Ashtaroth + Victor // War's Over

[vast_oceans]

Who: Ashtaroth and Victor
When: Thursday, 11/8
Where: The infirmary at Amber Eyes HQ
Before/After: After the war \o/
Warnings: Ridiculousness.


Bastan had been liberated. Everyone who fought was buzzing with their victory, quick to cheer and cry even if they knew it was far from over. Victor was satisfied. Happy, even, but there was something that left him feeling isolated in the celebrations. He knew what it was already: Bastan was not home. He was glad to have been a part of getting it back, and especially glad that it was back for Ravindra, but that the paladins had accepted Victor's journey of redemption didn't mean they accepted him. There was no need to put a dark mark on their triumph by worming his way among them. He didn't belong there, and perhaps he never would.

The thought didn't make him as lonely as it used to. Rhys had his own tasks as the Ahura, but Victor still informed him he would be leaving for a time. There was something he wanted to do first. Victor received the response text after he had warped into Safta, asking if Victor would let [him] know how she was doing. Victor eyed the spot where he was sure Rhys debated putting in one of those smiling text faces, then hastily shoved his phone away.

He would, though.

He entered the infirmary, free of his armor and dressed in his dark tunic and vest, but still keeping his sword at his side in case of any surprises. Victor asked the clerics at the front if Ashtaroth Selah was working then, and if there was time enough for her to see a visitor. If he sat down now, he might not get up again. Victor found a quiet spot to wait near a corner, occasionally glancing to see if either Ash or one of the other clerics was coming for him.


News of victory came swiftly. There was not as much time to celebrate as some wished- there were too many to tend to yet. Chaos continued to reign in the infirmary, but it had added a skip to the gait of those that worked in it.

Ashtaroth waited. No message came. She worked, thinking it just a matter of time, distracting herself as more and more poured in. She didn't even realize she'd begun to search the faces of each new patient as they streamed in. Still no message.

She tied off a tourniquet and watched the spellsword settle back to deal with the sudden, tight pain, a welcome distraction from the open gash that had been in her thigh. Ash smiled at her tightly, wishing she could feel more at ease herself.

No new messages.

A voice called out to her. She didn't hear it right away- a second calling caught her attention and she turned her head. Was she done? There was someone to see her.

The words had barely left the other cleric's mouth before she was up, stool scraping back on the floor. No running, but she hurried all the same, eyes glancing over each body she came across.

She stood still at the front, looking for a familiar face. Whose, she didn't know- whose, she hoped-


Victor looked up when he noticed a head of dark hair from his peripheral vision. His tired eyes lit to attention, confirming it indeed belonged to Ash, and he gave her a fatigued smile in greeting.

"Hey," he said, turning to face her fully. Ash had never been in the same danger he was, but there was a wave of relief in seeing her there. Counting the days, it hadn't been that long since they parted, but it felt like much longer. He was just glad to look at her, verifying she was there.


It looked a little like she'd had all the wind taken out of her at the sight of him, every sight, every sound coming to a full stop when she saw him turn to her. For a moment, she'd stopped breathing, but her breath in brought everything back into full motion, and she burst forward, a wordless cry escaping her as she reached out, as she threw herself at him with all of her weight. There was no room to be embarrassed, no room to consider how tired he might be. She held on to him tightly with her arms around his neck, her breath holding and coming out as a choked sob, all of her worry bleeding out of her.

She pulled back, her hands on his shoulders, looking at him, assessing him. With everything she had seen come through, from his silence, she had been imagining all kinds of terrible things.

Tears already in her eyes, she slapped him.

Then she hugged him again tightly, one hand on his shoulder, the other cradling the back of his head. "H-how d-dare you n-n-not call me!" she wailed, burying a whimper against his shoulder.


His expression tapered at the sight of the emotion in her face. He was about to ask-- he wasn't sure what-- when she threw herself at him. Exhausted as he was, he caught her and kept his ground, surprised only a moment before he returned it as tight.

The tears he hadn't expected. He still worried something had happened. Then, the last thing he expected, his cheek stung with pain.

Stunned, Victor was helpless to the second hug, tighter than the last. It took him a moment to regather himself, hesitating with his own arms. He wasn't yet used to phones and culture of communicating surrounding them. If it wasn't time enough to send a dragon mail, he usually didn't think about it.

