Ashtaroth + Victor // Separate Ways

[vast_oceans]

Who: Victor and Ashtaroth
When: Monday, 25/7
Where: A hotel room in Mianew York
Before/After: Directly after Ezra emails Victor.
Warnings: n/a



Victor looked at his phone a while longer and scrolled through his conversation with the Spenta. The information needed to be memorized and deleted as soon as possible. He would need to show it to Ash first.

If she was coming with him.

This must have been what the Spenta meant by her being of potential use, but the Spenta had only permitted it, not ordered it. Victor took a deep breath and let it out with a heaved sigh. After the battle for the hunters, and after Giza, he didn't feel comfortable dragging Ash into a war. Capable? Absolutely. Determined? Surely. But that didn't make her built for it. It didn't make it good for her.

This was what he needed to do, and though they were tied, it was not so much that she should follow him into battle.

He kept staring at the phone, thoughts elsewhere, until he heard her come back. Victor sat up and watched her, frowning.

"I need to speak with you."


Hair pulled back and braided, seeming to settle into her new clothes and a new pair of shoes easily enough, she came up beside him, her brows drawn in as she examined his face. "...all right," she said, cautious, casting a brief glance to his phone, but unable to see what it said.

Hesitating, she sat down by him, eyes not leaving his face, her stomach sinking at the frown there. What was it he could have to say?


He turned the phone screen off and set it aside, but kept his hand on it as if some assassin might sneak it away the moment Victor left it alone. It wasn't impossible.

Victor had permission to tell her if she was joining him. He trusted her to keep the information safe even if she didn't. But knowing was, itself, a burden. Victor ran his fingers through his hair, silent several moments as he tried to find his words.

"I have new orders," he said finally. "And it would be safer for you if you retreated into Safta. Away from the borders. There's some time before I have to go. We should be able to get some supplies together..."


"If I...?"

She'd caught that right away, and the words escaped her before she could pull them back in. She pressed her lips together, looking at him with increasing anxiety.

"But if I do that- where will you be going? Why?"

She held a hand up quickly, a thing she'd begun doing to keep him from answering her right away, recognizing she tended to ask some inappropriate questions for someone who couldn't lie.

She thought a moment, her hand slowly falling, her expression more troubled. "...is it... are they moving out?"

War?


He watched her go through the motions. It was a consideration he appreciated. Victor could always bluntly refuse to speak, something that felt easier to do as long as he would explain why. With Ash, it was more difficult. There was a sense of owing. In this case, the truth was hidden only to spare her. She could get it, if she wanted it. He wasn't sure she did.

Victor took a slow breath and managed to meet her eyes. "Yes. If you follow me, there will be more battle. It will be as bad as the first time. Maybe worse."


She met his eyes, but only for a moment, the troubled expression unfading as she looked away. The hand that had been raised went to her face, fingers covering her lips.

"But you... are you ready for that?"

Of course he was. She wasn't, though. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to do that again, becoming more familiar with her limitations in her own body. But the idea of him going on ahead without her, and into a situation where he might not come back again-

It wasn't something she had control over, though. He wasn't something she had control over. But she could feel herself panicking all the same.

"But- they'll be needing all the clerics they can get, surely-"


"Ash," he interrupted, quiet. "You were never trained for this sort of work. Yes, clerics are useful. You're useful." Victor cracked a pained smile. "But that doesn't mean you belong in battle. There are infirmaries in Safta that need as much help."


She was easily silenced, but just as easily riled, taking too deep a breath and having to steady herself before she spoke. "But you're out there- Rhys, too- Virelai, I can't- I can't just leave you, out there."

It was a lie, she knew. She wasn't the only cleric in the world. She twisted her skirts in her fingers mercilessly, hating the knowledge and that she was rebelling against it. They would be safe- safer- in the hands of others.

She clamped her jaw shut, blinking fiercely, unwilling to admit to tears. Useful. Not to Victor. She nodded, staring at a point between them.


"And if anything happened to you, I'd have to explain it to them," Victor said, voice still soft. but with an edge of humor that couldn't quite carry through to the end.

