Chapter Text
The thing that Imogen well and truly hated the most about her power was her inability to control it.
People didn’t stop thinking. They just didn’t. Even if they had no words rolling around in their heads, it was images and feelings and everything felt so loud, sometimes, that Imogen couldn’t stand it. It made her feel like she was going out of her mind, sometimes. Like she couldn’t tell which thoughts and feelings were her own, anymore.
But the worst part, especially now that she and Laudna had a real group, was it felt like such an invasion of privacy.
Most of the time, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Imogen was often surrounded by so many people she didn’t know that the occasional clear thought about something personal didn’t matter because she couldn’t even pinpoint who it had come from. And Laudna knew, of course. They had both made peace with the fact that Imogen would know everything in Laudna’s head and had decided there’d be no secrets between them, at all. Imogen told her everything, more or less. Everything but the growing feelings she had for Laudna, the ones that had been sitting heavy in her heart for so long and that Imogen was frankly terrified of admitting to. And Laudna felt no bitterness over Imogen having access to her thoughts. But this new group, these new friends of theirs? Imogen felt like a monster, having such clear access to their heads and not being able to block it out. Not knowing how to no matter how hard she tried.
She heard every spike of panic when someone mentioned anything that reminded Dorian too much of the home he had run away from, heard every single ‘Dariax should see this’ and every second guess about his own actions. She heard every time he hated himself, then aggressively reminded himself that if he were that bad then his friends wouldn’t still be here.
She knew every dream Fearne had of the family and the home she had left behind in the Feywilds, every surge of anger she clamped down on whenever a friend was in danger. She heard every time Fearne wondered if her grandmother was okay, if she should have gone back home to take care of her.
She heard the guilt that permeated everything Fresh Cut Grass did. How every time they helped their friends or a stranger, they would apologize to their old friends for not being able to help them. The drive in them to find what took those friends, a shocking but bright ember of rage that was impossible to see in them unless you had access to their mind like Imogen tried so hard not to.
And she felt more than she heard the bone deep ache that followed Orym. The dreams of warm, loving eyes and wedding vows whispered into his ear. The way his heart ached for a man who’d never come home, the mantra he so often repeated over and over. To just keep living, for him you need to keep going.
But Ashton’s thoughts? They were bright and loud, just like everything else about them. But more than that, they were new. Everyone else, these thoughts and feelings were old. Soaked into their very being, set to the backburner of their mind because they had been living with it for so, so long. And Ashton had thoughts like that, too, a worry about getting too close to anyone or a vague anger tinged with disgust whenever they saw that slag metal that hold them together. But his loudest thoughts hadn’t had the time to fade into the background. They’d begun quickly. Sharp and intense every time Orym did practically anything.
And Imogen understood that, of course. Orym was undeniably handsome. Small in stature, but with sharp features and tight muscles. Almost too skilled with his blade, a softness to the way he spoke that made it easy to like him but that also made the sassy little comments he sometimes made hit even harder. And at first, those thoughts that burst into Imogen’s head from Ashton had been neutral at worst. Shock and admiration at Orym’s skill, a million variations of ‘why is he hot?’ often with more swear words than strictly necessary.
But the longer they traveled together, the more emotional those reactions got and the more angry Ashton was about it. All but screaming at themselves every time their heart skipped or their breath went short because Orym touched them or smiled at them. And for as bad as Imogen felt for being privy to these private thoughts and feelings, it was exhausting. So frustrating to have to hear Ashton be angry about their crush but worse, it made her ache whenever those thoughts and feelings twisted and contorted. When instead of anger, it was fear gripping tightly at all of their thoughts.
Normally, it was a lot easier to ignore everyone’s thoughts and emotions during a fight. She was focused on trying to survive, most of the time. Examining what was happening, trying to keep herself and Laudna out of danger. The noise didn’t disappear, really, so much as it just faded into a dull buzz in the back of her own mind.
But thoughts still pushed through, if they were loud enough. Intense enough. And when Ashton got hit solidly in the chest while trying to keep Fresh Cut Grass out of the line of danger, so hard they slammed back into a tree before crashing to the ground, the force of everyone crying out their name in unison was so intense that Imogen almost thought they’d all screamed out loud. She swayed on her feet, and Dorian immediately reached to brace her as Orym leapt up and sliced straight through the troll they were fighting. As it hit the ground, Fearne ignited it to make sure it stayed down and the rest of them rushed over to Ashton.
Ultimately, Ashton was fine. More dazed than actually hurt. Trying to blink back into focus by the time the group was surrounding him. Ashton’s thoughts were hazy and unfocused, making Imogen feel like she was just waking up. That odd almost aware state where nothing quite made sense. And it was only made more confusing by the rush of concern from everyone else.
But, Orym dropped down beside them and grabbed at Ashton’s face with both hands, forcing them back into focus by putting himself directly in his line of sight. A focal point to center on. And those dazed and confused half thoughts blanked out into pure white noise as Ashton stared up at Orym.
“Hey, you still with us?” Orym asked, firm but not unkind. Ashton managed a little nod.
