From Mystery at Lake Korron
“I will be stepping down as head coach…” Chetney’s statement hangs in the air. Ashton feels Orym and Fearne on either side of them, tense. “What?” Gasps the Bells’ resident tough guy.
Chetney waves them off and introduces the new coach. And wow. Just wow. She is something else. Ashton could sit there and watch her all day. She’s weird with spiderlike, creepy movements, but radiates an unfound sense of excitement. The uncomfortable lilt of her voice. A misplaced smile that’s too wide on her narrow and angular face. Ashton is intrigued, to say the least.
Later that night in the hotel room, Ashton sits with their teammates Imogen, Fearne, and Orym. They are surprised to still be hanging out with them, after all these years. After all the stupid shit Ashton’s done to them, or the trouble he’s gotten them into. Fearne, they get why she puts up with them. She’s even worse than Ashton is for pushing the boundary on trouble. Imogen and Orym though? Those two suck-ups. Not a day goes by that Ashton isn’t grateful for their friendship. Neither does a day go by that Ashton would be surprised they left them.
“I mean, she seems great so far.” Imogen ventures. They’re discussing the new coach. “No offence to Chet or anything, Orym, but he’s right – if we’re gonna’ win this year, we need someone who’s got a little more up their sleeve.”
“Definitely,” Ashton nods in agreement. “Plus, she’s super hot.” He smirks to themself as they see Imogen blush red and become flustered. Success. They think internally.
Orym, however, seems to have a different idea and he guides the conversation elsewhere. They leave the girls’ room soon after.
Two absolute assholes clip Ashton in the hallway, and they’re dialed to 11 immediately. Good thing Orym is there to hold them back, because Ashton cant even remember what pissed them off so badly but it this is going to be bad. Bad for him. Bad for the asshole with the Team Marquet tattoo. And bad for his buddy too.
Orym says something and puts a light pressure on Ashton’s arm. What would Ashton do without Orym? What would any of them do without Orym?
“Ashton, you’re up.” Laudna almost hisses in Ashton’s ear. They weren’t expecting to get any powerplay time this game. Or ever, if they’re being honest with themself. But this new coach seems to think higher of Ashton than he thinks of themself. Giving Laudna an incredulous look, she just returns it with a defiant jut of her chin and, “hurry up and get out there.”
They’re flying high after three wins and all the unexpected but welcome goals. Ashton is amazed to find themselves with all the extra playing time. Rolling their shoulders back, they can hear several pops and crunches. The soreness feels good after the morning’s battle.
When Fearne reaches for their hand and guides them into the casino, he’s on cloud nine. Completely at a loss to how they got to be here. Them. The royal fuck up. The kid his parent’s didn’t want. With no one but Milo caring about them for years. Shit’s crazy.
“You know, I think I like the colour silver a lot better than gold anyway.” Ashton smirks at his best friend and watches Orym’s face run through three different expressions before settling on a reluctant smile. As Pock O’pea drives the old bus back to Jrusar, Ashton’s mind wanders to FCG and the self-destructive behaviour that led them here. Orym wants to talk about the scout. He wants Ashton to admit to a dream, a future. One that doesn’t end at up at the bottom of a bottle. But Ashton brushes it aside as they usually do.
For a moment, they feel badly, watching Orym sigh and look out the window to the fading glitter of Yios in the background. But life is too short and painful to feel sorry for anything too long. They fish a sleep mask out of their bag and settle in to a dreamless slumber.
From Nightmare in Jrusar
Ashton’s phone is ringing. Fearne’s name and picture fills their screen. She must still be rattled after assassination attempt on the mayor, and all the police bullshit afterwards. Ashton thinks as they wait a couple more rings before answering. “What’s up? Didn’t I just see you?” They keep the tone light, because that’s their job. To be the one who doesn’t give a shit about serious things.
“What are you doing tonight?” Fearne is using her flirty voice. The one Ashton (and no one really) can ever say no to.
“You’re out of booze, aren’t you?” Ashton responds, trying to keep the smile on their face from seeping into their words.
