It's time for Ash and Chry to have a long-deferred chat.
They're spooning on top of the blankets when Chry peeks in, Netha's arms settled around Ash's chest. His shirt and vest are on the floor nearby, but their clothing is otherwise in place enough to make an overprotective father happy. Chryseth isn't an overprotective father, just a lonely friend, and he takes the lack of apparent goings-on as an indication that it's okay to walk in and stare longingly at the two of them.
Ash raises himself up a bit on his elbow and offers Chry a friendly grin. "C'mon, kid. Plenty of room. Backrub to be had, just like last night."
A murmur of agreement from Jell and she's making room for Chry, sitting back a bit to watch him pull off his own shirt and flop down by Ash for easy backrub access. "I think I'll go get started on dinner while the two of you relax," she says.
Chry starts to squeak some sort of objection to this (leaving us alone?!) but it's curiously stifled as Ashrien rolls over to sit on Chry's thighs and leans forward to start working on his shoulders.
Jelleneth watches with a smile as Chry sighs and melts, then sneaks a kiss to Ash's shoulder before she leaves.
"Yes, magelet, leaving us alone. Don't fret, I won't steal your virtue, no matter how appealin' either of us might find the thought." Ash chuckles and goes on with the shoulder rub. He's looking for tight spots, but Chry's one long tall knot of tension, or so it seems.
"Nuh-not virtuous."
"Sure you are. Faithfulness is a virtue. Honesty, compassion, hope. S'all virtues. Though," and he pauses, hands meditatively kneading the boy's back, "I suppose faithfulness isn't somethin' that could be stolen, hm?"
"Mnh," says Chry. "I'd have to choose to g-g-give..."
He can't quite finish that, but Ash nods. "Yeah. Not like intention saves you everywhere, an' certainly one can end up doin' stuff that'll be regretted later, but. I ain't gonna try to trap you in that."
"You j-just want to help me," Chry mumbles, face buried in the quilt.
"S'right. I do. It's understandable if you don' believe me, Light knows there's people out there who say one thing -- maybe even mean it -- but do another. I do my best to not be one of 'em. If you ever think I'm in danger of fuckin' things up, I want to know."
"Mmmmkay. I just want to help you, Ash." He sounds slurred, almost sleepy, and turns his head to speak more clearly. "I do believe you. And t-trust you, more or less. But I d-d-don't deserve -- can't -- look. There's some things that c-can't be healed, okay?"
No sleepiness now, just misery and quiet defeat. Ash is quiet for a few moments, fingers still working their magic.
"Well, that's more'n one issue you raised there. One's whether or not you deserve help an' healin'. The other's whether or not it's possible. Yeah?" Ash speaks quietly, conversationally, as relaxed as Chryseth isn't.
"Yeah."
"Now, it's interestin' you don't mention a third thing some folks might if they were in your situation. It's curious to me because generally you're a fine little troubleshooter, seein' interferin' and confoundin' and I dunno what else factors better than most anyone I know."
Chry frowns and tries to sit up a bit, but the gentle allure of shoulder massage has him giving up on that almost before he's started. "I dunno. What am I stupid and m-m-missing?"
"You ain't stupid, kid. You missin' this has nothin' to do with smarts or perception, but a lot to do with one of those objections you raised. See, some people'd go on sayin' they don't need helped or healed, that everythin' is fine an' well as is. Some people say that even if they can't move half their body, or they're dyin' from drugs and drink. But you..." He lets that trail off.
"I haven't t-tried to feed you that line for a while, I g-guess." Chry swallows and shuts his eyes.
"S'right. You haven't. An' that's one of the things that'd make helpin' you hard, but that barrier isn't there. Even when it is, it's not insurmountable but it sure makes things easier."
His voice is soft and soothing, and his hands are skilled. Despite himself and despite the subject Chry lets go of some of the tight spring-coil in his muscles and spirit.
"Kid, everyone deserves help and healin'. Everyone deserves to feel comfortable in their own skin. I care about you -- Light, I love you, okay? I want to see you happy. Well. Whole. Work with me on this, and I promise we can get there. I don't make promises lightly, an' never ones I don't know I can keep."
