She's halfway through grabbing a shirt, fingers twisted in the material, when she just sort of... slows to a stop. Takes one hand, runs her thumb over the skin between her clavicles -- not that there's anything there, not for Armand, anyway; you can't see it unless you know it's there, but it's the crystal of a pendant set into her skin, the chain of it running below the skin and invisible.
That crystal's been green since the day she got it, which means the protection it grants her is on. She's always let Armand make the first move since then, and that seems to have circumvented it, worked around it, never tripped that rule on what happens if she attacks first --
It's red. The protection is gone. And she can't get it reactivated unless John does it, which means she needs to figure out how to explain any of this.
This is an entirely different type of dawning horror than she was just going through. She'd -- in retrospect she'd felt it as soon as she'd speared through Armand's thigh, some sixth-sense click of knowledge, but she hadn't cared. She'd been so focused on hurting him to get the message across that she hadn't actually identified that feeling for what it was.
Fuck. Fuck. How the hell is she going to explain anything to John? Even if he doesn't know she still needs to -- find some way to justify, to tell a story of how she attacked someone and the Dancer wasn't there for it. How is she -- how is -- how did she fuck up this badly, she was just trying to help --
Basically, instead of putting a new shirt on, Ashton stands near the closet with a shirt in her hands and dissociates. Leans back against the wall and slides down to sitting, her body not held quite right, like she's too aware of it to actually enter a relaxed position.
Armand had generously granted that Ashton could probably realize that she'd fucked up her attempt at a 'warning' when he'd first noticed her... disengagement. It's a state of mind that can happen to the best of them. It's a reasonable way to deal with a problem so that you can move on.
But while Ashton had violently reinforced that she cares too much about Aerith, she had already made that clear by talking to him in the first place. He doesn't think it's so dramatic as to cause this much of a reaction. Not when he's still in the room, at least.
This looks suspiciously like another problem, and Armand doesn't think she's so distractable that it could be about something completely unrelated to their current circumstances. Which means it could be a problem for him. It would be just like her.
He doesn't stand directly looming over her, but he does pause rather than going to pull out a new shirt for himself.
"None of your business." Maybe, if she keeps looking at this shirt for long enough, an answer will miraculously reveal itself to her. Or maybe she'll get a message on her communicator and need to dig it out of where she keeps it, since these pants didn't have pockets even before they sustained tragic damage. Or a third option! Who can say. Not her.
He scoffs. He would like it to not be his business! If he decided he had a sudden interest in other people's problems - which he does not - that list would not include Ashton! Yet what he wants has never held off misfortune.
"It is if it could cause problems for me." If he could trust Ashton not to spread misfortune around he could just throw her out, unfortunately, she can't be trusted.
It's what she does! It's who she is. She's really very good at it, ruining and breaking things, for someone who supposedly isn't fundamentally designed for it.
Some days she believes that whole idea, that there's nothing inherently wrong with her, more than others.
Armand knew that whatever Ashton's problem is would somehow become his problem. Sometimes his gift of prophecy pays off almost immediately. The dancer outside means that he couldn't choose 'pretend no one's here', so it's lucky he has all his problem solving skills to bring to bear.
He pulls off his ripped up shirt, tossing it into the wardrobe and closing the door. He gives Ashton one last glare, before slipping into a more 'casual' mode to open the door.
In the intervening moments since the knock, Ashton has managed to get that shirt on and is currently in the middle of wriggling into different shorts. Objectively being a shapeshifter could probably mean she could do this faster... somehow, but more than anything she's doing it with the sort of hurry that comes with knowing she was doing something she 'shouldn't' be and trying to hide it as fast as possible. She's pretty alright at quick changes these days.
She's still in the face she was in for working in the Lounge tonight when she gets to the door; dirty blonde curls pulled out of her face, black eyes, pierced ears, but otherwise not that far from her authentic appearance. For a moment she tries for a smile and just can't really make it there, not even for something plastic and fake. "You called?"
Ash sees John's hand, clearly processes it, and doesn't take it. She thinks about it! But it doesn't matter if he's not upset now, he's going to be, she's an incredible fuckup and who wouldn't be angry with that? Everyone should. Even John.
"Do we have to?" Private is fine; talking seems like it's out of her wheelhouse. As she's just been reminded of, she's very bad at it and is unlikely to improve any situation by doing it, so maybe it's not worth trying right now.
Maybe she could lie down for a while and not think about anything. That would be nice.
The necklace's crystal is clearly visible on her chest and definitely, unmistakably, red.
John nods. Then the hand he'd held out points to the crystal on the necklace before he draws it back.
"We do, yes. I'm sorry if I'm interrupting something," and there's a glance at Armand, "but I'm going to insist. Do you want to go to your cabin or mine?"
For all the many terrible things Ashton feels about Armand, she does at least appreciate and respect his immediate commitment to the lie when she isn't capable of it. At least someone's doing a bit of misdirection.
