Chapter Text
... The blood was everywhere.
It pooled beneath Ash, warm and sticky, it felt like it was seeping into every part of him.
His clothes, just as the ones that came before it, would have to be burnt, replaced. He didn't want anyone to worry, after all. That would make them think he was weak, and he wasn't. He couldn't be.
The sleeves of his shirt were currently bunched up to his elbows, still baring his forearms, now bloodied and ugly. Even in the pitch black, all he could see was red. In the back of his mind, he considered the possibility of the wounds sitting on his arms scarring, before brushing it away. It didn't matter if they did, no one would be seeing them. Either way, the regeneration potions that Ash had used for the last few days seemed to work perfectly at resetting his form to normal so far, as long as they had been brewed with glowstone.
Groaning, he gathered all the strength he still had and took his last regeneration potion from his inventory, taking small sips as to not upset his stomach. Potions always hurt if he had not eaten, but it felt a little better when he took his time. He felt weak.
Ash glanced at his communicator that sat a few blocks away, face down. It had been going off periodically for the last hour or two, a sign that someone– most commonly Ewron– needed his attention for some menial task. The device vibrated for a brief moment, its screen lighting up and illuminating a short part of the floor below it. It wasn't enough to make out his surroundings, not that he needed to. He was very familiar with this room, now.
Ever since the room had been "confiscated by The Federation", it became a safe place for him. It felt like some sort of rebellion, being here despite The Federation's insistence. It made him feel like he doing something useful instead of just being a marionette, dancing along with The Feds games.
Being in the room also felt like he was closer to them in a way. He didn't like thinking about how (or why) that brought him, though.
With his strength coming back to his body, Ash stretched out of his curled position, arms shaky and sore as he pushed himself up to lean against the wall. He found himself gasping in pain, tears building up behind his eyes.
"It's not supposed to hurt like this," he whimpered, not that he would ever admit it. "Fuck– fuck..."
Pushing past the pain, he stood up, head spinning. His eyes darted towards his arms, bleeding having long since stopped due to the potion, but the wounds still remained. Guess he jinxed himself, then. Just perfect.
'I'll leave the cleanup for tomorrow. I have more important things to do.'
The glitching man leaned down, picked up his communicator, and broke a hole in the ceiling, taking one last glance at the room before unsteadily raising himself out of the tiny area.
Light finally shone onto his stained body, blood dripping lightly from his outfit, splattering beautifully on the quartz floor of his pantheon. It was cold now.
'Gross,' Ash grimaced as he grabbed his once-purple mantle, its weight having nearly doubled from its usual. 'I... might need to use lava for this. Fuck.'
As he stepped onto the elevator to his chambers, his hand searched around in one of his backpacks for a bucket of lava, which, surprisingly, he had.
A deep sigh escaped him as he began painstakingly removed his clothes. One by one, he threw the articles of clothing into the bucket. He watched as each of them burned, meeting the fate of so many earlier copies of the very same outfit. Turning away, he froze as the smell of burnt fabric and blood seeped into his nose, spreading around his room.
... The pantheon would probably reek of metal for days, based on how pungent the scent was.
Maybe he could grab flowers when he went out later. A lot of flowers.
Ignoring the strong odour that now consumed his home, Ash strode toward his bathroom. The concept of a shower made him cringe right now, the threat of the intense stinging on his arms making him want to change into different clothes like this. He very quickly decided against it. He didn't want to waste another set of clothes.
He made the shower brief, wanting to finally do something other than wallow in his own blood and tears for hours. Too much of his time was spent doing that, nowadays. It got to a point where Faris had asked him if he had been being forced to go somewhere by The Feds, and he really did hate worrying his friends underlings, but it was a part of his routine. He was sure they would get used to it eventually.
Kicking the bucket of lava to the side, Ash made his way to his wardrobe, a recent addition to his chambers, and began searching for something to wear. Maybe he would try something new today. Tubbo did say that seeing him in the same outfit everyday was a bit, well, unsettling. (He said it made him look like he didn't shower. Asshole.)
Eventually, he picked out long, black jeans, paired with a purple sweater that Molly had gifted him a few weeks back. It felt almost improper that he could wear something so modest, but he supposed that he was due for a change, even if just for a day.
Ignoring the sleeves brushing against his sensitive arms, Ash slipped on a pair of boots and left his room. He wiped his blood-stained communicator on his thigh before opening his whispers.
'hey, can we meet?'
'it's important :3'
'where are you?'
'okay so we are ignoring me now'
'</3'
...Mostly Ewron. Of course.
Though Ash would never admit it, the fact that he could somewhat rely on the Elven man was comforting. His daily messages were a constant, reminding him that he wasn't alone, even if The Regime was still having issues. (And sometimes, he uses Ewron as a distraction. It's easier to talk to him than confront issues, when he's having a difficult day.)
No matter what, they could fall back on each other. They could trust each other.
His thoughts halted as he reached the entryway of the pantheon, chilly wind blowing and stinging his face, making him squint. He had always been sensitive to the cold. Needless to say, he could not be less excited for their first winter on the island.
Ash brought his hand up to shield his eyes, trying to make out the position of the sun...
It was only 11am.
Letting his arm drop, he sighed, eyes closing. In the back of his mind, he hoped that Ewron wouldn't notice anything off. He always seemed to be eerily in tune with Ash's emotions, for some reason.
With a deep breath, he decided to finally stop leaving Ewron on read and typed out a response.
'wya?'