Chry shakes with a sudden silent sob. Then another, not so silent that he quickly muffles, face buried in the bed. Ash's hands go on down his shuddering back, back up, squeezing his shoulders, saying it's okay to cry without a word.
"But you don't know," the boy finally says. "Don't know what y-y-you're promising."
"Well, it's true the darkness can hide all kinds of things. But I think I know the worst of it, an' I'm not pretendin' this is some easy quick touch-job. No, kid, I think this is somethin' to last a lifetime and I just want that to be as long an' glorious as possible." Ash leans down, pressing a quick kiss to his shoulderblade.
"You d-d-don't know the worst."
"Oh yeah? Try me then. Promise no matter what it is I'll be right here, still pettin' you, long as you want it for. Let me in, kid. Please?"
The boy shudders under him again, fingers bunching the quilt, struggling to get his breathing steady. "I've killed people," he says, forcing the words out between gasps. "And then, a-a-and then," and he can't say it, it won't come.
"An' then?" Ash says, once the stammers have stopped.
"I used them," Chry says and the words hang in the air between them. Ash pets down his back but doesn't break the silence and from somewhere the boy pulls the rest of it out. "I used them and I'm n-n-n-no better than Dar'khan."
"How d'you mean?" the paladin asks, still speaking soft and reasonable.
Chry rears up as if to dislodge him and Ash obligingly shifts to the side, but before the boy can get away he's pulled up for a tight hug. True to expectation, that's not something he can bring himself to try to escape.
"Shh, shh, it's all right," Ash soothes.
"It's n-n-n-not all right!" Chry screams, surely loud enough to be heard by anyone in the galley. He wraps his arms around Ashrien's chest and holds close, and when he tucks his head against Ash's shoulder he's getting snot and tears everywhere.
"Well, no, everything's not all right. If it was, we wouldn' be here now, hm? But kid, I'm still here. You're still here."
"Me still here, that's p-part of the problem."
"No, it's the only way things can ever get better. Runnin' away from things works sometimes, I know that damn well. But it don't always, hm? Sometimes you gotta face up to things. Find new solutions to stuff that's gone wrong."
Ash lets Chry think this over as they slowly rock back and forth on the bed. He reaches up to undo the boy's hair tie and then lets his hands go back to the careful massage, feeling out the worst of the tension.
The kid actually gives in to it with a sigh of relief.
"I'm a n-n-necromancer," he says, almost too quiet to hear, and this is followed by another sigh.
"I know. Known for a while."
"I c-c-can't give it up for keeps. I know it'd be easiest, b-but I can't." Chry looks up at him, eyes bright but unafraid.
"An' why's that if you don't mind me askin'?"
"Duty. Duty and l-l-love and I can't, I c-c-can't." Chry stops, shakes his head, hugs closer. "I have to g-go on for Jiel."
"Mmhm. An' why's that?" His hand settles on the back of Chry's neck, lightly kneading.
"G-gotta look after him. His collar, and -- and stuff. Nobody else c-can do it, Ash, and I love him so why shouldn't I?"
"Well, if it means your destruction then we look for other ways to go about him bein' cared for. So it's somethin' to consider for the long term, yeah? So, hm. For now, keepin' your friend safe is a major, ah, design goal for you, yeah? Why else d'you use it? Just to keep in practice?"
"Sorta," Chry admits. "S-s-sometimes it's useful, like for when N-Netha needs to know stuff and we can't g-g-get living naga or whatever to talk but she says she doesn't want that now. And sometimes, sometimes I have r-research I need. For maybe J-Jiel sometime." Chry rubs his cheek along Ash's bare shoulder once, twice -- stops, pulls back, mumbles an apology.
"Mmh. Well, you know, necromancy ain't all hopeless destruction an' decay. Shh, I don't say that to make excuses for anythin' you've done or will do. But it's somethin' that can be used without lettin' it take over your soul. Chryseth, you ain't corrupted."
"Yet," Chry mumbles, ears wilting against his skull. "N-not corrupted yet, m-maybe."