His expression again as he watched her. This hadn't be unexpected, but that didn't make it easier. Ash was a cleric who had been stubborn enough to pull him out of the Dark. He had seen how she pushed herself the first time, and it was a mercy she hadn't burnt herself out of mana then. This time, it seemed almost guaranteed. And that said nothing of what more she would have to see.

"I don't want you hurt, Ash."


"I don't want you to go."

There was no reasoning behind it. Spoken out loud, at least- there was plenty of it in her head, all of it selfish. But he was well now, recovered from soul sickness. He had been trained to do this. If both were to go, he would, of course, have the higher chance of survival. And it wasn't as though he was a terrible paladin- her fears, while justified, were still unfair to him.

He did not need her protection. It was all she could give.

She didn't want him to go, but she would not stop him. It wasn't a plea for him to stay with her, simply a statement of fact, the single utterance of her selfishness. It was unfair to say anything more. It would only be manipulation.

"...when will you leave?"


That made him stop. Victor stared back at her. He had to go. He was a paladin now-- again. Finally. He had so much to make up for. He had been given the chance-- the trust-- to do just that. There was nothing that could stop him from it, and she understood that. Even his own resurrection... it was laced in duty, in responsibility. In everything that easy to swallow and think about.

It was with delay that he heard her speak again, and another blink as his echoic memory caught him up on what he almost missed.

"Before the week is over," he said. "I... don't know when I'll return."

When. Not if.


She nodded gently, her fingers relaxing into her lap. She had to accept- she didn't want to- she would- that he would leave. It was his duty. And he was right- hers was in an infirmary. The bustle and business was her element, the chaos of the sickroom, of triage tents. Not the battlefield. What she wanted did not align with reality.

Ah, but it was heartbreaking to come to terms with. Did he even see her as a friend? Was she only an obligation (though a dear one- or even that?) in his head?

So there was nothing for her to protest.

"I'll wait," she said softly, forcing the earnest answer through the numbness she felt. "I'll be waiting."


He found her acceptance more unsettling than he prepared himself for. There was nothing to reassure, and nothing to argue with. There was no illusion of coming to an agreement and no relief that came with winning it. There was only the uncomfortable silence of knowing their choices were few. This choice was his. He owed it to the paladins. Victor was eager to show the Spenta he had meant all that he had said. But he owed Ash, too, in ways he could not concretely place.

"Hey, come on," he said, trying to smile again. "I'll come back. And maybe you'll have a Bastan to go home to when all's said and done."


She looked up as he began to speak, seeing the awkward smile there, an attempt to... to what? Cheer her up? There was nothing to be cheerful about. But he was trying, funnily enough, to make her feel better. Well, it would probably be easier to deal with, if she could be cheerful and encouraging, gracious and accepting. She couldn't take it back now that she wasn't any of those things. Even as she tried to smile, tears escaped at a rapid pace, dripping off of her jaw and splashing onto the back of her hands in her lap.

She reached up to push them away, swiping at her face with the heel of her palm. "Yes, of course. Of course I will. And you will, too." Her voice shook, and she inhaled convulsively. "Y-you too."

It just wouldn't be home without him.


"I hope so."

Everything since his death had been heavy. Maybe before that. Players. Bastan's siege. His own treachery. As Rayu, he escaped it with sarcasm and bad jokes. The Victor before that played off his own family's death with laughter when it came up in conversation. All of them were lies in their own ways. Misleading, if not outright dishonest. Delusions. Was it lying to smile? He just had, but seeing her tears, it faltered.

There was no longer an I'm fine to give concerned companions. Victor couldn't reach inside and find I'm not worried anymore. He'd lost everything's going to be all right in the times he needed it the most: when he wasn't sure he believed it, and when he didn't know the 'everything' she feared for.

But trying wasn't a lie. Ash was trying, too. Victor stood up and tugged his sleeve down, pressing it to her cheek to soak up the tears without wiping, trying not to irritate her skin. "When this is over, let's visit Bydell. It's quiet. And we won't have to do so much running."


Her heart leaped into her throat when he brought his hand up to her face. She blinked several times, watching his smile fall away and his expression turn more serious. He couldn't lie. So why did she feel so terrible showing the truth to him?

