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-MOSS AGATE-
Ashton almost walks right by it. There’s really no fucking need to pick it up. It’s not the prettiest of gems, certainly. Instead, they stop. They stare at it for a full five minutes before slipping it into their pocket. He’s not entirely sure what prompted him to pick it up.
Then there’s a flash of green and brown in their periphery and they know why they picked it up. For Orym. They don’t even know if Orym likes gemstones. Sure, he went off after that giant ass fucking rabbit, but he gave that stone to Imogen. But maybe he gave it to her because it was magical. And Ashton is pretty fucking sure this stone isn’t magical. It’s slightly pretty.
It’s more than that , they think. They weren’t always rock. He used to be soft. When the changes started happening, when he began to harden, he did some research. So they know what this stone is. Not only do they know what it is, they know what it means.
Moss Agate: Contentment. Connection with Nature. Abundance.
Obviously, connection with nature makes them think of Orym. He might deny having abilities, but Ashton’s watched him sprout fucking flowers all over the place. Like it or not, he has a connection with nature. And now Ashton can’t even be outside without fucking thinking about him, but that’s neither here nor there.
Abundance. Orym has an abundance of stability. Of friendship. Dependability. The guy was abundant as fuck. But that’s not really important. He didn’t pick the fucking thing up because it means abundance.
He didn’t pick it up because it means connection with nature, no matter how well that fits for Orym. No. If they’re being honest with themself, and they usually fucking are, they picked it up because it means contentment. Because that’s how he feels around Orym. Content. Because he knows Orym has his back. And that Orym is safe. They trust Orym. And this newfound group? It’s starting to feel right. And they’re starting to feel content with how things are going.
They worry the stone in their pocket for a few days before finally getting up the nerve to give it to Orym. And even then, they don’t actually give it to him. Nope. He tries to slip it into Orym’s pocket unnoticed. Which is a stupid fucking idea with the worlds most perceptive fucker as the recipient, but hey. Ashton isn’t exactly known for his brilliance.
They try anyway. And as they expected, it fails spectacularly. Their hand hasn’t even made it to Orym’s pocket when green eyes find theirs.
“What are you doing?” Orym asks, soft smile teasing the corner of his lips.
“Nothing,” Ashton answers. He sounds suspicious, even to himself.
Orym cocks his head, looking him over. “That’s the same way you say nothing when you’re trying to steal from Fearne,” he observes. There’s no accusation in his voice.
“I’m not trying to steal from you,” Ashton tells him anyway, stone gripped tightly in their hands.
“What are you trying to do?” Orym asks, raising a brow.
Ashton heaves a sigh. “Fuck, fine. Here,” and they shove the stone at him.
Orym takes it, nearly dropping it in his surprise. “What’s this?”
“A stone.”
“Okay. But why are you giving it to me?” Orym asks, brow wrinkled with confusion.
Ashton shrugs. “Thought you liked stones. You ran after a rabbit for one.”
“I gave that to Imogen, though,” he informs them.
“Cause it was magic. Now you have your own. You’re welcome,” Ashton snarks, sending him a cocky smirk and hoping that’s the end of the conversation.
Orym looks like he wants to say more. Thankfully, he doesn’t. Instead, he pockets the stone and looks up at Ashton. “Thanks, Ash.”
Him and that fucking nickname. “You’re welcome.” Ashton picks up their pace, quickly stepping away from him and joining Laudna near the front of the group. He has no idea what she talks to him about, his mind still focused on the conversation with Orym.
“Are you okay Ashton?” she asks, her voice it’s usual flavor of creepy. “You look a little flushed.”
“Fucking fine,” they grunt, pushing past her. They’ll scout or something. Just until they can get their emotions in check. Not that they’re having fucking emotions.
-Red Jasper-
They noticed the flowers. Actually, fuck that. They’re not going to lie to themself. They didn’t notice the fucking flowers. They noticed Fearne notice the fucking flowers. He still doesn’t even know what it means. Orym’s always blooming random ass flowers. If he hadn’t caught Fearne’s pointed stare, he wouldn’t have noticed.