"I-I came straight here," he stammered out. "It... it seemed redundant." Clearly not. Her worry and her tears said as much. He brought his arms back around her shoulders, and one hand stroked through her hair in what was meant to be a comfort as she took his shoulder.

"... I'm sorry. I'm all right."


She was caught between a laugh and a sob at his words, sniffing and burying her face against his neck. Ah, she didn't care, she didn't care that she'd just thrown a tantrum, she didn't care that she was clinging to him in front of what felt like a hundred people, she didn't care that it was him she was clinging to, or what he thought about that. "I was so worried... so many people were coming through, and I thought... I thought..."

She fell silent, letting him stroke her hair. Was she being foolish? She didn't feel she was. Her fears, she felt, were justified.

Again she pulled away, startled, just realizing what she'd done. "Oh- oh, I'm so- I'm so sorry," she said, reaching up to touch his face, sniffing again. "I didn't mean-" His cheek where she'd smacked him was burning under her fingers, and she didn't think twice to heal the damage, miniscule as it was, drawing the sting out with a weak healing spell. She searched his face again, concern warring with a dazed sort of joy at the sight of him.


Victor caught her hand as she finished healing him, the sting fading as he blinked back at her. "No, it's fine, I..." He started to laugh, finding something inherently absurd about being slapped and then healed by the one who'd done it so quickly. Maybe he was reaching the point of sleeplessness where little things were becoming too easily humorous. "I might have deserved it," he managed through his laughter.

Because her fears were justified. The thought that she had been terrified of it finally sobered him. He had been lost once before. Did that make it easier or harder for them, he wondered? But she had been the one most unable to accept it.

He questioned her then and still didn't fully understand. He realized, quite suddenly, that he didn't have to. It had been as genuine as her emotions right now. Victor smiled faintly and released her hand to use the edge of his sleeve to dab at her tears. If there was an audience to worry about, he didn't give them a second though. "I'll try to remember next time."


"You're an idiot," she said without vehemence, finding herself laughing as well, unsteadily but genuine. She blinked, trying to clear her vision. "A real idiot, you know?"

She sniffed again, shying away a little but ultimately standing still as he wiped her face dry. She looked down, realizing just then how close they were, her arm still wrapped around his neck. She didn't want to move away- embarrassment was settling in now, though, because of how close they were, because here she was, crying all over him again. It hadn't mattered how much she'd done while he was gone- it seemed the minute he was with her, she let herself fall apart.

"Next time," she said, dismal, letting her hands fall to his arms. No, she wouldn't pull away. She looked up at him again, forcing herself to smile a little bit again. "All right. And if you don't, I'll get Rhys involved."

Her expression turned concerned once more, holding on to him tightly. "...are you really all right?" she asked, soberly.


"What?!" he flinched back, more shocked at the assertion than offended, but trying to sound offended. It wasn't working. It was impossible not to feel the undercurrent of joy and relief. Whatever she said, and whatever mistakes he might have been making were swept up in it.

"Turning my own player against me!" It came out with a grin, and he missed his own implication that Rhys as a player was something affectionate. "You already have the Mazda!"

Victor let out a sigh to help calm himself. There was something overwhelming about the emotions at play. He smiled more softly. "I couldn't say it otherwise."


"Shh, shh. Don't fight me on this one," she said, laughing again. She smiled at the mention of the Mazda. "And I didn't ask for her help! She's just nosy."

She heard something- a giggle? She glanced aside, seeing two of the clerics with their heads together, whispering to one another as they watched. They weren't the only ones. A dark blush flooded her cheeks and her hands gripped his arms convulsively, suddenly flustered. She swallowed. "We should- we should get out of the way," she said, her eyes anywhere but on his face.

Letting go of one arm, she tugged him aside by holding on to the other, looking back at him after a moment. "Ah- I forgot. How could I-? But I did." She slowed, almost stopping as she walked him away. "...when did you get to sleep last? If you came right here..." Her brows drew in. "I have a cot- you should use it for a bit."


Fighting Ash was repeatedly something Victor wasn't very good at. He sighed with a smile again, accepting his defeat. More teasing play might have involved constructing playful falsehoods he didn't truly believe. One day he was going to find a way around that and... well. Still lose, probably.