Because it wasn't the whole truth. Only partial. I love you. She couldn't say that out loud. How shallow it would seem, coming from her, how absolutely twisted.

But he wanted to go to Bydell with her. After the war. She nodded, smiling again a little, less forced. "Okay." Her voice is strained and quiet, but it's what she wants to say. She squeezes her eyes shut. A few days, at best, and then he would be gone. The thought brought on a genuine sadness, threatening to slide into her usual misery. She breathed in and opened her eyes with another nod.

"Okay. But we need to get you sorted out first." Her voice was stronger this time, her shoulders straightening with no little effort on her part. "Tell me what I can do to help."


It was important, he thought, to have something planned for afterward. It was something to look forward to, and something to do once it was over. A lot would happen. It would be enough to leave one or both of them dazed, but at least there would be one small step to take.

Oblivious, he smiled again and nodded. "Okay."

Ah, of course she would get some strength back thinking about work. He wondered if she would know what to do in Bydell if it was intended as some sort of break, but he wasn't going to dare let that thought slip. Joking wasn't a habit he had picked up again. The only humor he had was pointing out what he observed, and that might have been more irritating than funny.

Victor took up his phone and deleted what the Spenta had sent him. There was no need to keep it now. "I'll have to see it my equipment's working properly. No broken straps, sharpened sword..." He glanced away, nervous. "I want... to look like a paladin," he said. "Not the armor style. The bones are fine. But. Clean. Prepared." His hand played nervously at the hair against his neck, wondering if it was getting unkempt in their travels.


Work was what she knew. Work was what got things done. The time they had spent in Giza had been terrible for both of them in the sense that there was nothing to do, nothing to occupy themselves with. Some might call it admirable, but what did it say about two people who couldn't simply relax in silence?

She reached up to her face and rubbed at her eyes, sniffing and tilting her chin up. She looked at him again, catching the glance away, the concern there, and she briefly squeezed her fists tightly before relaxing her hands. She'd been right. She knew she'd been right to do this. No matter what had come of it, she didn't regret bringing him back. For him to be able to look at himself, to see himself as a paladin again, to see his own worth as a person- she knew she could be happy with that.

"Well, we can look for a smith in Mianeh when we get there. They'll be able to help with any fixing up you can't do on your own. As for cleaning up, I can do that." She looked at him, his hand in his hair. He looked fine otherwise.

She nodded again, more to herself. "Mm, we'll get it all sorted out. We ought to get you some more supplies, too. What are we short on? I can probably give you most of my potions. I won't need them."


Victor brushed at the ends of his hair a little more. "Thanks," he said, glancing away with a small fluster. "I could only trim it myself when it was longer. And when I was a hunter..." It was a hack job. "Well. I don't know how to deal with it." Did he even have the time to be worrying about this? But that he was trying to look more like a paladin, more like he wanted to feel-- already felt-- was a change happening so quietly that Victor himself didn't notice.

He moved to his satchel and began sorting through the supplies. A couple emergency health potions, but unused. With Ash, mana was more important than health. "Are you sure you won't need them? One or two isn't bad to have around, just in case..." Victor sorted through them, organizing health one on and mana on the other. Only a couple mana left, but..

"We had a vitality potion left over," he said, sighing heavily. That would have been useful to remember several days ago. "Sorry."


"It's okay," she said, smiling now. It hurt, but it came easily all the same. "It was probably better to let things heal up naturally anyway. I'm sorry I made such a nuisance of myself to you and Siegmund."

She didn't look at him as she said it, going into her own pouches and beginning to pull out their contents. Health potions that would serve him better, an antidote- but the last of the vitality potions she'd gotten from Artemis laid in his hands already. She knew already she didn't have to pull out anything else- she'd spent most of her time in Giza sorting and resorting her inventory.

She took out her knife instead, the blade sharp and clean. "Here, let me. I'll trim your hair now. Turn around."

Shifting so that she could sit on her knees, Ashtaroth waited for him to get into position. She could ignore everything with a task to accomplish. "...take the mana potions, too. You'll use yours a lot more than you probably think you will out there. Better safe than sorry."