But they did catch her stare, and now they notice. They notice that the flowers are almost always for them. Sure, Orym will bloom a few on Fearne’s ass occasionally. And he even gave one to Imogen when she was having a bad day. But he’s always blooming around Ashton.
And now that he’s noticed it, he’s also noticed that it seems to surprise Orym. That he might not be meaning to bloom these flowers. Some of them, at least.
“What do they mean?” Ashton asks with little fanfare, plopping down next to Fearne on watch.
“What do what mean?” she asks, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes.
Ashton rolls his. “You fucking know what I mean. But fine. Wanna play coy? The fucking flowers that Orym sprouts all the damn time. What do they mean?”
“Oh, well you’ll need to be more specific than that. Flowers have all sorts of meanings,” Fearne deflects.
“The one’s he bloomed this morning. What do those mean?” Ashton asks, referring to the simple blue blossoms he gave Laudna in passing.
“Oh, well those are a symbol of respect. They mean he has her back. That he trusts her,” Fearne explains.
“So he blooms friendship flowers?” Ashton clarifies. That makes sense. The guy does seem to go out of his way to befriend everyone in this fucking group.
“Well, not always,” Fearne adds, and once more, mischief is in her eyes.
“The fuck does that mean?”
“Exactly what I said. Not all of his flowers are for friendship.”
“What else are they for?”
“Flowers can express a lot of things. Friendship. Hate. Love. Blooming attraction,” she adds, snickering over the pun.
“But for our group. Those flowers are friendship?” Ashton asks. He’s not sure why he needs the clarity. Why they need to know it’s just friendship. But he does.
“Not always,” she replies, yawning widely. “Oh, boy. I’m just… so tired.” And she gets up and walks to her bed roll.
“You’re on watch with me!” they remind her.
“You’ve got it,” she assures, climbing into her bed and rolling over.
They decided to walk the perimeter, try to gather their thoughts. What the fuck does Fearne mean, not all of them are friendship? Does Orym hate one of the members? Does he hate Ashton? Surely not. Orym doesn’t seem capable of that level of deception. And Ashton can’t believe he’d run with a group with an immense dislike of one of the members.
But surely he doesn’t love any of them. They haven’t been together long enough for that. Maybe Fearne, but he gets the impression Fearne wasn’t referring to herself. Dorian? Maybe? Dorian isn’t around anymore, but Fearne could mean him. Again, Ashton doesn’t think so.
Imogen? Yeah. Imogen makes sense. Orym and her seem to be very close. And he doesn’t bloom flowers for her very often. Certainly not as often as he does for Ashton. That’s go to be it. And not love, no. Too early for that. But blooming attraction? They shudder even as they think Fearne's words. It’s a terrible pun. But attraction makes sense. Orym’s attracted to her, and that’s growing as they travel together.
Having figured it out to his satisfaction, a flash of red catches his eye. Bending over, he picks up the small piece of red jasper and slips it into his pocket. Strength. Honesty. Stability. They’ll figure out a way to slip it to him unnoticed this time. In fact…
They sneak over to his sleeping form, watching him for a few minutes, contemplating their plan. Then, crouching down beside him, they slowly slip the rock into his pocket and dart away.
Orym rolls in his sleep and they hold their breath. But he starts snoring softly and Ashton smiles. Fucking success. Maybe he should try to pickpocket Fearne while he’s at it.
“I saw that,” Fearne replies, and he absolutely doesn’t fucking jump.
“Saw what?” Ashton asks.
“I saw you slip something into Orym’s pocket. What was it?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
-Ruby Fuchsite-
“Nice flower, Ashton,” Imogen comments as they watch over the group that night.
Ashton’s fingers absently trace over the stem sitting behind his ear. “What about it?”
“It’s just a compliment,” Imogen assures them. Not that they believe her.
“Right.”
“Orym’s been giving you a lot of flowers lately,” she continues.
“He gives everyone flowers,” Ashton deflects.
“Not as many as he gives you, though.”
Ashton shrugs. “I like the flowers. I appreciate them. Maybe he gives them to me because I appreciate them,” they tell her, daring her to argue.
