Chapter Text
Every day I've got a smile where my frown goes
A couple bodies in the garden where the grass grows
I take 'em with me to the grave in a suitcase
Maybe I could be a different human in a new place
Oh, I just wanna feel something, tell me where to go
'Cause everybody knows something I don't wanna know
So I'll stay right here 'cause I'm better all alone
Yeah, I'm better all alone
I am not a woman, I'm a God
I am not a martyr, I'm a problem
I am not a legend, I'm a fraud
So keep your heart, 'cause I already got one
- I am Not a Woman, I’m a God
---
It began how it would end: with a flash of light, an explosion, and the clattering of scattered, shattered pieces of stone on too-solid ground.
And pain. So much pain.
When Ashton woke, after that first death, the pain was nearly the only thing they could manage to process. The pain, and the fact that everyone else was gone.
They were alone.
That was the first time they heard it. Not a real voice, certainly; a creation of their own fractured mind. Their own voice screaming back at them, silently. But they felt it in their mind and soul nonetheless:
You did this.
You cared for them. You trusted them. You let them into your life and you loved them and then you made one little mistake. And they all left you to die.
But let’s be real…you deserved it.
You did this to yourself.
As Ashton opened their eyes and tried hard to breathe through the pain, think through the haze, there was only one thought they could manage to grasp onto with their aching, sparkling newly-crystalized mind:
Never again.
For eight years, he listened. For eight years, he built a wall up around his heart, stone by stone, until nothing and no one could even dream of passing through it.
And for eight years, it worked perfectly well for him.
---
It was supposed to be just another job.
The Rayia family had a fuck-ton of money, a mine near Evishi with a monster problem, and a missing company of adventurers out of Bassuras. Ashton had next to no money, skill with a hammer, and time to kill. Match made in the heavens.
The so-called “Division of Public Benefit” (a hell of a name, Ashton thought — either facetious or entirely too sanctimonious for his taste) had already been missing for a week by the time Ashton arrived at the mine to search for them. He wasn’t sure if the Rayias were genuinely concerned or just wanted their investment back, but it didn’t matter so much to Ashton — he just wanted to get the job done and get paid.
Until he turned the corner and laid eyes on the absolute bloodbath in front of him, and the single, blood-spattered golden automaton standing blankly among the carnage.
It was so still and silent that at first Ashton didn’t even realize it was any more alive than any of the bodies around them. But as Ashton approached with a shake of his head, mentally counting the bodies (and body parts) to try to determine if the Division might have any surviving members hiding nearby, the automaton whirred to life.
“Stay back!” it said, whirling backwards on its one wheel, holding an arm out between itself and Ashton - though it appeared entirely unarmed. It bumped backwards against a lone detached arm and rolled to a stop, electronic eyes blinking widely.
Ashton set his hammer on the ground and held out his hands to show they were empty, approaching cautiously. As soon as they reached the automaton, they got down on both knees and squinted into its face.
“S…smiley day to ya…” it stuttered, but it made no move to escape.
“...huh,” Ashton said, looking it up and down. “Never met an automaton who bothered to greet me before.”
“Well, that’s awfully rude of them, isn’t it?”
Ashton frowned…then cocked an eyebrow appraisingly. “Someone must have paid a fuck-ton of money for you. I bet they’re really fucking anxious to get you back.”
“I d..don’t know what Dancer paid for me, but I don’t think she’ll be wanting me back.”
“Why not?”
The automaton pointed…to one of the torn up bodies. “Because th…that’s Dancer.”
Ashton let out a low whistle and stood. “I…see. Well then.” He looked around, properly taking in the bloodbath for the first time. Living bodies and automatons alike had been torn to shreds, scraps and gore everywhere. Nothing in the area remained unscathed.
Except…for the little gold automaton. Oh, it — no, they — were covered in blood, and had a set of…scrapes? Decoration? A bloody handprint?...across their chest, but compared to every other body around them, they were entirely unmarred. Ashton did the math in his mind, and he didn’t like it.
“What exactly happened here, little buddy? You know?”
“Fresh Cut Grass,” they said.
“....what?”
“That’s my name. Fresh Cut Grass. Dancer named all of us after her favorite smells.”
“...of course she did.” Ashton scratched the back of his neck. “So…Fresh Cut Grass. You know what happened here?”
“No. I went to s-s-stasis mode. And when I woke up everyone…m-monster…one eye…D-d-dancer…mines! Gotta clear the mines!”
“Okay, okay,” Ashton said, kneeling in front of Fresh Cut Grass…gods that name was a mouthful. FCG…Letters. He’d go with Letters. “Tell you what, let’s not think about it too much, okay? I checked out the area, and I didn’t see anything, so I think we’re safe for now.”
“Right. Safe.” Letters looked around again, then squeezed their eyes shut. “I’m…I’m the only one left, aren’t I?”
‘Leave him, he’s already dead!’
Something in Ashton’s mind cracked, skipped like a rock on water, and sank. Darkness. Retreating footsteps. Pieces of stone. Alone alone alone
This isn’t any of your fucking business. Turn him off, take him back to the Rayias. I’m sure they’ll pay well. There’s no need to get involved in something that’s got nothing to do with you.