Victor was too hazy to notice anything amiss until he was being dragged away. He followed easily, stumbling at first before reclaiming his balance as he glanced around the room for anyone he should be apologizing too without finding anyone. Ash worked here, so he would readily took her word for it and brushed the thought aside.

"A little early evening," he confessed. "At a healer's tent, it--" Victor hissed a sigh, realizing that wasn't something he should have said, but tried to continue without calling further attention to it. "--Helped tide me over." He looked back at her. "I don't want to take your bed from you."


Taking the hand of the arm she held with one hand, the other went around him to steady him, resting at the small of his back. She looked up at him sharply at the mention of the healer's tent, pressing her lips together to keep from interrupting him like she dearly wished to.

"I still have work to do," she said, forcing herself to move past it. Of course, he'd have to get hurt sometime. It didn't keep her expression from severity. "So it's all right if you lie down for a bit. I can wake you up when I'm done. What about food?"


Victor averted his eyes the more intense Ash's expression became. He was glad she hadn't asked, not wanting to explain he had been stabbed by Acher. Again. But he didn't die this time. It seemed more funny than terrifying right now, but he wasn't sure she would agree. He wouldn't either once he got some sleep.

His body found the support of her hand to tempting not to lean a little despite reminders to keep straight on his own. "I don't want to think about food," he said. Sometimes his honesty sounded childish no matter how he toned it. "That is, I'm too tired to think about it." Wait, that didn't sound much better.

Victor shook his head and looked back to her. "... A bit," he agreed. "As long as it doesn't trouble you."


"It troubles me more that you're still thinking of pushing yourself," she said, warring between concerned and wry. "Besides, it's just healer's work- all you'd be keeping yourself awake for is to watch people get themselves patched up."

She was aware of how he leaned into her, even that little bit, too aware. Her heart fluttered- it really fluttered. How embarrassing, she thought, to be describing herself like they did in the poems and songs.

Ah, but they really were right, when they called people fools.

"I'll bring something up for you to eat later, then," she mused, keeping an eye on the doors until she came to the one she recognized as hers, and the one she shared with three others.

Four cots, one of them with a lightly snoring cleric, one boot on and the other on the floor, head on the pillow and legs off the bed. Ash ushered him in to that room with a quiet direction to sit on the bed in the far corner by the window, and quietly set about taking the other boot off. The person roused somewhat, but stayed asleep as Ash helped her swing her feet up. She covered her up with the blanket and came back over to Victor, standing in front of him, her expression troubled for another reason altogether.

"How is Rhys?" she asked in a whisper, leaning over him a little as she pulled the blankets back, still in fussy mode.


"There's nothing I can say to stop you, is there?" he asked, smiling. Or there was nothing honest he could say to stop her. It all amounted to the same for him. Victor's dejected sense of pride was growing more used to it, and he relented to her guiding, watching as she helped the other cleric to bed. She was always taking care of people, for better or for worse.

Following that lead, he took off his own boots so as not to track mud (and blood) into where she slept. Once he sat, his bones seemed heavier and he sank into himself, resting his arms on his knees. His head dipped until he felt her presence looming. Alert again, he looked up at her and frowned.

"Battered," he said, matching her volume. "... The Mano died. I don't know how close they were, but he didn't take it well." No one else seemed to know, either. Just how Rhys was, he told himself. Nothing personal. "And the Spenta was injured. Aerveas may be dead, but the Undertow is still..." Victor shook his head, not wanting to finish. Bastan falling had been an upset, but it was the Undertow that had more personal weight. He never would have imagined it coming to that. "There's a lot of work ahead of them."

It was all the truth, but too grim. He thought a moment for something more uplifting. "But now it can start getting better."


"The Mano is dead?" She echoed, her expression shocked, double-taking at him as she finished smoothing out the blankets and straightened again. She hadn't heard anything about that. She could see Rhys being torn up about it, though she couldn't imagine him not taking someone's death hard.

The mention of the Spenta was troublesome, too, knowing they were close. She took a moment to think on the Spenta- he seemed very young, which was strange for her to say, given she was younger, but she couldn't shake that feeling. Something in his personality, as though he couldn't decide who he was, or was supposed to be. They all went through it, though maybe some more than others? She didn't know who he'd been- maybe it was a bigger transition than she could imagine.