“I’m sure that’s it,” she says with a little knowing smile.
They let a little silence drift between them for a moment before asking what they’ve been dying to ask. “What was up with the grass, though? He usually grows flowers.”
“The grass?” Imogen asks, brows wrinkled in confusion.
“Yeah, the fucking carpet of grass he grew while unconscious today.”
“Oh, you mean the ferns?”
“Ferns, grass, same thing,” Ashton insists.
“Maidenhair,” Imogen says.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“That’s the type of fern he grew,” Imogen answers.
“How the fuck do you know that? Does everyone know about plants and flowers and shit except me?” Ashton asks, dumbstruck by her knowledge.
“I can’t speak for anyone else, but I only know that one because it grew behind my home.”
“Happen to know what it means?” Ashton asks. Orym was unconscious when he bloomed it, which means it was a subconscious choice.
“Fascination and magic,” Imogen tells him.
Ashton snorts. “Guess that makes sense. Lot of magical fuckers in this group.”
Imogen smiles at him, and there was that sparkle of knowledge again. What the fuck was it with these people?
“What?” they bark.
“Nothing. Maybe you should get a book about flowers. Since you’re so curious, and all,” she suggests.
“Maybe I will,” he snarks back. But it’s not a bad idea. They’d like to know what all these flowers and plants and shit Orym keeps growing mean. Does he even do it on purpose? For that matter, does he even care what the meanings are? Maybe he just thinks they’re pretty. Not everything has to fucking mean something.
Absently, he fingers the rock in his pocket. They found it a few days ago, but haven’t decided if they wanted to give it to Orym yet or not. Ruby fuchsite: integration, friendship, trust. Not that Orym would know that’s what it means. But it feels like their little game now. Orym gives him a flower, he sneaks a rock into Orym’s belongings.
They remember the morning after the jasper, Orym finding it in his pocket and his eyes immediately finding Ashton across the camp. How they’d lit up with his smile as he held the rock up for a moment, before stuffing it back into his pocket. It’s how Ashton feels every time Orym puts a stupid flower behind their ear.
Once more, his fingers find the stem, touching it carefully so as not to dislodge it. They can only keep it for about an hour longer. Then they’d go to bed, and the flower will surely fall out or be dead by the morning. But until then, he’d cherish it.
They let their eyes linger on Orym’s sleeping form. His eyes have been finding Orym more and more lately. They can’t seem to help it. Once more, he thinks back to Orym falling earlier. To his hysterical laughing fit. And how fucking terrified Ashton had been. He hates that Orym puts himself in danger like that. Not that he can talk. He does the same thing.
They also remember him apologizing for being distracted. But he never did say what had distracted him. In fact, he’d purposely avoided the topic altogether.
Standing, Ashton tip toes over to Orym, slipping the small green and pink stone into his bag. It would take him longer to find it that way, but that’s okay. There’s not time limit on this little game. Imogen is watching him when he approaches the fire.
“What was that about?” she asks.
“Little game we have going,” Ashton tells her.
Imogen nods. “Like you and Fearne?”
“Not exactly,” they answer immediately. Then they frown. But it is like him and Fearne. That’s exactly what this is. So why did they say it wasn’t?
-Unakite-
Ashton stews. What the fuck happened that night? Why can’t they remember? Why can’t Milo remember? They don’t want to find the fucking Nobodies and figure this shit out, but something wasn’t adding up.
He’s thankful Orym came with him to Krook House. It was nice to have someone else there while he talked to Milo. And it was nice of Imogen and FCG to dive into his thoughts. Help him try to remember. But fuck. Now they’re pissed, negative energy dripping off of them like sweat. And nowhere to put that energy.
Which is how he found himself in a bar, flipping the Unakite he found at a vendor, and successfully snagged, over on the bar top. They were lucky to even spot it. It was buried in a pile of the more common gemstones that tourists buy as if they mean fucking anything. But this stone does mean something. And as soon as they saw it, they knew they’d need to give it to Orym.