"An' this now is where we are, kid. Not yet an' you don't have to be. Ever. Won't claim it's a simple matter, won't pretend it'll be easy on you least of all. But the chance is there. How about we shoot for it?"
"You aren't g-gonna just tell me to leave it?" Chry asks, maybe mournful and maybe confused.
"Well, ain't gonna lie. It'd be easier to not get turned bad by it if you dropped it an' never looked back. But you don't seem to think that's an option on the table, hm? Maybe this'll change someday, an' maybe not, but right now we're here. Would you listen anyhow, if that was what I told you to do? Never touch it ever again?" Ash looks down at him and he's blinking some tears of his own away, but his voice is unaffected.
"N-nooo," Chry says, and he sags, shoulders slumping.
"Tellin' someone to do somethin' he can't or won't do an' pretendin' that solves anything's senseless. Might as well tell you to stop lovin' this Jiel of yours, or to, I dunno, never jerk off again so long as you live."
Chry blushes at that -- maybe more than he would have done for either item in isolation -- and mumbles under his breath. Ash lets him, not interrupting, not understanding a word of it.
"No, Chry, we're workin' with us here. Now. An' if that means keepin' necromancy on the table, that's what we do. Now -- am I right in thinkin' you want to keep it from takin' root in you? If you aspire to lichdom or whatever, I just need to know so we can plan things right."
The boy starts to tense up all over again, but the gentle steady pressure of Ash's fingers and palms draws it back out. "I don't w-want that," he says, and he tries to hold back his tears but can't.
"Okay." There's relief in Ash's voice he doesn't try to hide. "We can work with this, kid."
"B-b-but it's inevitable. Always, always breaks the nuh-necromancer in the end."
"Oh, Light, kid. No. No, no more'n all arcanists end up -- I dunno, crazy an' addicted to power. It's more dangerous than that, certainly, but it ain't inevitable." Ash pauses and ruffles the boy's hair, fingers delicately avoiding his eartips. "I wouldn't be sayin' this if I weren't certain it's true. Did some -- investigatin' back when I first realized what was eating you from the inside out. Forgive me for preemptive meddling?"
"Did you t-tell anyone my secret?" Chry asks, but he's pressing closer and not trying to get away.
This is, Ash supposes, a positive thing.
"Nah. My partner knows, I guess, but I didn't tell him. He's, hm, perceptive an' versed in Scourge things. Kept my secrets for years, you need have no worries 'bout him at all. Promise. Keepin' you safe is one of my priorities."
"But why, Ash? I'm nobody, I'm not w-worth it, I'm not--"
"Cut it out. I decide who's worth my time an' involvement. You are. You're somebody to me, an' to Jelleneth, an' to Alevh, an' to your Jiel. Others too, I'm sure, but those're just the first names that come to mind. You're worth the love of whoever chooses to bestow it on you. Believe that. Hold onto it. I don't think you're in danger of it goin' to your head."
The words wash over the boy and he wriggles his shoulders just a bit; Ash takes the hint and resumes the backrub.
"So how do I do it?"
"Well, for starters stop listenin' to the voice in your head that tells you you're garbage."
"No, not that, I mean -- how do I n-n-not let it rot me?"
"Hah. Well, maybe that applies here too just a bit. But from what I understand -- an' we can feel this out together, if you'll let me along -- it's a matter of not doin' wrong with it. Now, I know this ain't trivial, that it's easy to fool yourself into thinkin' you're actin' good when you're doin' anything but. Cept this goes for anything. Any sort of power, any tools, any gifts."
"But it's not the same at all," Chry protests. "I m-mean, if I, I dunno. Use guns to do bad stuff, I don't lose my soul."
"Hm. Well, maybe you don't, but even so. Kid, the rules are same. Just the stakes are higher."
Chry mulls this over, burying his face again in Ash's shoulder. "Rules are the same," he murmurs. "So if it'd be wrong to d-do with something else, it'd..."
