[Action] (backdated to the 18th)
[Since this happened, Asch hasn't been entirely sure what to do with himself. He eats breakfast, he reads a little. He wanders through the village for a while, aimlessly and calm despite the bad news. It's a normal day. A nice day, even. Luceti is blissfully aware of his loss, and he likes it that way. There is no house to burn, no alcohol to waste
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Inside the sketchbook, Luke will find a series of charcoal drawings and sketches, some smudged and unrefined, others with a surprising elegance and accuracy to them. The first several pages are difficult to recognize: the simple curve of a face, a lock of hair blown back by the wind, several pairs of eyes, varying in size, detail, and intensity. There's no colour to them, so recognition is impossible.
Further in, though, more detailed sketches begin to appear- the largest of Amaterasu's cherry blossom trees, Miyabi standing in the grass, a pair of tomcats facing off against one another. Three pages of mixed rough sketches, obviously hasty drawings of people passing by.
And then, at the end of the set, there are four portraits, with the most detail, the most skill, and the most care. Lady Fabre, seen only from the back, gazing out at the sea from an open window. Natalia, standing on a dock with the sunrise at her back, proud and tall. Guy, his head bowed slightly, like a servant on his knees, his smile content but his gaze shaded dark and conflicted, his eyes drawn so dark they're nearly black. Stella, with a steady, kind smile and honest eyes as they gaze out of the page. A symbol is sketched out beneath her shoulder line, where the portrait ends, right where her heart would be, and there's a a scrawling of Ancient Ispanian on each of the four pages, too rough to decipher.
The last page with anything on it is ruined by a scribbling of charcoal all across the page, coating everything in a fine black powder, so dark and roughly-scrawled that it tore through the center of the page and sullied the one behind it. That page has nothing more than an imprint of both image and words, but in the dim light it's hard to make out.]
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And the portraits make him pause even longer. The first one... his mother. Their mother. It's at this one that he stays the longest, and he can't help the smile coming up at the corner of his mouth, or the slight burning sensation in his eyes. He misses her. He misses her more than he thought. How's she doing? How would she feel about what all he's gone through, back at home and here in Luceti? He has so much he wants to tell her...
Thankfully, that sensation in his eyes goes away as soon as it comes up. He turns the page, glancing up to see if he still has time - good, he does.
... Natalia. Another woman he misses. Asch drew her perfectly, proud and tall as a princess should be. Heh, Natalia was always so much better at this royalty thing than Luke... And he finds that he misses her, too. Would Asch be happier, if she came back here?
Another glance, another page. Guy... all these people, close to both Luke and Asch. Guy, Luke's best friend and Asch's... errr lover. Unfortunately, it was still a little awkward for Luke to think of the latter fact. Still... Guy was the only one Luke could really open up around. He's kept a lot of things hidden because of that, and... it might sound silly, but he really misses the roughhousing.
Another glance. The next page... ah, right. Stella. The smile she's drawn with makes Luke wish he knew her better, but... she always seemed so untouchable. Asch was friends with her, close at that, and Luke didn't want to wedge himself into the middle of that with their complicated relationship. In a way, he's glad. Asch had that chance on his own, not a friend who started out as Luke's, not someone who's friends with the both of them. She was Asch's. But in a way, Luke wonders if him staying away from their relationship was the right thing to do. Now that she's gone... Asch is much quieter. And it makes Luke feels so conflicted...
He turns to the last page... and he narrows his eyes slightly. Obviously there's something in back of there, but... Luke can't tell what it is. No matter how much he squints, in this kind of light he can't see anything except the indication that there is something there.
It's with that that he closes the sketchbook and straightens, hands behind his back and looking at Asch. Hopefully his original didn't see what he was doing...]
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Just how long as he been watching Luke? Well. It's anyone's guess, really.]
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Luke's eyes widen almost comically when he realizes that Asch saw what he was doing, as if he were a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His hands tangle together behind him, and he raises his shoulders sheepishly as he looks off to the side, lips pressed together for a second.]
Sorry... I shouldn't have looked.
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[There's no real venom in his tone, only a calm, cold dismissal; in a way, that's worse than the more passionate insults he's offered in the past.]
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But instead, he sits at the other end of the table, head ducked slightly while glancing up at Asch. The food he made was chicken soup with white rice mixed in, and a few more pieces of chicken. Perhaps it's just slightly too salty, but otherwise, it's rather good. It's hard to screw up chicken soup, after all.]
I'm not just some replica... [He may be a replica, but... He's more than that. He knows it.
But the argument is quiet, as if he doesn't want this to turn into another fight. Instead, he'd rather watch to see what he thinks of the meal... and if he has anything to say about the sketches.]
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But then, it's not often that he isn't at war with something or other. It's just how it is now. Has been for years.
Enjoy the awkward silence, Luke, you'll get quite a few of them before the night is over.]
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He wants to find something to talk about... After swinging his legs a little, Luke glances at the sketchbook again before he looks up with a half smile.]
You, uh... You're really amazing at drawing! I don't think I could ever do anything like that...
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[Siiiip. The replica totally walked into that one. Asch glances down at the soup, his expression a mixture of annoyance and dismissal. Too much salt. For someone who likes sweets so much, why does he always add too much salt?]
...Regardless, you should know better. Practice helps.
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[Luke sheepishly rubs the back of his head and glances away. Did he have to bring that up again? It's not like Luke's proud of what he did or anything...]
I've been trying for forever, but I just can't get any better at it. When I do it it just looks like something a little kid would draw. Just how much practice does it take?
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