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Uncharacteristically, Ashton is up early. They’d passed out at the back of the skyship at some point in the night. Their body is loudly reminding them exactly why that was a terrible idea.
That and the drinking, which has left their mouth dry and their head pounding worse than normal. They massage their left temple with one hand and feel around blindly with their other for their waterskin. Where the fuck did they leave it?
Lookin’ for this? The words appear in his head as if he’d thought them himself, but Ashton recognizes the voice as Imogen’s. He’s still not used to that, despite the fact that she’s literally been trapped inside his timebomb of a brain. He turns around to find her standing close behind him, one hand lifted to telekinetically guide his waterskin out from its hiding place, rolled partially behind a nearby barrel. She floats it within Ashton’s grasp, and they reach up and take it, drinking deeply.
And, because it’s cool and they can, they respond mentally as they gulp down the water. Thanks. They think they catch a glimpse of Imogen rolling her eyes at the brevity of their response, but it’s hard to be sure with the waterskin lifted to their mouth, partially obscuring their good eye’s view of her. They smirk.
Imogen comes to sit near them. “Long night?” She asks aloud.
“Not fucking long enough.” They shoot back. Their head is still pounding, and their body aches from sleeping on the hard wood of the deck through the cold desert night. There’s a chill that settles deep into their stony skin and tightens all of their muscles in a painful way. The early morning sun does little to chase the cold away, and Ashton knows he’ll probably be cold and stiff until the fighting starts.
“Why’d you sleep out here?” Imogen asks, tilting her head at him with an expression that reminds them exactly how much she sees. He knows she can see exactly how awful his body feels right now. No matter how hard she might try to shut out their thoughts, she still knows more than Ashton would have told her.
“Just cause you’ve got a designated cuddle buddy doesn’t mean we all do.” Ashton retorts, suddenly feeling vulnerable and defensive. He’s fairly certain Imogen spent the night with Laudna last night. Irritatingly stable Laudna. Laudna who’s got just as much reason to be fucked up as Ashton does, probably more, and yet somehow manages to handle her shit. To have someone who would go to the ends of Exandria for her.
It doesn’t escape Ashton’s notice that no one came looking for them last night. Not FCG, not Orym, not Fearne. They all let him sleep out in the cold.
He knows it's stupid to be hurt about something he chose to do himself. But Ashton never claimed to be a fucking rational person.
“I think you’ve got options, if you wanted to spend the night with somebody.” Imogen says, and despite himself Ashton flushes. He’s not sure how he feels about Imogen picking up on his fucked up brand of flirting–clumsy pick-pocketing and combo battle moves–or the implication that she thinks any of those longings might be more than one-sided.
“Yeah, well. I’m a fucking dumbass.” They roll their shoulders, wincing. Fuck, they’re sore. They close their eyes against the rising sun, which feels like it's stabbing into the sensitive flesh of their brain. Great fucking way to start his last day alive. They need to get their shit together if they’re going to be any fucking use today.
“Are you alright, Ashton?” Imogen asks, voice low and soft. “Laudna told me you seemed…off, the other night.”
Ashton laughs. Of course Laudna had talked to Imogen about that. “I think it would be fucked up if any of us wasn’t a little off right now, considering we’re all probably gonna die today.” Ashton points out. Imogen makes a small acknowledging hum. Ashton’s head continues to feel like there are nails being driven into it. “I almost feel shitty enough that it doesn’t sound too fucking bad.” They don’t mean it, not really. But who cares what they actually want? Answers, a family. Not like they’re ever actually gonna fucking get it, so might as well go out doing something useful for the rest of the fucking world.
“Yeah. I’ve been there.” Ashton glances up at Imogen. She’s not looking at him. “It’s not the same. Mine’s not all the time. And it’s not…all over. But sometimes when I’m around too many people, or their thoughts get too…” She shakes her head. “It’s like knives digging in and twisting. And I think that I’d do anything to shut them out.”
Ashton’s usually not one for the I understand how you feel talk, considering they know nobody fucking does. But Imogen…it’s fucking close enough, especially since she’s seen inside their fucking brain enough to know what she’s talking about. “How come you’re not wearing the…” they tap their forehead and nod at Imogen to indicate the place where a band of enchanted metal should rest, “circlet, or whatever?” They shift their position on the floor, wincing at the pull of gold on stone.