No. I woke up alone. But this little one…they don’t have to.
Somewhere hidden away in Ashton’s mind, the wall built up so skillfully and solidly around his heart shuddered. A single stone fell away, leaving behind the smallest of holes in the defenses.
Ashton reached out and put a hand on Letters’ metal shoulder. “Why don’t you come back to Jrusar with me? I’ve got someone who can take a look at you, make sure you’re in good shape.”
“Well…I wouldn’t want to impose. But if you really don’t mind.”
Ashton smiled and patted Letters’ back, and they returned to Jrusar together.
When Milo had a chance to give FCG a tune up, they’d asked what Ashton planned to do with him.
“I dunno,” Ashton said. “I was thinking maybe they could stick with me for a little bit.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
Ashton chuckled. “Guess not. Maybe I’m just trying something new. Just until they can get back on their feet.”
Milo is right. This isn’t like you. And for good reason. This is a bad fucking move.
Three months down the road, Letters had become Ashton’s constant companion. And despite their occasional grumbles to the contrary, Ashton had to admit…they wouldn’t have it any other way.
---
Ashton didn’t see the living furniture attack coming. Then again, who in their right fucking mind would have?
The others who all got caught up in the fighting too, though — Ashton didn’t see them coming, either.
Who the fuck are these weirdos? he’d thought, as he reluctantly set aside his fresh mug of beer and grabbed his hammer, jumping weapon-first into the fight with a swing at an animated rug that was trying to tackle a faun, motioning for Letters to join in.
Well, at least they can fucking fight, as a human struck a broom with some purple lightning and a halfling dove through the air in a half-arc and cut it clean through with a sword.
Not what I thought I’d be doing today, but honestly this is pretty fucking fun, as a blue man freed the faun from the rug, she swung a whip at a table, a lady that appeared at least half-dead wrapped a chair in some shadows, somehow, and an old man with a rapier cheered them on with bizarre sincerity from the sidelines.
And as Ashton took a gravity-swing at that last remaining table, rendering it into splinters, leaving them all a chance to gather amid the carnage and stare at each other in shared bewilderment:
Hot damn, look at that faun.
They were all utterly fascinating, but she…she was something else.
Ashton finally tore his eyes away from her when the older man — Bertrand — approached them all, impressed by their show of strength and cooperation, and offered them work.
Ashton needed work. But Bertrand Bell seemed…like a bag of hot air, honestly. And he was staring at Ashton’s crystal head with mild horror.
“Is, ah, is he all right? I think he may need some healing—”
“Oh, they’re fine. They’re like that all the time,” Letters assured them all, when everyone looked over.
The faun was looking especially closely. Ashton smirked at her.
“Some people stare inside and see hell itself. You’re free to look if you want. It’ll cost you a gold, though.”
“Yes, please,” she said, actually fishing out a gold piece and handing it to him. He chuckled and accepted it, then waited until her full attention was on the crystalline skull piece, taking the opportunity to really take her in. Lovely seafoam curls, healthy curves, soft skin, absolutely stunning green eyes—
Okay, that’s enough. Time to back away before you do something truly stupid.
—and an ostentatious golden earring nearly two feet long dragging from one ear.
Oh that does NOT belong. He grinned. She just became so much more intriguing. At least, if he was reading her right. It took skill to nab something that egregiously obvious.
As she muttered something about ‘not seeing hell’ under her breath, he reached out with a flick of the wrist and unhooked the earring, slipping it behind his back.
“Oh, you know,” he said, as she pulled back, looking disappointed, “it’s heaven to some, hell to others.”
They waited for her to notice…but she didn’t. Wondering if perhaps they’d misjudged her skills, they waited until she’d turned to the halfling and the blue bard and slung the earring around their waist like the world’s most ridiculous belt.
She’ll notice eventually. She has to.
‘Eventually’? Don’t tell me you’re planning on sticking around these people. Danger’s passed. It’s time to move on. You don’t work well with others.
“So,” Bertrand piped up once more. “How do we all feel about that job, hmm? There will be money involved, of course.”
“I’m in!” Ashton piped up, without even looking to Letters for confirmation.
Somewhere in Ashton’s mind, another stone slipped off that mental wall, shattering as it hit the ground.
You absolute fucking moron.
I need money, okay? That’s all this is. It’s just a fucking job.
---
“Are you okay if one of them lied to us a little bit?”
The little group of misfits had gathered with Ashton and Letters at the nearby Spire by Fire to discuss Bertrand’s offer, and determined they would stick together, at least for the duration of the job. After some time, though, the party had largely disbanded, milling about the Spire’s bar in small groups and enjoying their evenings after an admittedly wild day.
So when Letters had rolled up with that particular comment, Ashton couldn’t help but be a little bit surprised. Actively in the middle of a card game with the bouncer and a few other patrons, he lowered his hand of cards face-down to the table to give Letters his full attention, drawing a grumble from one of the other players.
“Honestly?” he said, with a smirk. “If one of them’s lying, I like them a little better.” Way to keep things fucking interesting around here, at least.
