A glimpse into the past
Better really, really late than never, right? Under the cut, a glimpse at Ashwin's past, set when he's about six. For more information on his parents, see +info Ashwin, and particularly +info/1 Ashwin.
Kaylee: "So, how many fell madly in love with you and wanted to take you away from all this?"
Inara: "Just the one. I think I'm slipping."
--Serenity
Everything in the tavern is alive with activity - patrons laugh and roar and wave their hands in expansive gestures, staff scurry between tables, newcomers arrive and others depart for the night. Even the inanimate objects are dancing, the chairs pushed in and out, the tables shuddering as fists thump down, glasses lifted to lips and send sliding down the bar, the bottles on the shelves constantly lifted down and upended as measure after measure is sold.
On the balcony above this symphony a small boy sits, legs hanging through the railings, head resting against two of them. He is grave-faced, round-cheeked, his blonde hair shorn very short and his pale blue eyes wide. In stark contrast to the almost overwhelming noise below, he is perhaps the only still thing in the entire establishment. Only his eyes move, conducting a constant sweep of the three doors, halting for a moment on every new figure as it appears. A couple come tripping along the balcony behind him, hand in hand, laughing loudly, the woman pulling the man along behind her. She reaches out as they pass to knuckle the top of the boy’s head. He doesn’t acknowledge her, giving his head a shake as her hand comes away, scowling as he leans forward once more to press his head against the railings. Her client is less tolerant, aiming a kick at the boy as he passes by. This earns only a twitch of irritation, then the child resumes his surveillance of the area below.
His eyes widen suddenly, dimples appearing as a broad grin springs to life - a tall, rangy man with a shock of blonde hair has just appeared at the door. The boy shuffles forward an extra inch, hand coming up to curl around the railings in anticipation. He turns his head - now he’s watching one of the women behind the bar. She has her curls pinned up, and she’s operating with the sort of smooth efficiency that comes with experience, handing out drinks and collecting payment with both hands at once. The boy fairly wriggles, his gaze shifting from the woman to the man, and then back again, waiting for her to turn her gaze to the corner where he has found himself a seat.
He is rewarded when she stills suddenly, then smiles a smile just like his own - dimples and all. She sets down the jug she’s holding, and walks down to push out from behind the bar, pausing only long enough to untie her apron and set it down on the sticky surface before she makes her way across to the man. Up on the balcony, the boy is grinning as broadly as she when the man reaches out to pull her into his lap.
He’s allowed to enjoy the view for only a minute before a pair of hands wrap around him from behind, lifting him bodily off the ground.
“Ashwin, what are you doing up at this hour? Waiting for your Da again? He’ll be here in the morning, you wherry!” One of the girls of the establishment has him in her arms, and frog-marches him along the balcony to where a small ladder leads up to the loft. When they reach the base of it, she holds him still by grabbing hold of both ears, leaning down to plant a kiss on top of his bristly head.
“Get up there, you’ll see him tomorrow.”
A swat chases him as he runs up the ladder, and he can hear her footsteps receding as he hauls off his shoes.
Much later that night, he’s woken by a weight pressing down on the end of his bed. His eyes fly open in the darkness, his grin already starting, but he remains perfectly still. Pretending to sleep buys a few more moments. His father smells of salt, and he surreptitiously draws in a long breath through his nose, drinking in the scent. Then the sailor rises once more, bending down to rest a huge, calloused hand on the boy’s head. A moment after that, his footsteps recede once more, and the ladder creaks as he climbs down.
Ashwin lies awake in the dark, smiling to himself. His father is home.
Kaylee: "So, how many fell madly in love with you and wanted to take you away from all this?"
Inara: "Just the one. I think I'm slipping."
--Serenity
Everything in the tavern is alive with activity - patrons laugh and roar and wave their hands in expansive gestures, staff scurry between tables, newcomers arrive and others depart for the night. Even the inanimate objects are dancing, the chairs pushed in and out, the tables shuddering as fists thump down, glasses lifted to lips and send sliding down the bar, the bottles on the shelves constantly lifted down and upended as measure after measure is sold.
On the balcony above this symphony a small boy sits, legs hanging through the railings, head resting against two of them. He is grave-faced, round-cheeked, his blonde hair shorn very short and his pale blue eyes wide. In stark contrast to the almost overwhelming noise below, he is perhaps the only still thing in the entire establishment. Only his eyes move, conducting a constant sweep of the three doors, halting for a moment on every new figure as it appears. A couple come tripping along the balcony behind him, hand in hand, laughing loudly, the woman pulling the man along behind her. She reaches out as they pass to knuckle the top of the boy’s head. He doesn’t acknowledge her, giving his head a shake as her hand comes away, scowling as he leans forward once more to press his head against the railings. Her client is less tolerant, aiming a kick at the boy as he passes by. This earns only a twitch of irritation, then the child resumes his surveillance of the area below.
His eyes widen suddenly, dimples appearing as a broad grin springs to life - a tall, rangy man with a shock of blonde hair has just appeared at the door. The boy shuffles forward an extra inch, hand coming up to curl around the railings in anticipation. He turns his head - now he’s watching one of the women behind the bar. She has her curls pinned up, and she’s operating with the sort of smooth efficiency that comes with experience, handing out drinks and collecting payment with both hands at once. The boy fairly wriggles, his gaze shifting from the woman to the man, and then back again, waiting for her to turn her gaze to the corner where he has found himself a seat.
He is rewarded when she stills suddenly, then smiles a smile just like his own - dimples and all. She sets down the jug she’s holding, and walks down to push out from behind the bar, pausing only long enough to untie her apron and set it down on the sticky surface before she makes her way across to the man. Up on the balcony, the boy is grinning as broadly as she when the man reaches out to pull her into his lap.
He’s allowed to enjoy the view for only a minute before a pair of hands wrap around him from behind, lifting him bodily off the ground.
“Ashwin, what are you doing up at this hour? Waiting for your Da again? He’ll be here in the morning, you wherry!” One of the girls of the establishment has him in her arms, and frog-marches him along the balcony to where a small ladder leads up to the loft. When they reach the base of it, she holds him still by grabbing hold of both ears, leaning down to plant a kiss on top of his bristly head.
“Get up there, you’ll see him tomorrow.”
A swat chases him as he runs up the ladder, and he can hear her footsteps receding as he hauls off his shoes.
Much later that night, he’s woken by a weight pressing down on the end of his bed. His eyes fly open in the darkness, his grin already starting, but he remains perfectly still. Pretending to sleep buys a few more moments. His father smells of salt, and he surreptitiously draws in a long breath through his nose, drinking in the scent. Then the sailor rises once more, bending down to rest a huge, calloused hand on the boy’s head. A moment after that, his footsteps recede once more, and the ladder creaks as he climbs down.
Ashwin lies awake in the dark, smiling to himself. His father is home.