"Be wrong to do with necromancy. Yeah. Evil is evil, the mode of delivery don't change anythin'. If Arthas had marched through Quel'thalas to Sunwell Isle an' destroyed it with, I dunno. A few well-placed bombs. It'd have still been evil. Just without the added awful of raisin' our people."
"It's n-n-not always evil," Chry says, and his voice cracks.
"Mmh. Tell me 'bout these people you killed an' brought back." It's an order, no matter how much he velvets his voice.
"Cultists. From the north. Used em for -- other r-r-research first, sort of m-medical related. Used em again after they died, tricking apart smell and taste and..." Chry shudders and Ash's arms tighten around him, reassuring and protective.
"I think you're walkin' a very grey line there. An' maybe -- maybe it's somethin' you ought not do again."
"Yeah. Yeah. I d-don't plan to, Ash, and Jiel's happy with what he's g-got now, and... m-m-maybe I can just let that part of me go back to sleep for a bit. Except it's n-not so easy as that. I'm n-not a n-normal elf. Not a Blade, not a..." He shivers, and his fingers find Ash's hair to fiddle with.
"Neither fish nor fowl. Yeah, I know what you mean. Done a lot of play-actin' and pretendin' and tryin' to fit in somewhere that was never meant for me. Never hurts less, but it does get easier. An' there's those you can be just Chry for, an' not worry about what exactly that means, right?"
"I dunno," Chry says.
"Me if you want? Your Jiel? Netha? I could be wrong, I s'pose. But I don't think there's any part of you that'd horrify me."
"You're l-l-lucky I was talking to dead things the other day," Chry mumbles. "Or else right n-now I'd be -- uh."
"Kiddo, I think we'd manage somehow. Without anyone's faithfulness or virtue bein' in danger. We'll be okay. Don't turn to necromancy jus' to get away from your own body, hm?"
Chry stammers and his blush spreads from his ears to his neck, and his face is hot against Ash's shoulder. Before he can get his thoughts and tongue together enough to offer a coherent response, there's a quiet knock on the door and he startles. Ash doesn't let him bolt, doesn't even let him up.
"Shh, it's just Netha. S'okay."
And it is, Netha with bowls of stew and a plate of bread and a pitcher of juice. Dinner and salvation from temporary embarrassment.
Yes, he can be just Chry, and for tonight he is.
Ash raises himself up a bit on his elbow and offers Chry a friendly grin. "C'mon, kid. Plenty of room. Backrub to be had, just like last night."
A murmur of agreement from Jell and she's making room for Chry, sitting back a bit to watch him pull off his own shirt and flop down by Ash for easy backrub access. "I think I'll go get started on dinner while the two of you relax," she says.
Chry starts to squeak some sort of objection to this (leaving us alone?!) but it's curiously stifled as Ashrien rolls over to sit on Chry's thighs and leans forward to start working on his shoulders.
Jelleneth watches with a smile as Chry sighs and melts, then sneaks a kiss to Ash's shoulder before she leaves.
"Yes, magelet, leaving us alone. Don't fret, I won't steal your virtue, no matter how appealin' either of us might find the thought." Ash chuckles and goes on with the shoulder rub. He's looking for tight spots, but Chry's one long tall knot of tension, or so it seems.
"Nuh-not virtuous."
"Sure you are. Faithfulness is a virtue. Honesty, compassion, hope. S'all virtues. Though," and he pauses, hands meditatively kneading the boy's back, "I suppose faithfulness isn't somethin' that could be stolen, hm?"
"Mnh," says Chry. "I'd have to choose to g-g-give..."
He can't quite finish that, but Ash nods. "Yeah. Not like intention saves you everywhere, an' certainly one can end up doin' stuff that'll be regretted later, but. I ain't gonna try to trap you in that."
"You j-just want to help me," Chry mumbles, face buried in the quilt.
"S'right. I do. It's understandable if you don' believe me, Light knows there's people out there who say one thing -- maybe even mean it -- but do another. I do my best to not be one of 'em. If you ever think I'm in danger of fuckin' things up, I want to know."