“All right,” Letters said, sounding a touch hesitant, but shrugging. “I just wanted you to be aware.”
“I really appreciate that. I mean, clearly, we’ve got to know.” He waved the issue off with one hand and picked up his cards. “I trust you.” Watching the other players through the next round, he considered his hand, then placed a ten down on the table. “So how do you feel about this group?” he asked casually.
“Oh, I’m really interested in digging in with them and seeing what they’ve got going on,” Letters said, voice picking up with a clear hint of excitement.
Ashton chuckled as the pachydan next to them placed a queen on the table and pushed a few more coins into the center. Fuck; he’d have to focus or he’d lose this round. Again. “This is why we’re friends,” he said to Letters. “I can’t wait to see what sort of shit you uncover.”
It wasn’t a dismissal, exactly, but FCG had spent enough time around Ashton by that point to recognize when their focus was elsewhere. He wheeled away — after telling the pachydan quite loudly that his hand was terrible — and left Ashton to their cards.
The gambling table was where Ashton’s focus remained for the rest of the evening, but after losing a not-insignificant amount of gold, he finally stood and made his way over to the bar to grab a final drink to bring back to their room. Letters wheeled up beside them, and trailing just behind him — Fearne.
Ashton figured she was approaching the bar for the same reason he had, and slid over where he stood by a step to make room for her to make her order, but she merely leaned on the bar with one arm long enough to say, “Well, I’m going to bed. Good night.”
She smiled at Ashton, lingering a bit longer than he would have expected, as if watching him for something. Or evaluating him, perhaps, given the way she let her eyes slide up and down his form. They seemed to catch on something for a second, before returning to meet his eyes.
Fuck, those eyes were dangerous. Too easy to get lost in them.
“Good night,” he eventually managed to wrest out, shaking his head to clear it.
“Sleep tight, you two,” she said, though her attention never left Ashton in particular until she finally turned to go.
“I don’t sleep!” Letters piped up, but Dorian the bard had already appeared from nowhere to engage with Fearne and had her full attention.
“I’ll come with you! Er, not, with-you, with-you,” the bard stammered. “I’ll go to my room of course.”
“Sure, sure,” Fearne said, clearly unbothered, merely laughing and taking off up stairs with Dorian just behind.
A slight annoyance began to prick at Ashton’s mind from nowhere; he brushed off the sensation aggressively with an eye-roll and a chuckle. “Well that was fucking awkward,” he said to Letters as he accepted his final drink of the night from the bartender and sipped, sliding a few coins across the bar and then tossing a copper to FCG to munch on.
“I think it’s cute. They seem super comfortable together, those three!” They looked up off the stairs almost wistfully. “It’d be pretty great to have a whole group of good friends like that, don’t you think?”
Absolutely the fuck not.
Doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fucking fun in the meantime, Ashton reasoned. But they narrowed their eyes at Letters intently.
“Suppose it wouldn’t be the worst thing,” they placated. “They’re growing on you, though, huh? You were kinda with them all night.”
“Oh yeah. They’re pretty fun!” Letters said.
Fuck. I’m actually going to have to pay attention to them all now, aren’t I? Can’t let him run off and get himself into fucking trouble with gods-know-who.
As if you weren’t already giving them your full attention?
“You know, the faun was actually trying to help you cheat on your card game,” Letters continued, oblivious. “Fearne, wasn’t it? You weren’t watching, though, so it wasn’t very effective.”
“Was she now?” Ashton cocked an eyebrow.
“Sure was. She was also staring really hard at that weird shiny belt of yours a minute ago. Where did you get that, anyway? Is it new?”
Ashton waved him off. “Something like that. You said she noticed it, though?”
“Sure did.”
So she did clock it. Excellent. Ashton grinned. This was gonna be fun.
“You know what, Letters? I think I might like them, too. Full of surprises, this group.” He considered. “So which one of them was lying earlier? The faun, right?”
“No, the really clean one she just left with.”
“Really?” Now that was unexpected. Ashton looked around; it seemed the pair in question had already disappeared upstairs. He stood. “Hang tight here for a sec, okay Letters? I just gotta go check something.”
Without waiting for an answer, Ashton took off up the stairs, hoping he wasn’t too late to catch them. Thankfully, he spotted Fearne and Dorian midway down the hall, saying goodnight. Ashton approached.
“Hey, Calloway. Mind if I talk to your friend here alone for a minute?”
Fearne looked back and forth between Ashton and Dorian several times, but when Dorian shrugged, she returned the gesture. “Sure, I don’t see why not. I’ll just be over there when you’re done,” she said, pointing over her shoulder down the hall.
With one last quizzical glance at Ashton, she took off, going only as far down the hallway as was necessary to be out of hearing range. In fact, Ashton wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t be able to overhear, but he didn’t particularly care; he just wanted to catch Dorian without his emotional-support faun present. More likely to get honesty, that way.
Ashton smirked, suddenly moving forward to back Dorian against the wall, leaning their arm next to Dorian’s head and getting very much up in his space. Dorian had several inches on Ashton, but somehow the way Ashton bore in on him, and the way he shrunk back in response, made it feel very much like Dorian was the shorter of the two.