"Yes," she said with a decisive tone. It could get better now. They could rebuild, they could work in greater peace on how to cure the Undertow.

Unthinking, she reached out and set her hand on his head, brushing his hair back. That was a lot to think about. She didn't feel silly with this sort of touch, having gotten so used to checking up on him that every touch seemed to carry that intention.

"We can go back tomorrow," she said, letting her hand settle on his shoulder. "They'll be fine without me. I want to go see Rhys." The last she'd seen him was before Giza- it felt like years ago now.

War inherently came with a lot of bad news. It was, in big picture terms, a short conflict, but one that was still going to change everything. He began to recall Acher's taunts.

After what they've done, do you really think they will run our world better?

Yeah. Yeah, he did. Maybe in part because of what they had done.

Victor closed his eyes with Ash's touch, allowing himself to relax. Any barrier to contact had crumbled with his resurrection out of necessity. It had become familiar, even normal, and he did not think to question it. With all the violence of the past weeks, something more gentle was welcome.

"We'll do that," he agreed. "And maybe find out what the arrangements will be."


"Yeah," she said, remembering their talk on the phone. Everything had seemed to come together to her when they'd come to their conclusion. Why stay in Bastan? What was there for them that they didn't have in abundance elsewhere?

Of course, it was probable that they'd be in Bastan for a little while longer. Hopefully only a little while longer. Really, she didn't care- wherever she could be where the others were. She'd never realized how much where didn't matter.

She watched him a minute, falling into a comfortable silence as her hand went back to his hair. The length was still fine- she tried to remember him with his hair dyed as Rayu and simply couldn't. Hesitating, she leaned in and kissed the top of his head lightly. "I missed you," she said, unable to keep it back. He'd missed her- he was here, wasn't he? She wasn't that dense. But she felt the need to let him know likewise.


Remaining in Bastan could prove a small problem, but Victor figured they would stay with the berserker camps. If it was still too much trouble for the paladins, they could work on other means then. He knew she wanted to be back with Rhys, but at least the two of them would be better than nothing.

Victor's eyes stayed closed and he became still in the silence. Only a small smile across his face suggested he hadn't fallen asleep sitting up. "We shouldn't have to worry about it now," he said. The was more to do. There was the fallout of war and the reconstruction to follow. The world was still changing. But at least those were problems that wouldn't have them in different countries.


She smiled, her hand falling to his back from his hair, giving him a light pat before letting it rest there. "Mmhm," was all she could think to say, unable to otherwise express how happy that idea made her. She was tired of traveling, tired of separation.

And admittedly, she felt giddy at the idea of showing Rhys that they meant to stick around.

But, there was still work to do, for her at least. She'd been gone long enough, and she was keeping him awake. "C'mon, get your feet up and sleep for a bit before you fall asleep as you are."


But he was so comfortable right here. Victor breathed in deep and recognized it was because he was getting too tired to want to move. Better to obey her than be difficult about it. His eyes blinked open halfway, hazy with sleepiness, and he gave a small nod. "All right."

He shifted, lying down, and let his eyes shut again. It wasn't at all like trying to rest back at camp. The tension and fear didn't exist here. Was that fair? Sometimes, Victor got tired of asking what was fair. He would take it for now. Somewhere in his drifting mind, he thought he should say something to Ash-- a good... it wasn't night, but that wasn't how one used 'good morning'...

Victor didn't sort through it before fatigue won over.


She watched him sort himself out, making sure he didn't curl up on the blankets, lifting them as he slid onto the bed and pulling them over him once he was settled. She watched him a moment, almost able to see the moment when he fell asleep- practically seconds after she'd smoothed the covers over his shoulder.

"Pest," she muttered to herself, finding it ridiculous that he would run himself ragged like this when all he'd had to do was send her another message. But she smiled at the thought all the same.

A beat. She gave a quick glance around, almost guilty, tugging at her hair lightly, tightly braided and looped to keep it out of the way. She leaned in nervously, hesitating, before she kissed his cheek, daring to, knowing how deeply he tended to sleep. That done, she straightened up and let her breath go in a small huff, then turned and left, rallying herself as she returned to the infirmary.