"Mmmmkay. I just want to help you, Ash." He sounds slurred, almost sleepy, and turns his head to speak more clearly. "I do believe you. And t-trust you, more or less. But I d-d-don't deserve -- can't -- look. There's some things that c-can't be healed, okay?"
No sleepiness now, just misery and quiet defeat. Ash is quiet for a few moments, fingers still working their magic.
"Well, that's more'n one issue you raised there. One's whether or not you deserve help an' healin'. The other's whether or not it's possible. Yeah?" Ash speaks quietly, conversationally, as relaxed as Chryseth isn't.
"Yeah."
"Now, it's interestin' you don't mention a third thing some folks might if they were in your situation. It's curious to me because generally you're a fine little troubleshooter, seein' interferin' and confoundin' and I dunno what else factors better than most anyone I know."
Chry frowns and tries to sit up a bit, but the gentle allure of shoulder massage has him giving up on that almost before he's started. "I dunno. What am I stupid and m-m-missing?"
"You ain't stupid, kid. You missin' this has nothin' to do with smarts or perception, but a lot to do with one of those objections you raised. See, some people'd go on sayin' they don't need helped or healed, that everythin' is fine an' well as is. Some people say that even if they can't move half their body, or they're dyin' from drugs and drink. But you..." He lets that trail off.
"I haven't t-tried to feed you that line for a while, I g-guess." Chry swallows and shuts his eyes.
"S'right. You haven't. An' that's one of the things that'd make helpin' you hard, but that barrier isn't there. Even when it is, it's not insurmountable but it sure makes things easier."
His voice is soft and soothing, and his hands are skilled. Despite himself and despite the subject Chry lets go of some of the tight spring-coil in his muscles and spirit.
"Kid, everyone deserves help and healin'. Everyone deserves to feel comfortable in their own skin. I care about you -- Light, I love you, okay? I want to see you happy. Well. Whole. Work with me on this, and I promise we can get there. I don't make promises lightly, an' never ones I don't know I can keep."
Chry shakes with a sudden silent sob. Then another, not so silent that he quickly muffles, face buried in the bed. Ash's hands go on down his shuddering back, back up, squeezing his shoulders, saying it's okay to cry without a word.
"But you don't know," the boy finally says. "Don't know what y-y-you're promising."
"Well, it's true the darkness can hide all kinds of things. But I think I know the worst of it, an' I'm not pretendin' this is some easy quick touch-job. No, kid, I think this is somethin' to last a lifetime and I just want that to be as long an' glorious as possible." Ash leans down, pressing a quick kiss to his shoulderblade.
"You d-d-don't know the worst."
"Oh yeah? Try me then. Promise no matter what it is I'll be right here, still pettin' you, long as you want it for. Let me in, kid. Please?"
The boy shudders under him again, fingers bunching the quilt, struggling to get his breathing steady. "I've killed people," he says, forcing the words out between gasps. "And then, a-a-and then," and he can't say it, it won't come.
"An' then?" Ash says, once the stammers have stopped.
"I used them," Chry says and the words hang in the air between them. Ash pets down his back but doesn't break the silence and from somewhere the boy pulls the rest of it out. "I used them and I'm n-n-n-no better than Dar'khan."
"How d'you mean?" the paladin asks, still speaking soft and reasonable.
Chry rears up as if to dislodge him and Ash obligingly shifts to the side, but before the boy can get away he's pulled up for a tight hug. True to expectation, that's not something he can bring himself to try to escape.
"Shh, shh, it's all right," Ash soothes.
"It's n-n-n-not all right!" Chry screams, surely loud enough to be heard by anyone in the galley. He wraps his arms around Ashrien's chest and holds close, and when he tucks his head against Ash's shoulder he's getting snot and tears everywhere.
"Well, no, everything's not all right. If it was, we wouldn' be here now, hm? But kid, I'm still here. You're still here."
"Me still here, that's p-part of the problem."
"No, it's the only way things can ever get better. Runnin' away from things works sometimes, I know that damn well. But it don't always, hm? Sometimes you gotta face up to things. Find new solutions to stuff that's gone wrong."