Dorian’s eyes went wide.
“C…can I help you? Ashton, right?”
“That’s me,” Ashton said with a grin and a glint in his eye he hoped landed somewhere between playful and threatening. “And yeah, I think you can. See, my little automaton friend, Fresh Cut Grass?”
Dorian nodded, and gulped.
“Well, they’re a perceptive little fucker sometimes. And they told me just now that you were lying earlier, when you said you and your little group were just here sightseeing. And I have no reason not to believe them. Now, Letters seems to have taken a liking to you all, and I’m fine with that. They could probably use a few new friends. But I don’t like when people fuck with my friends, right?”
Dorian nodded again. A single bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. “That…that would be bad, yeah.”
Ashton had to suppress another chuckle. This was too much fun.
“Yeah. So before I decide to let them take up with you all, I gotta know: why did you lie to us?”
Dorian blinked — but something shifted in his face, almost imperceptibly at first, but then with increasing certainty. A move from nervousness to conviction.
“That’s not something I can tell you, Ashton, although I appreciate why you’re asking. I can promise you it’s nothing nefarious though.”
Ashton cocked an eyebrow. “That so? In that case, why can’t you just tell me?”
“Because it’s not my story to tell.”
Ashton actually took a step back at that, crossing their arms and regarding Dorian with a new look of appraisal.
Loyalty, eh? Well, fuck. I guess I can respect that.
The longer Ashton looked at him without speaking, the more the nerves crept back into Dorian’s expression. Ashton figured they ought to put him out of his misery.
“Fair enough.”
“Are…are we cool, then?”
“For now.” Ashton glanced down the hall, and found that Fearne was regarding them both very carefully. As soon as he caught her eye though, she looked away, pretending she hadn’t been watching. Ashton snickered and turned their attention back to Dorian. “You know, you lot are just fascinating.”
“I could say the same about you,” Dorian agreed. He finally straightened to his full height and took a step away from the wall, dusting off the shoulders of his already-immaculate cape and laughing nervously. “You know what’s funny? I almost thought you were going to try to kiss me there for a minute!”
Ashton leaned back and made no small display of looking Dorian over head to toe, considering.
“Well…not this time.”
Ashton smirked as Dorian’s cheeks darkened, and glanced back over toward Fearne, who was not quick enough to look away this time. Ashton winked at her, then with one last joking leer at Dorian, turned to leave.
As he strode away down the hall back toward the bar, he heard Fearne return to Dorian. “Were they just flirting with you?” she pressed, in no particularly quiet voice.
“I…I honestly have no idea,” Dorian stuttered back.
Ashton chuckled. He could practically feel their stares following him as he left.
Somewhere deep in their mind, another singular stone fell away from that mental wall between Ashton and the world, clattering to the ground.
Gods, some people were just so much fun to fuck with. And Ashton had to admit, it felt nice to have someone’s attention for a moment, even if it was just because they’d been caught off guard. It had been awhile. A long while. And he supposed Dorian wasn’t particularly bad-looking either.
He’s not the one you just put on that little show for.
Show? I was just fucking with him.
You’re walking a very, very fine line here, Greymoore. Sooner or later, you’re going to trip and fall.
---
“You seem like you’re in a pretty good mood this morning,” Letters said, two days later as they waited at the Vertical Gardens, where they’d agreed to meet the others. Ashton carried breakfast — not just for themself, but for the entire group. Letters nodded at the package. “That’s awfully generous of you.”
“Yeah, well, I figure I owe Bertrand a little,” they said with a laugh. “I kinda bled him for all he was worth the other night. Mostly just because it was fucking funny. Figure the least I could do is buy him breakfast.”
“Well, that’s mighty kind of you,” Letters said. “But what about the rest of them?”
“I don’t know,” he said, with a shrug. “I guess I just…felt like being nice, is all.”
You like them. You’re getting attached.
It’s disgusting. And dangerous.
There’s still time to walk away, you know.
“Well, I think kindness looks good on you,” Letters said with a smile.
“If you ever say anything like that about me again I’ll punt you into a crowd,” Ashton said cheerfully, as they finally spotted the others approaching. Ashton waved them over.
“Good, you’re awake! I’ve got breakfast for everyone. Good morning!”
“Bertrand’s dead,” Laudna said.
Ashton stared.
In short order, it became clear that whoever had attacked the group the day prior while they were carrying out Eshteross’s mission was the same person who had stabbed Bertrand to death overnight.
Overnight, while Ashton had been away from the others, staying at the Krook House. Too far away to make a difference.
Ashton hadn’t known Bell particularly well. They’d only met two fucking days ago, and honestly, Bell had been positively ridiculous for 95% of that time.
But he was part of Ashton’s crew, even if that crew was only together for one job. Nobody fucked with Ashton’s crew.
Ashton looked to the others. “Did anyone else consider this might mean we’re all on somebody’s kill list now?”
They all stared back.
This was only supposed to be one job. But as they broke into a debate over what to do next — Dorian biting his lip, Orym strategizing, Fearne wringing her hands — Ashton knew there was no way he’d be able to walk away from any of them.
