shifted_logs | if you sing loud and clear, someone passing by will surely hear you

Characters: Prince Morgana and the tower-bound Asch the Long-Haired
Location: A Fairytale Woods
Time: During the fairytale plot
Summary: Asch meets his Prince Charming, who is ~~NATALIA?~~ a strong-willed princess who insists on fighting herself with passionate but occasionally misguided ideals. And Asch sings wonderfully.

Morgana rode out into the woods, as she did each day. She sought adventure and looked to the well-being of her people, except when she remembered that these were not her people. Then she looked for a way home. But today she did not remember. As her horse nudged aside branches, picking a careful path along the road, Morgana sank into herself and became the errant prince. And as that true self was carried away, the regnant mind heard a sound.

She had never heard anything so beautiful.

Morgana turned her horse off the path. Recognising the treachery of the forest floor, she dropped down and guided her steed through the woods, following the song. Soon, the pull of it brought her to the base of a stone tower too tall to climb.

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Asch was often frustrated with being kept in the tower, but he found ways to occupy himself. Having hair this long was a chore, too. This afternoon, he sat on the wide marble seat of his window, long crimson hair piling beside him as he brushed it. He wasn't sure where the haunting song came from; thoughts of hours in the cathedral of Daath flickered through his mind and were forgotten as movement below caught his attention. If he strained his ears, he could hear the snorting of a horse.

With utmost care, he set the hairbrush down beside the window, braced himself against the sill, and leaned out to look. What he saw made him nearly draw back in shock, but an almost childlike curiosity made him peer out again. The only one who visited him was his jailor and almost-father. And then there had been that run-in with Guy, but...

It was a prince. Or at least he thought it was a prince. Something lurched inside his chest, a reminder of someone long lost to this life. He fought to find something to say, but all he could do was stare.

Edited 2011-07-04 01:50 (UTC)

When she saw the face appear, Morgana's eyes widened. Then she called up to it: "Hello? I heard somebody singing in the woods. It was a most enchanting song. Was that you?"

Asch tucked some hair behind his ear, though it didn't do much to help his sight. And cutting his hair, especially right now, was completely out of the question.

He couldn't believe someone had heard him. This was... embarrassing, but it wasn't like he could blame anyone else.

"... You weren't supposed to hear that." It was more of a murmur, but whatever, his embarrassment was evident. He called down to her, louder this time. "Who are you?"

"I am Morgana." She did not name herself as royalty; some didn't take well to royalty, and Morgana didn't want to bother him. "May I come speak to you?" She didn't know what compelled her, but she felt she had to talk to the boy.

"Morgana?"

It had been a while since he heard that name, and he recalled their first meeting on the Plane. Some conversation about the Machine, a possible deity. He had been strangely attracted to her then, perhaps because of her understanding that not everything was as it seemed, and her desire to delve into the workings of their astral prison. She had a strength about her that was very... familiar. It made his heart twist just to think of it.

But it was different this time. He was in a precarious position, and Morgana was the only company this place had afforded him aside from specters from his past. Maybe she knew more. Maybe she could help him.

He leaned out a little more, resisted the rush of hope that came with the vertigo.

"I'm Asch. You might not remember."

Morgana did not remember at all, and she frowned. "I think I would remember one such as yourself." She had let the story have her. It was easy for her. It was easy to be the prince, a knight errant, a hero. It was easy to be confident in her place and her life. It was easy to be free. So it was easier for her to forget who she was and let the Prince take control, to believe in the life that she wanted to lead. "I have travelled these woods since I was a child, and I have never before..." No.

No, she hadn't. Uther hated it when she went into the woods alone. She had been his ward, and as Arthur's wife she had little more freedom and far more responsibility with it. "Asch?" Her voice had been quieter as she recalled, but now she shouted up to him. "Forgive me! I had forgotten who I am. It is part of the magic of this place. Yes, I remember you. From the Plane. What are you doing up there?"

He watched her with a calm expression as she tried to reason with the fairytale. But in the end her memories won, and it was something of a relief that he wasn't alone anymore.

... Wait. There was something...

Something didn't feel right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe the longer he resisted the fairytale, the deeper it sought to pull him in. Whatever. He'd have to analyze it later. For now, he was far more concerned with the woman beneath him, his only ally in this maddening place.

"I have my part to play, too," he admitted without much relish. "Mine is being locked up in this tower. There's no way down for me." To be kept prisoner by Van... It was poetic injustice in its lowest form. And he hated it. His knuckles whitened on the sill. "I can't free myself like this."

"Then we will break you free." It was not a question. There was an injustice; it had to be righted. That was how things worked, both for Morgana and the prince she could have become. "I could find a rope, perhaps, and attach it to an arrow. Then I could fire it up to you and you could climb down with that."

Not that Morgana had spent large portions of her childhood considering ways to climb out of her window or anything.

Her declaration surprised him. She hardly knew him, and yet she felt like she could help? Even he had doubts. If they somehow managed to kill Van, what good would it do? He'd probably come back after the experiment was over, and besides that, it didn't offer Asch a way down.

But the arrow idea did. It wasn't something he'd considered, and for that, he chided himself. Thinking so two-dimensionally wouldn't help either of them.

"That might work."

He was a bit flustered at the idea of someone helping him so soon. He was entirely out of his element. But... it could be useful. For now.

She considered for a moment where they might find what they need. Wasn't there a fishing village just a little down the path she had left? They would have rope for netting and other supplies. "I know where I can find what we need. I'll return in half an hour, if you will be safe from whoever holds you for that long." Everything in Morgana rebelled against leaving somebody alone if they were at risk, but she could not help him by staying there.

So far, Van hadn't done anything threatening except imprison Asch in the first place. He was doted on not unlike a suffocating mother. It was extremely... peculiar behavior coming from Van, but it felt right at the same time. It unnerved him.

"Just go. I'll be fine," he told her. Even if he didn't feel at all confident in what was to come, they had to try.

She recognised that sort of brashness, and she frowned. But there was nothing she could do. With a tug of the reigns, she was off to the village, and in a little more than the half hour she promised she had returned with bow and arrow and enough rope to make the height. She hadn't fastened the rope to the arrow yet--she was in too much of a rush to get back to Asch. For whatever reason, the worry was acute.

She was a little hesitant to announce herself, lest Asch's captor came back. So she strained her head to look for any signs.

if you sing loud and clear, someone passing by will surely hear you

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