Attraction. Resolving conflict. Healing the past. Ashton chuckles, downing the rest of his ale. Little did he fucking know, but apparently some god is having a fucking laugh at his expense. Healing the past. They’re not fucking healing anything right now. Maybe down the road, but right now the past was bitch slapping them in the fucking face.
Resolving conflict? What fucking conflict? What were they resolving? Conflict is swirling around him, trying to catch him and fling him across this fucking city. Or to Bassuras, since that looks like it’s to be their next fucking destination. Fuck. That’s a fucking mistake.
Attraction makes sense. Whatever the fuck this thing is with Orym, attraction is absolutely there. They’ve always appreciated pretty things. Fuck, that’s why he steals from Fearne. She’s pretty and she has pretty things. But it’s different with Orym. It’s more now. And that’s fucking scary.
“You okay?” comes his soft voice and Ashton internally groans. Fuck. They are way too fucking raw to be dealing with this right now. “Sorry. That’s probably a dumb question.”
“No. Definitely not fucking okay. But it’s fine. What the fuck else were you supposed to ask?” Ashton replies.
“That was a lot,” Orym comments, flagging the bartender and ordering drinks for both of them.
Ashton swirls his mug on the counter, barely catching it before it careens off the counter. Orym’s hand is hovering right under theirs. “Yeah. It was,” they agree.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Orym offers, sliding the shot of whiskey his way.
Ashton takes it and considers the question. Does he wanna talk about it? Downing the shot, they decide to give it a fucking try. What do they have to lose? “Not really, but I probably should.”
“I won’t push,” Orym promises.
And he fucking knows that. They know he’d never push them past their limits. That part of the fucking attraction that is growing day by day as he gets to know this seemingly unassuming halfling. “I know.”
Orym sits in silence with them, watching their fingers twirl the stone on the countertop. Fuck it. It’s for him anyway. They slide the stone over before speaking again. “I remembered some things. Things I haven’t told the others. Things that… fucking hurt if I’m being honest.”
“Like what?” Orym prompts when he falls silent once more.
“I remember, right after the fall, when I was lying barely conscious on the ground. I remember the group coming up on me and one of them saying to leave me. That I was already dead. But I wasn’t fucking dead because I remember it! I can remember the words. And fuck. That hurts. It’s like I didn’t fucking mean anything to them.”
Orym slides his own shot of whiskey over to Ashton and he gratefully accepts it. They pick it up, downing the shot, and slam the glass on the counter.
“I hope you know we’d never do that to you,” Orym replies. “Even if you were dead, we’d never leave you. I would never leave you Ashton. At the very least I’d make sure you got a proper burial.”
Tears prick the back of Ashton’s eyes and he swipes at them furiously. “I thought they would do the same,” they admit sadly.
Orym’s hand covers his and they sit in silence for a few minutes.
“Why the rocks?” Orym asks, sometime later, as the bar is clearing out and the space is beginning to feel intimate.
“Why the flowers?” Ashton asks, arching a brow.
A faint blush spreads across his cheeks and Ashton can see him swallow a few times before answering. “Are you really asking, or are you implying that the reason is the same?” Orym asks.
“Both, kinda. But I think the reason is the same,” Ashton admits.
Orym flips the stone over in his fingers. “This one looks a little like you,” he comments.
Ashton looks down at it, trying to see it from Orym’s eyes. It does look like him. The green interspersed with golden striations. These striations are natural whereas Ashton’s were made. But he gets it.
“I does, kind of,” they finally agree.
-Carnelian-
They’re not sure why they decided to go back to the vendor. Dusk had already looked at the rings. Treshi’s ring was too fucking much to be buying back. But they feel drawn to it. So while everyone else has bunked down for the night, they make the incredibly unwise decision to go exploring fucking Bassuras at night.
To be fair, he fucking grew up here. He knows how to handle himself in this city. They also know that the golden scars running along their body send a warning as well. Milo knows them well. Knew that they would like the aposematism of the gold standing stark against their green skin.
They make their way through the mostly vacant streets, glaring at the few fools who look daring enough to try something. Arriving at the shop, they find it closed. Which fucking makes sense. They’re not even sure why they came. Of course it’s fucking closed. It’s the middle of the gods damned night.