Not until he knew they were safe.
Another stone crumbled from the wall inside Ashton, as the voice sneered back at him:
One down already, and you’re digging in deeper? I told you to walk the fuck AWAY.
I will, I will. Just as soon as they’re safe.
---
The search for Bertrand’s murderer led them, of all places, to the Hubbat Corsairs. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Corsairs insisted upon collateral before they were willing to divulge any useful information: names of the group’s loved ones, just in case the Corsairs should be betrayed.
This might not have been a problem, except that it seemed most of the other members of this odd little troupe were in the same boat as Ashton: they didn’t really have anyone they cared about enough to qualify.
At least, no one that wasn’t already a member of the group.
Which gave Ashton an idea.
In the end, Ashton and Imogen were the only two who gave up names, but that was enough to win the Corsairs over — for the moment — and get them the information they needed to locate Bertrand’s killer.
Ashton considered that a success, but as they walked away from the building, Imogen sidled up next to him, speaking low enough that the others wouldn’t overhear them chatting.
“I can’t believe you were willing to give up Letters as collateral!”
Ashton laughed. “Oh, I wasn’t. Anybody who wants to lay a finger on that ridiculous little ray of sunshine can eat my fucking hammer.”
“Then why’d you—”
“I said ‘Fresh Cut Grass lives at the Krook House’. Which was true. But it sure isn’t lately. Plus, I never pointed out that Letters there was ‘Fresh Cut Grass’. They’re safe.” Ashton grinned. “Besides, you saw — they appreciated it. Not sure they thought I actually liked them before I said that.”
“...you’re more clever than I gave you credit for.”
“Not clever,” Ashton said, shaking his head. “Crafty. Comes with the territory of being a career criminal, really. Always gotta be on the lookout for loopholes.” He regarded her. “But now you’ve got me curious. You gave up a name too. Your father, right?”
“That’s right.” Imogen looked straight ahead as they walked, eyes steely.
“So you’re on my case about giving up Letters, but you’re willing to give up your own dad?”
“Well if we do our jobs right, no one’ll be givin’ anybody up…but yes. It doesn’t matter much to me.”
He squinted at her. “Doesn’t seem like you fully believe that.”
She shrugged. “Depends on the day, I suppose. Relvin tried his best for me. But he hasn’t done enough for me to really consider him family in any real sense, not recently anyway.”
“Ah. I get that.” When she cocked an eyebrow at him, he shrugged. “I’m serious. Parents can fucking suck. Sometimes you’re much better off being alone.”
“Oh, I’m not alone though,” Imogen said, startled. “I have Laudna. And she’s more family to me than anyone who shares my blood has ever been.”
Family.
Don’t get too fucking sentimental. You thought the Nobodies were family, and look how that turned out.
“Family…can be good, yeah. But found family can fuck you up just as much as blood family can. Some days it just…doesn’t seem worth the effort.”
“Laudna’s worth any effort to me,” Imogen said simply. “And if, after my whole town turned on me, I’d decided to just give up and never let anybody in again? I’d never have found her. I’d still be alone. An’ I don’t think there’s anything worse than that.”
Alone is much safer. Alone has worked just fine for you.
…has it, though?
Another stone, and another, clattered down the wall in Ashton’s heart.
“Laudna seems pretty special,” Ashton said, watching Imogen’s reaction.
“Oh, she is.”
He’d never seen anyone smile quite that brightly. He considered.
“Hang on tight to her, yeah?”
“You don’ have to tell me twice.”
---
“Have you ever been in love before?” Fearne asked.
Ashton made a prompting motion with his hand. “And? What…”
“What…the fuck is up with that?” Fearne finished.
Ashton and the entire group laughed. They were finally getting the hang of the game he’d sprung on them. They finally had a moment to themselves, and he figured that drinking and getting to know each other better was the best possible way to spend it. Fucking fun, too. He’d even managed to get FCG to swear for probably the first time ever.
You were already getting too attached. Now you’re actively trying to bond with them? You’re a fucking idiot.
Everyone’s eyes were on Ashton, waiting eagerly, and he turned his mind to Fearne’s question. Finally, he settled on, “Huh. You know? I don’t know.” Fairly sure he hadn’t been, though.
No, but I bet a thousand people have fallen in love with that pretty face before…bet she’s a real heartbreaker.
So maybe take a step or six back before you get yours broken.
Oh, chill the fuck out. She couldn’t if she tried.
He certainly was watching her carefully, though. Her reactions, her responses. Her stories about the Feywild. Her relatable drive to steal things that were shiny and interesting. She was just so fucking fascinating. He could watch her for hours.
At the end of the night, though, it wasn’t Fearne’s words that stuck in Ashton’s mind. No, it was a single word out of Orym’s mouth: “Ashari.”
Not ‘Hishari.’ But maybe I remembered it wrong. Maybe I’ve been wrong this whole fucking time.
So while Dorian was serenading them, Ashton grabbed another pair of drinks, sliding back into the table next to Orym and setting one down in front of him.
“Okay…what favor do you need?” the halfling asked skeptically.
Ashton laughed. “Nothing like that. I just wanted to hear a little more about where you came from.”
