someone else to focus on. Evading is his specialty, and if he can take his mind off himself for a while, it is enough.