“Yeah.” They choked out, voice rough and raw. Orym smiled, then patted at Ashton’s cheek almost teasingly and Imogen did her best to not feel how Ashton whined in their own head.
“Good. Fearne…?” Orym looked up as he said her name, questioningly, but his hands stayed on Ashton’s face. Fearne hummed looking towards the smoldering lump they’d left behind.
“Well he’s on fire.” She said. She smiled brightly when she turned to face Orym once more. “So I think he’s dead.”
"I don’t know if ‘think’ is good enough.” He mused, though there was an amused quirk to his brow and an even more amused quirk to his lips.
Orym hummed a little laugh when Dorian agreed with him, and he pushed up to his feet. As he moved, Imogen was shocked by the clarity in her head, how vivid and clear Ashton’s thoughts were when she heard it burst through her mind.
Don’t leave .
Orym led Dorian and Fearne over to what was left of the troll. Laudna followed along, curiously peeking over the creature, and Fresh Cut Grass joined them when Ashton waved them ahead. Ashton grabbed at their hammer, groaning under their breath as they used it to drag themselves up to their feet. Imogen reached forward to help them, one hand on their waist and the other bracing their elbow.
“Do you…” She paused, chewing her bottom lip. “Do you need to talk about it?”
Ashton paused, taking a moment to process what was asked and what it actually was in reference to. Then, they tensed, knuckles nearly going white where they were holding onto the hammer. Immediately, Imogen regretted saying anything. She knew it was a bad idea, she always did. Most of the time, she was good at keeping her mouth shut about the thoughts she picked up from others. But sometimes, just sometimes, she couldn’t help herself. Wanting so badly to help despite how it never went as well as she wanted it to.
“I know you can’t control the mind reading thing,” They said, voice low. “But don’t talk about whatever you see.”
Imogen winced, but nodded as she released Ashton. At the very least, he didn’t seem angry with her. They nudged into her shoulder, in fact, before they hunched a bit to pick the hammer up off the ground to go join the others. Imogen sighed, shoulders slumping. She rubbed her hands up over her face, breathing slowly through her nose to try to recenter herself. Trying to fall back into the state of mind where she could more or less ignore the buzz of noise coming from her companions. Once she was as focused as she could possibly be, she squared her shoulders and joined at Laudna’s side.
Three days later, and Imogen hadn’t forgotten about it so much as she had made herself move on from the incident. Just like she always did, she took the thoughts that were constantly throwing themselves into her mind and shoved them away. She focused on checking the perimeter of their campsite when she felt Orym ache for his husband’s arm around him once they changed watch for the night, she rambled on about how the flowers on the roadside made a good tea when Dorian wondered if Laudna’s wounds were because he should have attacked the kobold on the right instead of the left, and she didn’t let herself meet Ashton’s eyes when they called themselves an idiot for wanting Orym by their side when he sat down next to Fearne by their fire.
They made their way to a tavern in the next town they came to, paid for their rooms. Imogen made it a fair amount of time before the noise became too much. The rowdy sound of a packed tavern mixed with the rush of thoughts and feelings surrounding them. No one questioned her when she said she was going to head to bed, where it was quiet.
“Do you need me to go with you?” Laudna asked, reaching to touch Imogen’s wrist as she stood. Imogen smiled at her, chest tight.
“No, no I’m fine. Stay and enjoy yourself.” She insisted, touching Laudna’s hand right back.
The room made it a little better. At the very least, the outward noise was muffled even if there was still a buzzing of overlapping thoughts. She lit the lantern by the bed, and settled down with one of her books. Hoping that getting lost in the story might ease the sound a little more.
She was a few chapters in when there was a knock on the door. Imogen’s brows furrowed, chest immediately going tight with worry. Laudna would have just walked in, so it had to be someone else. She tucked her bookmark into the book, setting it down as she stood.
When Imogen opened the door, Ashton was on the other side and Imogen blinked a few times. As if she thought maybe she was imagining things. She straightened up a little bit, brows furrowing even further.
“Are you alright?” She asked, not bothering with a greeting. Ashton’s tongue poked out to wet their lips, and they shrugged a bit.
“I was thinking.” They began, glancing down the hall towards the stairs then looking at Imogen again. “About what you said.”
Imogen blinked again. What she said? What had she said, recently? The past few days had, frankly, been a bit of a blur with them going longer than they ever had before - as a group, at least. - needing to camp out instead of having any inns or taverns to stay in.
“I don’t…” She began, and she immediately felt guilty for not remembering what she’d apparently said and she tried to focus on the noise. On whatever Ashton might be thinking in hopes of being able to figure it out but there was just so much . So much muffled thoughts, incoherent from liquor and all overlapping until she couldn’t pick out any individual words, let alone who they might be coming from.
Ashton licked at his lips again, then rubbed a hand over their face. They huffed, looking off to the side. For a long moment, they let the silence linger. Then they squared their shoulders as if preparing for something.
“I want to talk about it.” They said. Imogen took approximately three seconds to understand, and her eyes went wide.