Imogen considers, closing her eyes. She pulls the circlet from her bag, turning it over in her hands. “It’s funny. All I’ve wanted since these powers first showed up was a way to control them, to block out the noise. But now that I have it…” she pauses. “What if losing this makes me different? I can’t remember who I was before I started hearing people’s thoughts. I’m scared.”
“Of course it’ll fucking make you different.” Ashton responds, shaking his head.
Imogen nods, like she knew that already. “What if I don’t like who I am without it?”
“Then you fucking become someone you do like.” Ashton sighs. “Look, I’m probably the worst fucking person to give any kind of advice. But everything that happens to you changes you. I know that fucking much. Doesn’t mean it is you.”
Imogen huffs. “You don’t understand.”
“ I don’t understand?” They let the hazy images of destruction from their childhood float to the surface of their mind, screaming and death and fear, followed by the worst memories of their slow shift to stone, the pain, the uncertainty, and then the horror of the shattering fall at Hexum’s, the terror and disorientation that followed. It’s a barrage of pain and change, screaming in their mind as loud as they can. They can tell by Imogen’s wince that she feels it. “You know, I said the same shit to Laudna the other night, and I was fucking wrong, too. Just cause someone deals with their shit different than you doesn’t mean they don’t have just as much shit.”
Imogen studies him. “Would you get rid of it? If you could?” She finally asks.
Ashton was expecting that. They shrug. “Depends on what you’re offering. I wouldn’t go back and undo it. Cause that shit…no, how I fucking dealt with that shit, that’s me. But the pain itself?” They nod. “If you handed me a magic headband that meant I’d never have to feel this again…” they point to their head, to the sparks of light bouncing painfully through their skull, “yeah. Yeah, I’d want that.” He meets Imogen’s eyes. “The suffering…it doesn’t make you who you are. It doesn’t make you a better person. It just fucking hurts.”
“Yeah.” Imogen sniffs. “Yeah, it does.” She looks back down at the circlet in her hands. “My mom’s gonna break the world to stop the voices. I can’t stop wonderin’ if I gave this to her…if she’d stop. Or if she’s too far gone.”
Ashton sighs. “Look. You know how I fucking feel about parents, so I don’t know. All I know is she left you to get messed up with this shit. And then she stayed gone. And then she found out you were going through the same fucking thing as she was, and she fucking pushed you away even more. That’s not how you treat your fucking kid.”
“You’re thinkin’ about your parents.” Ashton shoots her a wary look, and Imogen lifts her hands in surrender. “I didn’t hear it. Just a guess.”
They drop their head into their hands. “Yeah. I just…you started this wanting answers about your shit. About your mom. And look where that fucking led. I dunno. Maybe I don’t want to know where I come from. Maybe it’ll just make shit worse. Can’t make shit better. They left me. They chose to do that.” They sniff, shaking their head.
“Maybe knowing why would make it hurt less.” Imogen suggests.
Ashton looks up at her. “Did knowing why your mom left make it hurt less for you?” They ask. There’s no venom in their words, just genuine curiosity.
Imogen looks off the edge of the ship, eyes tracing the wavering ley lines lighting the morning sky. “I don’t know. I understand her more. She thinks she’s making the world a better place.”
Ashton huffs. “Yeah. Better for her group of buddies. And fuck whoever gets squashed under their boots this time.” Ashton shakes their head. “Whatever fucked up shit my parents were involved in got them and everyone they knew fucking ripped apart. I’m sure they thought they were making the world a better place, too.” They sigh. “If you wanna fix the world you find a way to do it without hurting people.”
Imogen nods sadly. “I know. I know she’s wrong. I just…I just want her to care that I’m her daughter. I don’t want her to…” Imogen wipes at her eyes. “I’ve gotta try, right? To show her the better way?”
Ashton nods. “We fucking try.” They stand, groaning at the strain it puts on their body. “You should put that on.” They nod toward the circlet. “There’s a hell of a lot more you can do when you’re not fighting your own fucking brain.” They start towards the kitchen in search of a warm meal. Might be their fucking last. “At least one of us should get to feel okay.”
Ashton. The voice is in their mind again. They turn to see Imogen still sitting where they left her. The circlet gleams on her head, resting among windblown purple waves. Whatever your parents did…I’m glad you survived it.
Ashton hesitates, eyes locked with Imogen’s, suddenly grateful for the circlet dampening the mess of emotion that is screaming in his mind right now. They nod at Imogen, not trusting their voice, internal or external, and then turn and walk away.