Orym blinked. “Well…okay. What about it?”
“These ‘Ashari’ folks. So they’re big on like…elemental magic and shit, right?”
They talked for another half hour, and while Orym seemed hesitant at first, as they went on he opened up more. It felt to Ashton almost as if he’d just been waiting for someone to ask, for a chance to reminisce about home. He seemed happier talking about Zephrah; softer somehow.
“Okay then,” Ashton said finally — having found none of the answers he was looking for, really, but enjoying learning about his companion nonetheless — “Tell me this. Your whole life has been spent with these people, you clearly love them and they’re very important to you. Lots of people don’t really have family or a home to go back to like that.”
Orym looked…sad somehow, but nodded. “I’m lucky to have them in my life, yeah.”
“So then why are you here, instead of there? I know you said you were on some mission or something, but you also said this wasn’t usually your job. Why not just leave it to someone else?”
“Sometimes keeping the people you care about safe, means doing things you wouldn’t otherwise choose to do.”
Ashton stared. Something inside him shifted, and several stones came tumbling down.
“That…makes sense,” he said, slowly.
“You sound surprised.”
“Maybe I just haven’t had anything worth protecting in awhile.”
It would be much better if you fucking kept it that way.
His eyes darted around the table, landing on each of the others in turn.
I think…it may be too late for that.
---
The theater job wasn’t even related to the mess they’d walked into after taking out Bertrand’s killer, so Ashton supposed they shouldn’t have taken it on. The voice in his head wouldn’t shut up about it, at least. But the others clearly weren’t safe yet, not with the eyes of the upper echelons of Jrusar society on them. So Ashton stuck around.
For now.
While the others broke off into little groups to scour the Dreamscape Theater for signs of missing persons, Ashton and Laudna checked out the restrooms. It didn’t take long to discover they were…entirely ordinary bathrooms. So the pair of them returned to the lobby to wait for the others to catch up, hopefully with more actually useful information.
Laudna took out Pâté and danced him along a railing, voicing a performance of some sort worthy of a theater…at least Ashton assumed it must be, in her mind. A few patrons walked by and gave her startled looks. Frowns. Sneers, even. He stepped into their view and glared at them until they noticed and ran off muttering to themselves.
He’d hoped she wouldn’t catch it, but when he looked back at Laudna, she’d paused her antics and was watching him instead.
“That was kind of you. But it really wasn’t necessary, I promise.”
“Oh they can fuck right off,” he said, glaring after the patrons as they disappeared out the front door before returning his attention to Laudna. “Honestly, I don’t know how you do it.”
“Do what?”
“Just…accept people treating you like that.”
“You get used to it after awhile,” she said simply.
“I never have,” they muttered under their breath. “People are fucking awful.”
“Some of them are,” she agreed. “But lots of them aren’t. Well, maybe not lots. But some. I have Imogen. And the rest of you, now. That’s enough for me.”
Ashton shook their head. “Still. I just…don’t get it. The world has clearly dealt you a shit hand. I don’t see how you’re not fucking angry.”
She shrugged. “One learns to make due with what one has. I have a lot more now than I used to, so I’m grateful for that. Sometimes you just have to learn to appreciate the little things.” She glanced fondly at Pâté.
She is…so utterly bizarre. But incredibly intriguing. And…kind, somehow, despite everything.
Another stone slipped from the wall, and Ashton couldn’t help but grin.
They nodded at the little rat-bird. “You made that yourself, right? He’s pretty fucking fantastic. How’d you do it?”
Laudna’s eyes lit up, and she launched into a discussion of puppet construction that kept both of them busy until Imogen’s mental call drew everyone to a fight in the alleyway.
By the end of the evening, Chetney and Cyrus had joined their little collective, and Ashton had the distinct feeling that their whole group was in way over their heads. He was fairly certain he wouldn’t be going anywhere for some time.
---
If the group wanted to track down Chetney’s old friend like they promised, they’d need Artana Voe. And if they were going to find Artana Voe, Ashton was going to have to use all his best sources of information.
And if Ashton was going to do that, well, they were going to need to buy one hell of an expensive bottle from the bartender at the Soot and Swill if they were going to make up for the last time they’d been in.
Fuck my life.
He stood in front of the bartender shaking his head. “85 gold? Really?”
Out of nowhere, Fearne appeared at their side, batting her eyelashes directly at the bartender. “How much is it? Hi, I’m Fearne,” she added, turning on her maximum charm, and laying a hand on the small of Ashton’s back.
He froze.
“85, you said?” she asked. “I think I’ve got just the thing.” And while Ashton was still processing her casual touch, she lifted up the Allhammer earring and presented it to the bartender with a coy smile. “It’s a family heirloom. That’ll do the trick right?”
The Allhammer earring.
The one Ashton had been wearing as a belt for days.
And she’d just slipped it right the fuck off him in broad daylight in the middle of a conversation where both of them were being watched, with no one the wiser.
Ashton tried very hard not to stare, and failed miserably.
Goddamn, that was fucking sexy.
Someone ought to teach that girl a lesson about keeping her fucking hands to herself.