The decision takes her several seconds to make. What if, what if, what if — make a choice, Ash, don't just stand there — and eventually she lands on "Yours."
Ash would give a lot to have any other problem right about now! Maybe they could spontaneously combust. Unlikely, but still potentially preferable?
Not that he's really thinking about that in those terms. It's all tangled, at the moment. If it's not her cabin, she can't make it worse as easily; in John's cabin there's things she actually cares about breaking, about damaging. Distantly she wants to break something; distantly, distantly, distantly.
(Usually when she has these moments she just curls up in bed and doesn't go anywhere, doesn't do anything, doesn't talk to anyone. There hasn't been one for a while -- maybe she was due. Too long spent moderately feeling good about herself; it has to balance out, doesn't it?)
They don't say anything more. They just start walking, not a glance back; they know where they're going. Maybe they'll put their normal face back on at some point? --No. Not right now.
He'll close the door behind Ashton and walk beside them, carefully beside them and not in front or behind. He's not treating Ashton like a servant who's done poorly or like someone to pounce on in an unguarded moment. They're walking to his cabin to talk. That's it. He won't say anything until they get to his door, and then he's opening it and gesturing for Ashton to walk in. He'll wait until the door is closed behind him this time before he looks back to Ashton and finally lets the concern show.
"Mm." They heard him, understood him, and are responding in acknowledgment, and that's just about the extent of the answer they want to give. "Not really. Could be better." Ashton meanders over to the nearest chair and sits down; she's too-aware of her own body, too controlled for what should be automatic, unconscious movement.
What are they supposed to say? There's no good answer, is there? Every option's a bad one. They can't game this; they especially can't game this when everything feels so distant. What they wanted to do isn't any good. What they'd do if they weren't shackled, John wouldn't like, even if it'd be for Aerith's own good and it'd work. How they went in with half a plan and their fucking blinders on, so convinced it would work because it had to, and if they'd thought for one fucking second about everything they know about Armand how could they have ever come to the conclusion it'd work at all -- they just fucked it up, again, like they always do, just made it worse for everyone involved, just made it fucking worse -- and that's worse still if they're not meant for it, isn't it, because it means even then they still just --
The only thing that feels bright and clear and sharp is their awareness of that thorny tangle. What they wanted. What they meant. How in retrospect it would've never happened the way they wanted, and they're such a fucking idiot for thinking it would, for thinking it would make anything better at all.
Objectively they've been lying to John about Armand for months, and they don't feel bad about that, and the fact they don't feel bad about it just feels like more proof they're no good for anything or anyone right now.
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momijizukamori
no subject
Date: 2025-08-02 05:23 am (UTC)That crystal's been green since the day she got it, which means the protection it grants her is on. She's always let Armand make the first move since then, and that seems to have circumvented it, worked around it, never tripped that rule on what happens if she attacks first --
It's red. The protection is gone. And she can't get it reactivated unless John does it, which means she needs to figure out how to explain any of this.
This is an entirely different type of dawning horror than she was just going through. She'd -- in retrospect she'd felt it as soon as she'd speared through Armand's thigh, some sixth-sense click of knowledge, but she hadn't cared. She'd been so focused on hurting him to get the message across that she hadn't actually identified that feeling for what it was.
Fuck. Fuck. How the hell is she going to explain anything to John? Even if he doesn't know she still needs to -- find some way to justify, to tell a story of how she attacked someone and the Dancer wasn't there for it. How is she -- how is -- how did she fuck up this badly, she was just trying to help --
Basically, instead of putting a new shirt on, Ashton stands near the closet with a shirt in her hands and dissociates. Leans back against the wall and slides down to sitting, her body not held quite right, like she's too aware of it to actually enter a relaxed position.
no subject
Date: 2025-08-02 05:41 am (UTC)But while Ashton had violently reinforced that she cares too much about Aerith, she had already made that clear by talking to him in the first place. He doesn't think it's so dramatic as to cause this much of a reaction. Not when he's still in the room, at least.
This looks suspiciously like another problem, and Armand doesn't think she's so distractable that it could be about something completely unrelated to their current circumstances. Which means it could be a problem for him. It would be just like her.
He doesn't stand directly looming over her, but he does pause rather than going to pull out a new shirt for himself.
"What is it now?"
no subject
Date: 2025-08-02 05:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-02 06:02 am (UTC)"It is if it could cause problems for me." If he could trust Ashton not to spread misfortune around he could just throw her out, unfortunately, she can't be trusted.
no subject
Date: 2025-08-02 06:18 am (UTC)Some days she believes that whole idea, that there's nothing inherently wrong with her, more than others.
"None of your business."
no subject
Date: 2025-08-02 06:22 am (UTC)If he has to start playing a guessing game he'll be so unimpressed. ...Even more unimpressed than he is currently.
no subject
Date: 2025-08-02 07:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-02 07:26 am (UTC)Armand knew that whatever Ashton's problem is would somehow become his problem. Sometimes his gift of prophecy pays off almost immediately. The dancer outside means that he couldn't choose 'pretend no one's here', so it's lucky he has all his problem solving skills to bring to bear.
