Beside the Lake, after dark, open to all.

[ash_imperfect]

Asher walks the edge of the darkened lake, brooding and hurt. His room - or at least his furniture, and most particularly his bed - is no more than matchsticks, the victim of rage that had overwhelmed him when Nathaniel had walked out the door. Mania past, Asher was left feeling weak, broken, and unable to think about staying in his room. The

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[fortunes_phase]

A figure, all in while now, her eyes so bright, her hair rustled by the night wind, slowly steps up beside him. Her bare feet seem to almost not touch the ground.

She's had her moment of choice, her change, and her rejections. There's much for Moon to digest, but when she chose, the tarot's sight opened once more. They could hear the calls, sense the needs, and see the choices.

Moon knows this is where she needs to be now, and here is where she is.

"The blackbird mourns in the waning moon's light this night," she murmurs, her voice as musical as ever. "And the waning moon has heard the cries and come from her perch to your side."

[ash_imperfect]

Asher looks up at her, pain melting away, Asher hiding under an expressionless mask, one he has come to rely on many times over the years. His hair hides much of his face from view, even the bright gold seeming lessened under the silvered light of the moon.

"I mourn nothing." He insists bitterly. "For it was nothing."

[fortunes_phase]

"It's useless to lie to one of us," she says softly. "For it was something. Something important. Something you already miss."

[ash_imperfect]

Asher draws an uncharacteristic, ragged breath, bowing his head.

"Yes," he whispers. "It was important to me." He laughs, bitterly. "I am a fool."

[ash_imperfect]

Asher smells the faint scent of Ganymede's cigarette, and sees the young man sitting, but he has no wish for company.

He turns his face away, tears drying, no reddened eyes or puffy skin to give away his despair. Only the faint silver shine on pale cheeks, to show that he was ever anything less than composed.

[ash_imperfect]

Asher stays still, not willing to call out. He shifts, slightly, the gold of his hair catching the moonlight, spill of it over his shoulders, hanging in front of his face.

[ostro_goth]

Teja is working late in the forge tonight, finishing a sword before going inside with a hope of finding Charlie; and now, he has come out to the lake-shore, with wooden buckets on a yoke, to fetch more water. Much water goes into fiery forge-work, if truth be known. It is a warm night, and so he has not bothered putting on his cloak over his forge apron.

When he stands again, having filled his buckets, he sees a figure sitting by the lake, golden hair shimmering in the moonlight, and broad shoulders. His heart misses a beat upon that sight.

This effect shall never become less, Teja suspects as he takes a deep breath.

[ash_imperfect]

Asher hears a familiar gait approaching the lake, watches out of the corner of his eye as Teja fills buckets to carry back to the forge. His heart twists as he watches Teja bend and lift, watches the play of muscles under skin.

He cannot bear to watch for long, turning his face away. He had thought of Milliways as a refuge, a place away from heartache, from the fear of being alone, abandoned by Anita and Jean-Claude. And yet, it seems to happen just as often here.

Part of him knows he overreacts, that he and Nathaniel were...whatever it may be that they were...for only a few days. But he has watched Nathaniel from afar ever since they met, and the loss of his companionship, so soon after Teja, has utterly destroyed what little hope he had of being loved, here.

[ostro_goth]

Teja looks at Asher, wondering whether to go near him.

But Asher had said they would speak again soon, the last time; and there is the shared worry about Jason, poisoned of his drug and unconscious at the infirmary.

Teja has not yet been to see him, leaving precedence to those that are truly close; and Asher might be among them. His present grief -- oh yes, Teja does read the way he holds his shoulders -- might be tied to it.

Perhaps he had died after all?

Teja puts down his buckets, and starts walking over.

[ash_imperfect]

Asher's mouth twists as Teja pauses, then walks towards him. He knew that Teja would not pass by without at least saying hello, but he had hoped that just this once, Teja might be too busy. It seems not.

He glances at Teja as the goth approaches, then looks out over the lake once more.

"Greetings, Teja." He murmurs when Teja is close enough, his voice flat, no trace of the musicality that normally affects people so.

[by_matchlight]

There's the small figure of a child slipping out of the treeline, a towel wrapped around her in place of a shawl.

She'd lost track of the time swimming and picking berries in the woods (and oh how delicious they were!). Hopefully she won't be scolded for staying out after dark. If she hurries, they might not even notice...

She almost doesn't see the man in black until she nearly runs into him.

"OH! I am so sorry, sir," she gasps.

[ash_imperfect]

Asher's head jerks up, so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't even heard her approach.

"No need to apologise," he mutters, turning back to the lake.

[by_matchlight]

He looks odd, but she tries not to stare. Like an angel. Only with long hair. Long, loose hair. Hmmm...he must have lost his ribbon to tie it back with.

A sudden thought sends her fishing through the pocket of her apron, and then she looks to the man. When he doesn't turn to her, she gives his coat a shy tug.

"Sir? If you lost your hair ribbon, you may have mine," she says quietly, holding out a small bit of red ribbon.

[ash_imperfect]

Asher turns to look at the small girl, arching an eyebrow at the ribbon.

"Non, merci," He mutters, looking around for the girl's parents or guardian. Finding none, he sighs, looking back down at the girl.

"Where are your parents, petit?"