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 Posted: Wed Oct 17, 2012 8:36 am
The notable silence of Ash's mind is a foreign, albeit welcome, change of pace. He takes a moment, examining it carefully before stirring.
There are no calls for home-- no voices cloying at his mind, like the soft but insistent waves of the tide, doomed to slowly erode at his defences over time.
It is silent, completely and utterly.
The Reaper cracks open his eyes, flexing his hands in front of himself, amazed. The grey patches are nothing but distant memory, now. The scars from his self mutilation remain, but beyond that...his skin is free. Clean of grey, cleansed by fire or something like it.
Ash stands, eyes scanning the distance. He knows he is in the Haunted House, he knows it. The guilty from his past actions is a familiar touch, now. He had hurt Thackery. That was enough to worry him for the rest of his days.
He ignores the crunch under his shoes, moving towards the warm light. A drove of Boogeyman give him directions to the student base, and he notes them.
And then moves on.
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Posted: Mon Oct 22, 2012 9:56 pm
The chimes and notes of music gently float into his ears as Ash wanders the Haunted House. It looks like Fright Night, in the few moments in passing the Pyramid Head had seen it.
He ignores the booths, for they prove to be as interesting in this place as they were to him in reality: not at all.
For a time, Ash feels like he is walking in place, on a treadmill, repeating his path over and over and over and--
The fog darkens, but very little scares him, now.
"What are you fighting for?" is rasped at him. "Is it power? Is it for them?" The figure gestures at shadows behind them, and it is...Thackery. Nahm. Aymet. Scattered, here and there.
"Would you tear away those who are seeking another path, force them into a life they do not wish to be in? I am not an unreasonable person. All I ask for is an exchange, and return of the things you have taken from me. You make your own choices; the choice is always yours to make."
Ash tightens his fists in their gloves. His legs no longer cooperate, it seems.
Of the shadows behind the figure, of his friends there, Thackery, in particular, stands out, looming in the shadows-- but he will not look at him. Perhaps he has gone beyond redemption, this time.
He closes his eyes. And he waits.
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