But he came all this way and he’s not going to let a little thing like the business being closed stop him. So they find a window and shimmy it open. They check for traps and alarms as best they can before crawling through the window and into the dark interior. Well, fuck. They should have thought of that, too.
It takes some time, searching for something to use as light. But eventually they find a lantern on the wall. Lighting it, they toss their vest over top to reduce the amount of light that could be seen from outside.
There are a wide assortment of rings and other jewelry items. The high priced stuff has a shimmer of magic over them, wisely protected from anyone who might try to break in. But he’s not after anything expensive. No, he’s looking for carnelian.
In the cheap, costume jewelry section, he finds a fairly nice, wide band silver ring with a raw carnelian stone embedded in it. He checks for alarms, traps, triggers. Finding none, he snatches it up. Then they leave 30 gold in its place. That’s absolutely more than the thing is worth. But shit was hard enough in Bassuras without being robbed. Even if the item is cheap.
They climb back out the window and back to their friends. Carnelian: passion, sexual energy, creativity. They knew when they started out this evening, this was what they were looking for. It’s not exactly a rare stone around here. So he knew it was likely he’d be able to find something with it. But they also knew they were looking for a ring specifically.
This is a step forward from the previous rocks. This isn’t something he can just sneak into Orym’s pack like it’s no big deal. They can sneak it into his pack. Sure. But it’s a big fucking deal. It’s nearly a promise.
They chuckle to themself, putting the ring on their pinkie so they don’t lose it. He’s about to give Orym a fucking promise ring. They’re not even sure what the fuck they’re promising. To give this a shot, maybe? To explore whatever the fuck it is they have going with Orym. To not run away because it’s emotions and it’s fucking hard.
Whatever they were promising, they would follow through with it. They wouldn’t fucking give up on Orym.
They sneak back in through the flap to find Orym awake. “Where’d you go?” he asks.
“Needed to burn off some energy,” he answers.
“Right. 24-48 hours for an answer,” Orym jokes.
Ashton heaves a sigh. “I went to get something,” they try again. “For you.”
Orym arches a brow. “For me?”
“Yeah.” They’re not really ready to say more. Not yet. They hadn’t thought he’d be awake when they got back. That he’d have to fucking deal with this when he got back. So he’s stalling.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Orym tells him. But Ashton can tell he’s touched. The faint flush on his cheeks, the sparkle in those stupidly fucking green eyes. He’s happy Ashton got him something.
“I know. That’s half the fun,” he deflects. And Orym doesn’t pressure him. He doesn’t ask what it is. Ask to see it. He doesn’t fucking do any of those things. He simply sits there with Ashton, letting the silence settle around them comfortably. And that’s exactly what Ashton needed. Cause as soon as the silence settles and his heart rate has calmed down, he slips his hand into his pocket and produces the ring. They turn it over in their fingers a few times before handing it to Orym, not looking at the halfling.
“A ring?” Orym asks, voice slightly choked.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Ashton says immediately. It doesn’t, even if he hopes it does.
“Sure. But does it?” Orym asks, tilting his head.
Fuck. Leave it to Orym to dive right to the heart of the topic, pulling Ashton along with him. “It does,” Ashton finally admits, heart rate picking back up. It feels like a crawler stampeding through his chest, but he swallows it down and turns to face Orym.
Orym’s not looking at them. Instead, he’s studying the ring, finger grazing softly over the red stone. “What’s this stone mean?”
Now it’s Ashton’s turn to blush. “Passion,” they reply. That’s not the whole meaning, but it’s enough. It gets the point across.
He can see Orym’s eyes widen in the moonlight. “Passion?” he asks, still not looking at Ashton.
Ashton shrugs. “Yeah. But like I said. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Up to you.”
He knows this is a lot. That Orym has shit to deal with and might not be ready. But the offer is there. And that’s all they can do. So they stand up, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently. “It doesn’t have to mean anything,” they remind him before slipping into the shadows of the room to get some sleep.