"You weren't a nuisance," he said, looking back at her only to find her looking away. He did not mind caring for her so much as his clumsiness in doing so. There was much he could have remembered to do, but maybe the heat and exhaustion had gotten to him as well.

It was too late thinking about it either way. It was grim to consider, but the potion might be more useful for the war. What he considered were probably not ideas Ash would have liked.

He settled next to her, trusting her with that blade without thinking about it. Victor shifted in place, remembering to sit up straight and trying to obediently keep looking ahead. Keeping still in formation had been one of the harder skills to learn. If one could call it that.

"You may be right," he admitted, just barely glancing down to his hand before remembering himself and going still again. He held his hand up to his vision instead, indulging in a small glow in his palm. "But after being a hunter, it seems impossible to ever become that drained."

Not a nuisance. Her expression faltered, but he was turned from her, so she let it and took her time resettling it. She waited for him to settle, reaching up after a moment to stroke his hair back. She kept herself from clearing her throat before she put her hand to the back of his head, tilting it forward a little.

"There's so much I can't do now," she began to say as she carefully put the blade to the nape of his neck and began to trim, trying not to make it too short. "I never realized how bad it was... it wouldn't have been anything at all if Theresa were still in control of me." She mused aloud, hands steady. She'd never have imagined his hair was so blonde.

She watched him play with his mana. She couldn't imagine being another class. "It goes faster than you think it will. Keep the potions." Hm... not too sure, not all the way... just enough to get rid of the ragged edges and clean it up. She tilted his head to the side a little. "...you aren't supposed to tell me where you're going, are you?"


Victor let himself relax. A little too much, maybe. He closed his eyes and obediently moved with her guidance. He felt his head start to dip before he caught himself and blinked his eyes open to force himself more aware.

"She was driven toward something," he murmured, thinking aloud. "...Maybe she didn't think it would be fair if you were exhausted over goals that were hers?" Players. He didn't understand, though he tried. All he had learned was that they weren't malicious.

Victor went silent. Truth was trickier than he expected. "Implying the task at all was more than I should have said, but I think the Spenta would understand we couldn't discuss plans without that." He frowned. "It's not that I don't trust you, but knowing could trouble you."


"Siegmund was angry with me though, wasn't he." Not a question, a statement of fact. She'd heard him through the bathroom door. "But I didn't know... I don't think it was something I could have known. I don't think I'm sick anymore..."

Not physically, at least. The soul sickness had faded from her much sooner, but there were still scars. The idea of Siegmund didn't settle well with her. She hesitated, considered telling Victor what he'd done, but she swallowed and continued to carefully trim his hair.

Driven toward something... resurrection. Strange how the very thing she'd been used for by her player had backfired so tremendously without her. "...I was supposed to bring someone else back." she said softly. She hadn't told him before. "But she never existed... so there was no one to bring back in the end." That was how she'd ended up with most of those items. With them, she'd been able to perform resurrection. She'd just been holding on until that time had come...

She hummed at the explanation. "... I understand." Having that sort of information wouldn't do her any favours. What would she do with it? What could others do with it? Better she didn't know. "I'll find out when it's over."


Victor turned, slowly in warning to avoid getting nicked by the knife. He looked back at her, eye to eye. His expressions had all been softer since his resurrection. The harsh looks had been lies of their own. "I'm sorry," he said. It was everything. That her body was weaker than she expected. That she had come by resurrection in such a way. That she wasn't coming. That he shouldn't say.

He looked away again. "I'm sorry," he repeated, "But I'm... glad, too. That you're 'awake' now. That you knew how to bring me back."


Her hands stilled, moved away as he turned his head, blinking in confusion as he looked at her. She dropped the knife into her lap, carefully drawing her thumb over the blade. Her hand jumped before she could nick herself.

An apology. It felt like someone had squeezed her chest, but she didn't look away. She didn't say anything, staring at him instead, perhaps dumbfounded by it. She hadn't said it in order to get the apology. IT was the last thing she expected.

He looked away. She could breathe again. She considered what he had said, as seriously as she could. That he was grateful for what she had done...

Yes, it was worth it. It was all worth it. "Thank you," she whispered, unable to do anything more. She brought her hands back up, hesitating to touch his hair again, before she carefully went back to her task of trimming his hair.