“Oh.” she said, then she nodded and rushed to step out of the way of the door so Ashton could come in. “Oh, right. Okay. Come in?” She offered.
Ashton nodded, shoulders slumping as they crossed the threshold of the door. They stood there, in the center of the room, while Imogen shut the door. The silence lingered again, long enough for Imogen to shift her weight from one foot to the next and wonder if she should say something. But, Ashton sighed and dug the toe of his boot into the floor.
“Could talk to Letters but you know how they are.” They said, waving a vague hand. “They’d try to... fix it. And I really don’t feel like dealing with that. I just…”
“Just need to vent?” Imogen supplied when it seemed like Ashton wasn’t going to. Ashton huffed out a noise that sounded like a laugh and nodded.
“Yeah.” They turned to face Imogen fully. “And if anyone is gonna’ get it, it’s going to be the one who’s in my head.”
Imogen winced, looking down and awkwardly tugging at the bottom hem of her vest.
“I try not to listen, I really do.” She said, but when she looked up, Ashton was shaking their head.
“I know. It wasn’t an accusation.” They leaned back against the bedside table, crossing an ankle over the other before offering a little smirk that didn’t quite reach their eyes. “I can’t imagine my thoughts are exactly quiet, either.”
Imogen winced apologetically once again, and she shook her head. “You’re kind of loud.” She confirmed, and Ashton chuckled.
Imogen tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, stepping forward toward Ashton. She left a few paces between them, not wanting to entirely crowd in on them, but she reached a hand out toward them.
“For what it’s worth?” She started, head tilting. “I think you’re too hard on yourself. I mean...Orym’s a good guy, there’s nothing wrong with liking that.”
Ashton’s nose scrunched up in a way that was surprisingly adorable, and they turned their head to look off to the side. Unable to meet Imogen’s gaze now that they were actually talking about it, now that the conversation was more real.
“Yeah. Orym’s a good guy. And I’m not.” He said, jaw clenching up, and Imogen’s heart broke.
She shook her head, closing that distance and reaching to grab Ashton’s hands in her own. Ashton didn’t look at her, but they did allow her to take their hands. Imogen squeezed gently, needing to tilt her head back just a bit to look up at him even with how he was leaned back against the table.
“Ashton, some petty crime and a few bad decisions doesn’t make you a bad guy.” She insisted, tugging at their hands in the hopes that it would urge them to look at her. When they glanced at her, she offered a smile. “And besides, isn’t whether or not you’re good enough for him something he’d need to decide?”
Once again, Ashton’s nose scrunched up a bit. For a long moment, they didn’t say anything. Just staring at a vague spot off to the side as they let Imogen hold onto their hands. Then, his shoulders slumped a bit and he shook his head.
“Historically, me and relationships don’t work.” They said, finally looking at Imogen fully, again. “Stick with hook ups and some casual friends with benefits situations and you don’t run the risk of getting hurt.”
“But then you run the risk of being lonely.” She countered. Ashton sighed, gently pulling their hands free from Imogen’s hold. Imogen took a step back, giving them a bit of space. “I mean, I get it. Telling someone you like them is hard. Even if you have no reason to think it’ll end horribly.”
Imogen shrugged a bit, chewing her lip as she said it. Guilt and longing battling it out deep in her gut as she lifted her hands to absently straighten out a bit of the hair that was falling over her shoulder. Ashton looked at her, regarding her carefully. Brows pulling together softly, hardly enough to notice. Then, a shocked recognition lit up in Ashton’s eyes and they straightened up a bit.
“Wait,” they said, lifting a hand slightly, letting it hover in the air like they were halfway to holding up a finger. “Wait, are...are you and Laudna not a thing?”
Imogen winced again, then let her hands drop down against her front. Turning her head like Ashton had done, before, shifting her weight from one foot to the next.
“No. I mean, I know I should tell her. I promised I wouldn’t keep secrets and I know she wouldn’t be upset with me, I just get so nervous every time I try.” She blurted out, and it felt like a weight was lifted from her shoulders to finally say it. To be able to talk about it to someone.
She sighed again, more defeated than anything else, and her hands came up to press against her cheeks even as she went to collapse on the edge of the bed. She heard shuffling, then the bed dipped beside her as Ashton sat down, as well.
“I really thought you two were a done deal from the day we met.” Ashton said, and Imogen made a soft whining sound in the back of her throat.
“Sometimes it feels like she thinks I’m just...some kid she needs to look out for.” She admitted, and she felt a vague understanding over the din of noise still taking up her head from the patrons downstairs.
It was quiet, again, for a moment. Then, Ashton pushed to his feet and turned until he was stood directly in front of Imogen. They waited until Imogen looked up at them, and offered a hand.
“How ‘bout this,” They began. “You and me get a drink, we go for a walk where those dumb fucks downstairs can’t overrun your head, and we...talk about our fucking feelings.”
Imogen blinked once, then twice, then a smile burst out across her face. She reached to take the proffered hand, tugging herself up to her feet with a bit more bounce than she’d had, earlier.
“Sounds like a plan.”