Ash lets Chry think this over as they slowly rock back and forth on the bed. He reaches up to undo the boy's hair tie and then lets his hands go back to the careful massage, feeling out the worst of the tension.
The kid actually gives in to it with a sigh of relief.
"I'm a n-n-necromancer," he says, almost too quiet to hear, and this is followed by another sigh.
"I know. Known for a while."
"I c-c-can't give it up for keeps. I know it'd be easiest, b-but I can't." Chry looks up at him, eyes bright but unafraid.
"An' why's that if you don't mind me askin'?"
"Duty. Duty and l-l-love and I can't, I c-c-can't." Chry stops, shakes his head, hugs closer. "I have to g-go on for Jiel."
"Mmhm. An' why's that?" His hand settles on the back of Chry's neck, lightly kneading.
"G-gotta look after him. His collar, and -- and stuff. Nobody else c-can do it, Ash, and I love him so why shouldn't I?"
"Well, if it means your destruction then we look for other ways to go about him bein' cared for. So it's somethin' to consider for the long term, yeah? So, hm. For now, keepin' your friend safe is a major, ah, design goal for you, yeah? Why else d'you use it? Just to keep in practice?"
"Sorta," Chry admits. "S-s-sometimes it's useful, like for when N-Netha needs to know stuff and we can't g-g-get living naga or whatever to talk but she says she doesn't want that now. And sometimes, sometimes I have r-research I need. For maybe J-Jiel sometime." Chry rubs his cheek along Ash's bare shoulder once, twice -- stops, pulls back, mumbles an apology.
"Mmh. Well, you know, necromancy ain't all hopeless destruction an' decay. Shh, I don't say that to make excuses for anythin' you've done or will do. But it's somethin' that can be used without lettin' it take over your soul. Chryseth, you ain't corrupted."
"Yet," Chry mumbles, ears wilting against his skull. "N-not corrupted yet, m-maybe."
"An' this now is where we are, kid. Not yet an' you don't have to be. Ever. Won't claim it's a simple matter, won't pretend it'll be easy on you least of all. But the chance is there. How about we shoot for it?"
"You aren't g-gonna just tell me to leave it?" Chry asks, maybe mournful and maybe confused.
"Well, ain't gonna lie. It'd be easier to not get turned bad by it if you dropped it an' never looked back. But you don't seem to think that's an option on the table, hm? Maybe this'll change someday, an' maybe not, but right now we're here. Would you listen anyhow, if that was what I told you to do? Never touch it ever again?" Ash looks down at him and he's blinking some tears of his own away, but his voice is unaffected.
"N-nooo," Chry says, and he sags, shoulders slumping.
"Tellin' someone to do somethin' he can't or won't do an' pretendin' that solves anything's senseless. Might as well tell you to stop lovin' this Jiel of yours, or to, I dunno, never jerk off again so long as you live."
Chry blushes at that -- maybe more than he would have done for either item in isolation -- and mumbles under his breath. Ash lets him, not interrupting, not understanding a word of it.
"No, Chry, we're workin' with us here. Now. An' if that means keepin' necromancy on the table, that's what we do. Now -- am I right in thinkin' you want to keep it from takin' root in you? If you aspire to lichdom or whatever, I just need to know so we can plan things right."
The boy starts to tense up all over again, but the gentle steady pressure of Ash's fingers and palms draws it back out. "I don't w-want that," he says, and he tries to hold back his tears but can't.
"Okay." There's relief in Ash's voice he doesn't try to hide. "We can work with this, kid."
"B-b-but it's inevitable. Always, always breaks the nuh-necromancer in the end."
"Oh, Light, kid. No. No, no more'n all arcanists end up -- I dunno, crazy an' addicted to power. It's more dangerous than that, certainly, but it ain't inevitable." Ash pauses and ruffles the boy's hair, fingers delicately avoiding his eartips. "I wouldn't be sayin' this if I weren't certain it's true. Did some -- investigatin' back when I first realized what was eating you from the inside out. Forgive me for preemptive meddling?"
"Did you t-tell anyone my secret?" Chry asks, but he's pressing closer and not trying to get away.