Yeah, they could see it now. Backing her up against a wall, pinning her arms above her head with one hand, giving her a thorough pat-down to check for contraband with the other, wiping that cocky grin off her lips with their mouth…
Come to think of it, maybe they didn’t want her to keep her hands to herself.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“I’ll take it, but it’ll be another 40 gold on top of that,” the bartender was saying as Fearne lied her little heart out about the earring’s supposed origins, just making Ashton shake his head in wonder all the more. He tossed 50 gold on the counter.
“Just to keep us ahead of the game for any nonsense later in the night,” he said, accepting the bottle as Fearne returned to the others, mission accomplished, as he watched her all the while.
Indeed, there would be plenty of nonsense later in the night, both at the Soot and Swill and elsewhere in town. But something pressed on Ashton’s mind for the remainder of the evening, and by the time the girls returned for their date with chef Pretty — They’re really going on a date with the chef? All of them, together? Was that entirely necessary just to stage a distraction? She doesn’t actually mean anything by it, right? — Ashton had already made up their mind. They broke off from the group and made their way alone to Jiana Hexum’s home.
For once, what she wanted from him actually sounded potentially fun. Definitely something he wouldn’t be able to pull off alone, though. And…some part of him was undeniably happy about that fact.
“I’m running with a new crew, these days,” he told her. And heavens help him, he meant it.
When he returned to the bar to meet the others, he gathered them around and took a deep breath.
“Since it looks like you’re all sticking around for now, there are a few things I probably ought to tell you,” he said. “About who I am, and some baggage I’m carrying. And when I’m done…I’ve got a favor to ask.”
“Thank you for trusting us, Ashton,” Imogen said when he was done.
“I figured it was about time.”
Another several stones fell off the wall.
---
Their rescue of Gurge wasn’t going well. The creepy, spindly motherfucker calling himself ‘The Nightmare King’ kept bringing more furniture to life to attack the group and throwing fae magic at them, and one by one they kept going down. Dorian was down, then up again; Orym down, then up again; FCG was, somehow, a turtle. And all the while, as they battled, Chetney fucking Pock o’Pea was…stripping down to his fucking underwear?
And then right as things were looking their most dire, and Ashton looked desperately toward the door that was locking them into this battle, hoping for an out, Chetney scratched his forearm open with his chisel and…
…transformed into a fucking werewolf.
Werewolf-Chet took a few swipes at the Nightmare King and Ashton used the distraction to launch a hammer directly at Ira’s head. Despite the group being in absolute shambles, the combined attack finally managed to press Ira into a last-ditch escape attempt, teleporting away before the final blow could strike.
Though not before looking over at Fearne and telling her menacingly that she ‘smelled like a Calloway.’
Ashton wasn’t sure what Ira meant by that, but it couldn’t be anything fucking good. Still, this was not the time nor place to sit around and chat about the particulars, as a glowing contraption in the corner of the room pulsed angrily, and Ashton only barely had enough time to drag everyone out of the tower before it exploded behind them.
He urged them all on toward the nearest gondola landing, quite certain that they’d be caught and implicated if they didn’t scram immediately; sneakery and deception weren’t exactly this group’s speciality. Ashton ushered them all forward as quickly as possible, taking up the rear and watching for anyone who might be following them.
Chet eventually fell into step beside him, oddly quiet compared to his usual bluster.
“You know I wasn’t so sure about you,” Ashton said with a grin, clapping him on the back with a force that launched the gnome forward a foot, “but I gotta say, that was fucking spectacular back there. Why’ve you been holding out on us?”
Chet looked surprised. “Why? I’m a fucking werewolf. I mean sure, I’m a badass and all, and any group would be lucky to have me, but…” He mumbled something under his breath.
“But what?”
“Not everyone has exactly seen it that way so far,” Chet grumbled, just loud enough to be heard.
“Ah, yeah. I guess that’d probably be true,” Ashton said. But he grinned. “Well, I doubt you’ve gotta worry about that much with this crew. After all, we’ve already got a kleptomaniac fae, a purple lightning girl, a dead lady, a sentient automaton, a blue man, and a crystal-skulled idiot,” he said, knocking one fist on his skull with a laugh. “We attract plenty of attention as-is. Not like getting a little furry is going to change things much.”
“Yeah, you’re a bunch of fuckin’ weirdoes,” Chet said. “You got that right.” But he was smiling as he said it.
“So,” Ashton said after a minute, as they approached the gondola landing, which was currently unoccupied. “We helped you find your guy. Gurge is free. So, now what? Planning on heading off?”
“I don’t know,” Chet said, looking up at them, with an almost challenging glare. “If we help you out with your little debt with Hexum, will you leave afterward?”
“I don’t know,” Ashton admitted. “I’ve been alone for a long time, you know. Hasn’t been that bad.”
“Yeah, yeah, same for me. Being alone is fine.” They came to a stop and Chet leaned against a stone wall, built to keep passers-by from falling into the edge of the chasm between the spires. The others were all nearby, engrossed in conversation with Gurge. Chet watched them. “But I guess…being with other people isn’t awful.”
“Yeah, I mean, things could be worse.”