He pulls off his ripped up shirt, tossing it into the wardrobe and closing the door. He gives Ashton one last glare, before slipping into a more 'casual' mode to open the door.
"Yes?"
no subject
Date: 2025-08-02 08:05 am (UTC)There's a brief glance over of Armand before he pointedly doesn't look any further into the room.
"Could Ashton come to the door, please?"
no subject
Date: 2025-08-02 03:12 pm (UTC)In the intervening moments since the knock, Ashton has managed to get that shirt on and is currently in the middle of wriggling into different shorts. Objectively being a shapeshifter could probably mean she could do this faster... somehow, but more than anything she's doing it with the sort of hurry that comes with knowing she was doing something she 'shouldn't' be and trying to hide it as fast as possible. She's pretty alright at quick changes these days.
She's still in the face she was in for working in the Lounge tonight when she gets to the door; dirty blonde curls pulled out of her face, black eyes, pierced ears, but otherwise not that far from her authentic appearance. For a moment she tries for a smile and just can't really make it there, not even for something plastic and fake. "You called?"
no subject
Date: 2025-08-02 03:17 pm (UTC)"Can we talk in private for a moment?"
There's a look for the necklace. To see if it's on. To see what color it is.
There's no anger, not even the kind that hides behind a soft face or an over-sweet smile. He just looks focused and concerned. About Ashton.
no subject
Date: 2025-08-02 04:56 pm (UTC)He absolutely doesn't trust Ashton not to ruck this up - as that's already a lot cause - but he's done what he can.
no subject
Date: 2025-08-02 06:48 pm (UTC)"Do we have to?" Private is fine; talking seems like it's out of her wheelhouse. As she's just been reminded of, she's very bad at it and is unlikely to improve any situation by doing it, so maybe it's not worth trying right now.
Maybe she could lie down for a while and not think about anything. That would be nice.
The necklace's crystal is clearly visible on her chest and definitely, unmistakably, red.
no subject
Date: 2025-08-02 07:05 pm (UTC)"We do, yes. I'm sorry if I'm interrupting something," and there's a glance at Armand, "but I'm going to insist. Do you want to go to your cabin or mine?"
no subject
Date: 2025-08-02 07:10 pm (UTC)He manages a completely genuine, pleasant smile for Ashton because someone has to be a professional here.
no subject
Date: 2025-08-02 08:35 pm (UTC)The decision takes her several seconds to make. What if, what if, what if — make a choice, Ash, don't just stand there — and eventually she lands on "Yours."
no subject
Date: 2025-08-02 10:25 pm (UTC)The words are said softly, with appreciation. It feels like trust, of a kind. Even if he's well aware Ashton is feeling cornered.
He tips his head towards the hallway, the stairs; let's get going then.
no subject
Date: 2025-08-03 05:15 am (UTC)Not that he's really thinking about that in those terms. It's all tangled, at the moment. If it's not her cabin, she can't make it worse as easily; in John's cabin there's things she actually cares about breaking, about damaging. Distantly she wants to break something; distantly, distantly, distantly.
(Usually when she has these moments she just curls up in bed and doesn't go anywhere, doesn't do anything, doesn't talk to anyone. There hasn't been one for a while -- maybe she was due. Too long spent moderately feeling good about herself; it has to balance out, doesn't it?)
They don't say anything more. They just start walking, not a glance back; they know where they're going. Maybe they'll put their normal face back on at some point? --No. Not right now.
no subject
Date: 2025-08-03 05:18 am (UTC)"Are you okay?"
no subject
Date: 2025-08-03 05:50 am (UTC)What are they supposed to say? There's no good answer, is there? Every option's a bad one. They can't game this; they especially can't game this when everything feels so distant. What they wanted to do isn't any good. What they'd do if they weren't shackled, John wouldn't like, even if it'd be for Aerith's own good and it'd work. How they went in with half a plan and their fucking blinders on, so convinced it would work because it had to, and if they'd thought for one fucking second about everything they know about Armand how could they have ever come to the conclusion it'd work at all -- they just fucked it up, again, like they always do, just made it worse for everyone involved, just made it fucking worse -- and that's worse still if they're not meant for it, isn't it, because it means even then they still just --
The only thing that feels bright and clear and sharp is their awareness of that thorny tangle. What they wanted. What they meant. How in retrospect it would've never happened the way they wanted, and they're such a fucking idiot for thinking it would, for thinking it would make anything better at all.
Objectively they've been lying to John about Armand for months, and they don't feel bad about that, and the fact they don't feel bad about it just feels like more proof they're no good for anything or anyone right now.
no subject
Date: 2025-08-03 05:57 am (UTC)