This is, Ash supposes, a positive thing.
"Nah. My partner knows, I guess, but I didn't tell him. He's, hm, perceptive an' versed in Scourge things. Kept my secrets for years, you need have no worries 'bout him at all. Promise. Keepin' you safe is one of my priorities."
"But why, Ash? I'm nobody, I'm not w-worth it, I'm not--"
"Cut it out. I decide who's worth my time an' involvement. You are. You're somebody to me, an' to Jelleneth, an' to Alevh, an' to your Jiel. Others too, I'm sure, but those're just the first names that come to mind. You're worth the love of whoever chooses to bestow it on you. Believe that. Hold onto it. I don't think you're in danger of it goin' to your head."
The words wash over the boy and he wriggles his shoulders just a bit; Ash takes the hint and resumes the backrub.
"So how do I do it?"
"Well, for starters stop listenin' to the voice in your head that tells you you're garbage."
"No, not that, I mean -- how do I n-n-not let it rot me?"
"Hah. Well, maybe that applies here too just a bit. But from what I understand -- an' we can feel this out together, if you'll let me along -- it's a matter of not doin' wrong with it. Now, I know this ain't trivial, that it's easy to fool yourself into thinkin' you're actin' good when you're doin' anything but. Cept this goes for anything. Any sort of power, any tools, any gifts."
"But it's not the same at all," Chry protests. "I m-mean, if I, I dunno. Use guns to do bad stuff, I don't lose my soul."
"Hm. Well, maybe you don't, but even so. Kid, the rules are same. Just the stakes are higher."
Chry mulls this over, burying his face again in Ash's shoulder. "Rules are the same," he murmurs. "So if it'd be wrong to d-do with something else, it'd..."
"Be wrong to do with necromancy. Yeah. Evil is evil, the mode of delivery don't change anythin'. If Arthas had marched through Quel'thalas to Sunwell Isle an' destroyed it with, I dunno. A few well-placed bombs. It'd have still been evil. Just without the added awful of raisin' our people."
"It's n-n-not always evil," Chry says, and his voice cracks.
"Mmh. Tell me 'bout these people you killed an' brought back." It's an order, no matter how much he velvets his voice.
"Cultists. From the north. Used em for -- other r-r-research first, sort of m-medical related. Used em again after they died, tricking apart smell and taste and..." Chry shudders and Ash's arms tighten around him, reassuring and protective.
"I think you're walkin' a very grey line there. An' maybe -- maybe it's somethin' you ought not do again."
"Yeah. Yeah. I d-don't plan to, Ash, and Jiel's happy with what he's g-got now, and... m-m-maybe I can just let that part of me go back to sleep for a bit. Except it's n-not so easy as that. I'm n-not a n-normal elf. Not a Blade, not a..." He shivers, and his fingers find Ash's hair to fiddle with.
"Neither fish nor fowl. Yeah, I know what you mean. Done a lot of play-actin' and pretendin' and tryin' to fit in somewhere that was never meant for me. Never hurts less, but it does get easier. An' there's those you can be just Chry for, an' not worry about what exactly that means, right?"
"I dunno," Chry says.
"Me if you want? Your Jiel? Netha? I could be wrong, I s'pose. But I don't think there's any part of you that'd horrify me."
"You're l-l-lucky I was talking to dead things the other day," Chry mumbles. "Or else right n-now I'd be -- uh."
"Kiddo, I think we'd manage somehow. Without anyone's faithfulness or virtue bein' in danger. We'll be okay. Don't turn to necromancy jus' to get away from your own body, hm?"
Chry stammers and his blush spreads from his ears to his neck, and his face is hot against Ash's shoulder. Before he can get his thoughts and tongue together enough to offer a coherent response, there's a quiet knock on the door and he startles. Ash doesn't let him bolt, doesn't even let him up.
"Shh, it's just Netha. S'okay."
And it is, Netha with bowls of stew and a plate of bread and a pitcher of juice. Dinner and salvation from temporary embarrassment.
Yes, he can be just Chry, and for tonight he is.