“I wouldn’t have found Gurge without all of you. Who knows what else we could accomplish together? Like your thing!”
“Yeah, like my thing,” agreed Ashton. “And Imogen’s thing. And Orym’s thing.”
“I mean, it would be kinda rude to leave them all in the lurch after they’ve helped us.”
“Right, right. Pretty shit move on our part to just fucking disappear when they’ve done so much for us.”
You don’t owe them a damn thing. This was just supposed to be a job, and the job is over.
“Exactly. Plus...you know, it might be fun,” Chet admitted with a grunt.
Ashton grinned. He couldn’t help himself. “You know, it just might.”
“Strictly as a business arrangement,” Chet added.
Ashton shook his head. “You know what, Chet? I think we may be a little bit past that point. Whether we loners like it or not.”
Chetney crossed his arms and grumbled some more under his breath, but even though he wouldn’t look directly at Ashton, he eventually nodded.
“And anyway,” the gnome added, “that Ira fucker seemed to have it out for Fearne for some reason. I don’t like that one bit. Not about to leave her to deal with that all on her own.”
“Oh, she won’t have to,” Ashton said. The two made eye contact, and an unspoken agreement seemed to form between them: no harm would come to her while they were around. Not if they had anything to say about it.
Another stone fell from the wall, joining the small pile that was forming at its base.
When exactly was it that you decided to stop taking my advice? the voice needled at him as the gondola took them back to their makeshift home for the night. All I’ve ever tried to do is keep you safe. You’re playing with fucking fire. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
---
If Bells Hells, as they’d taken to calling themselves, had been relative unknowns in Jrusar before the ball, they certainly weren’t afterwards. And having made such a splash, for better or worse, their faces were suddenly much more recognizable.
Their faces…one of which had a 20,000 gold bounty on it, and another of which looked too close to that face for comfort.
Dorian and Cyrus would have to skip town. Fast. And where they were going, Bells Hells couldn’t follow.
“To Dorian,” Ashton had toasted the night before, after the decision was made. “Who’s leaving us for his stupid brother! What the fuck is up with that?”
Everyone had mirrored the toast, and Ashton tried to keep on a mask of emotional detachment that he wasn’t actually feeling. As they all gathered at the skyport now, a day later, that mask was threatening to slip. Ashton dug his fingernails into his fists, watching from across the room as Fearne and Orym said their final goodbyes.
Gods, why does this feel so fucking awful?
Because he’s leaving you. Just like I fucking told you he would. They all will, and you know it, and yet you won’t just fucking walk away.
Fearne stepped away, apparently granting Orym and Dorian a little extra time alone, and Ashton spotted her wiping a tear surreptitiously from her face. Without even thinking, he walked over and posted up on the wall next to her, arms crossed but face soft.
“Are you alright?”
“Sure,” she said, sniffing, but mustering a smile that appeared genuine enough. “I mean, no, but it’ll be okay. It’s not like he’s gone forever. We’ll definitely meet again.”
“How can you be so sure?”
She shrugged. “I can just tell. Some bonds just…don’t break. No matter how far away you are, or for how long. Like me and my nana. And the other Crown Keepers. Dorian…he’s family now. So I know — I’ll definitely see him again.”
“Family…doesn’t always stick with you the way you’d like.”
Fearne regarded him carefully. “Dorian will. Sometimes you just have to have faith. And anyway, it’s not like I’m alone. I still have Orym. And all of you now, too.” She smiled. “I mean, you’re not planning on running off anytime soon, are you?”
“I…guess not, no.”
You should.
Probably. But…I don’t really think I want to.
“Well, good,” she said, taking off toward where the other Hells stood in a group discussing next steps, glancing back over her shoulder with a smirk on her face.
He couldn’t figure out why she was looking at him like that…until she held up a hand, dangling a golden watch between two fingers and waving it in the air.
Ashton’s golden watch.
He stared. When…?
“After all,” she called back innocently as she walked left, “if you do run off, how will you ever get your stuff back?”
Hot…damn.
Can’t take your eyes off that girl for a single second, can you? Otherwise she’ll walk away with everything you own.
That’s not why you can’t keep your eyes off her.
Just before disappearing around a corner, Fearne looked back at Ashton, caught them watching her go, and smiled brightly.
Somewhere deep in the center of the wall, the stone that had been loosening since the first time he laid eyes on her shattered.
The foundation cracked. Gravity shifted.
And just as if he’d smashed through it with his own fucking hammer, the wall came crashing down.
Wherever that smile is…that’s where I wanna be.
You absolute fucking idiot. You let yourself get attached.
No. That’s not what this is. I do not get attached.
He looked toward the skyship just in time to see Dorian and Cyrus disappear inside with another pang in his chest, and shook his head.
So I like them; fine, I admit it. They promised to help me pay off Hexum; if I get along with them, that’ll just make it easier. Maybe we can even have a little fun along the way. Is that so bad?
Fine. Keep them around for your little job, if you must. ‘Protect’ them, if you’re so convinced you can. Play your little games, have your fun.
You’ll only be making it harder on yourself when things inevitably go south. Oh, and harder on them too…when you end up dragging them down with you.