-Rose quartz-
Of fucking course Dusk was playing them. They should have seen it. In hindsight, the signs were fucking everywhere. They weren’t even that fucking good at it! But he’s been distracted. Orym hasn’t treated them any differently since they gave him the ring. Nope. Everything has been exactly the same. The light flirting. The camaraderie. Every fucking thing has been exactly as it always has been.
That shouldn’t be a problem, but it fucking was. Because Ashton isn’t sure if that meant he’d declined the offer the ring made, or if it meant he was still thinking about it. They could ask. But that presented a whole host of scary shit they didn’t want to deal with.
So instead, they’re pacing around outside the weird cave base laboratory that Birdie and Ollie set up with the fucking Nightmare King. They used the excuse of checking to make sure their tracks really were covered, but they’re pretty sure no one bought it. Certainly not Orym.
During their pacing, they see the rose quartz. Was the universe just fucking with them now? They pick it up anyway, shoving it into their pocket. Heaving a sigh, he throws himself to the ground. Love. Of course they love him. How could he not?
Who wouldn’t love Orym? He so selflessly gives his all to every situation. Constantly taking care of his friends. Of Ashton. Briefly, their mind flashes back to the alley and the spell the caster put on them. How he could see this version of himself, this evil person, and how badly that scared him. And how somehow Orym recognized that something was wrong. He took their hand, and tried to lead him away. Away from the caster, the alley, the fucking situation. That’s not what Ashton needed though. He needed to do something to this guy. He needed to fuck with him how he was fucked with.
And Orym didn’t deny him that. He didn’t try to lead them away. He didn't pull. He kept his hand in Ashton’s and stayed with them as they screamed their anger. As they knocked the man out and robbed him blind. He stayed with them and supported them. It might not have been what Orym would have done, but he recognized that Ashton was a different person and needed to make decisions on his own and fuck… is that when they fell in love with him?
He doesn’t realize he’s crying until a drop lands in the sand next to his hand, turning the tan sand to a deeper, richer brown, the reds deepening enough to stand out. But they don’t bother to stem it this time. Instead, they lean their head back against the cliff and let the tears come.
Belatedly, they hear footsteps. They’re too exhausted to fight. To deal with this. If it’s another gang coming to kill him, fucking let them.
They’re waiting for the blow to come. Instead, small hands cradle his face and he opens his eyes to find verdant eyes shimmering with concern.
“Ash?” Orym asks, voice cracking on the single word. “Are you okay?”
Ashton nods, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears away. “Yeah. It’s just… been a rough few days, ya know?”
Orym nods, keeping his hands firm on Ashton’s face. “Want to talk about it?”
Ashton shakes his head. “Nah. Nothing important. Excess emotions, is all.”
Orym’s hand strokes down the side of Ashton’s face, his eyes fixed on theirs. “I’m always here. If you need to talk.”
“I know. Trust me. Out of every fucked up thing that’s happened to turn our worlds fucking sideways, I know I can count on you. That I can trust you. And talk to you,” they assure him.
Orym nods sagely, pulling away and sitting down next to him. One small hand covers his and he sees the ring.
“You’re wearing the ring,” they comment dumbly. Does that mean something? Is he accepting Ashton? Is he willing to give this thing a shot?
“I am,” Orym responds, threading his fingers with Ashton’s. “Sorry it took me so long. I had some things to figure out.”
“Of course. There’s no rush,” Ashton immediately assures him. Waiting has been fucking HARD, but he would never rush Orym. Not with something important.
“But I have an answer for you,” he continues, looking up at Ashton. Hope blooms painfully in their chest.
“Yeah?”
“I’d like to try,” Orym says simply. Ashton reaches into his pocket and hands him the pink translucent stone before he even recognizes what he’s doing. “What’s this?”
“Rose quartz,” Ashton answers, heart hammering in their throat.
“And what does rose quartz mean?” Orym asks, turning to face them.
“I think it means I love you,” Ashton whispers, the words terribly difficult to get past his lips.
Orym inhales sharply, looking down at the stone and back up and Ashton. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers.
Ashton leans forward, answering the question with their lips.