“Maybe I’m just lonely.” Fearne responds, and they can practically hear her pouting on the other end.
“Lonely and thirsty?” Ashton gets up from one of the sagging couches in their and Milo’s living room. They walk over to the fridge, and are disappointed to see how empty it is.
Milo walks into the kitchen to fetch their noodles out of the microwave.
“You drink all those beers already?” Ashton asks, slightly annoyed.
Milo frowns at Ashton. “You mean the beers I bought when you were away, nursed, and then watched you drink all of in two nights?”
Still on the phone with Fearne, Ashton furrows their brow and frowns back. They’re pretty sure that didn’t happen, but fighting with Milo right now was not the priority. Ashton mouths ‘whatever’ at their sibling and continues through the raggedly apartment to gather enough things for a night at Fearne’s Nana’s place. No, Fearne’s place. It’s hard to think of that quirky place belonging to anyone other than Nana Morrie, but it is Fearne’s now.
Ashton arrives at Fearne’s about twenty minutes later, box of booze in hand. They continue their job of lightening the mood by razzing Fearne on her lack of cleanliness. She’ll know he’s only joking, as Ashton and Milo’s place is a permanent dump.
They alternate between talking about nothing and sitting in silence, but they can tell something is off when Ashton is on their third hit and Fearne hasn’t even tried to steal it away from him. Knowing they’re about to open up a can of worms, Ashton ventures “Whatcha thinkin’ about.”
All the talk about Fearne’s messed up family last night got Ashton thinking about their own fucked up history. The article they read about the Ashari temporary exhibit at the Jrusar National Museum itches at the back of their skull as he begrudgingly follows Orym through today’s training program. Ashton hates the cardio and stick-skills types of training. They want to be hitting things or getting hit. The finesse stuff? Leave that to the skilled players like Orym and Imogen. But Coach Laudna is adamant everyone on the team is competent shooting both ways before playoffs. She even threatened with benching players. Ashton wasn’t going to let their last real season end too soon, just because he was too lazy to learn to cradle with their left hand.
So, the stick now came with them everywhere appropriate. Cradle with a left, cradle with a right. Upside down maybe. It was all Coach Laudna’s advice. Ashton had been highly skeptical at first, but indulged the fellow weirdo. When they saw how quickly their game was improving, Ashton thought maybe coach did really know what they were doing. It was spooky how fast Ashton was getting comfortable with her. He actually liked her. That never happened to them this quickly. It was weird.
After the workout, Ashton is excited to explore the museum with the other Bells. They wander away from them a little bit, not wanting to draw too much attention to the exhibits that are drawing their attention. He stares at a particular mask for too long, Fearne notices. The back of their mind prickles, like they’ve seen the mask before. But like sand through fingers, the memory slips away.
Ashton knew the police wouldn’t stay away. But he wished his friends would stop trying to play hero. Rolling their eyes, they remember how Dorian and Orym jumped at playing detective when Imogen’s equipment was tampered with. They’re a little surprised when Fearne is so eager to help the Greenseekers out. Imogen can’t help being the good-guy, even though Ashton thinks they’d make a badass villain. And Orym is careful, but always helpful. So when Fearne initiates investigating this would-be murder, Ashton sighs internally knowing they’re coming along for this ride.
The BBQ is fun, Ashton supposes. But memories are mixing with nightmares and the blank spaces in Ashton’s brain, and it’s all getting to be too much. At some point, Chetney makes an executive decision for them and takes them home.
Milo is out with coworkers and the dark, cat-piss stinking apartment is claustrophobic. Ashton knows they shouldn’t go out in this state. Luckily there are beers in the fridge, and they know just one or two will help take the edge off. Their shirt is itchy on their skin and that comes off too.
At some point, they end up in the bathroom. Their face is wet. Why is my face wet? They feel light-headed. There’s blood on the ground. Who’s blood is that? I hope it’s not Fearne’s… Fearne. Ashton thinks. They should have called Fearne. Or Orym. Not let themselves get this bad.
A key rattles the front door. Panic of being found breaks Ashton out of their sad, drunken stupor. They heave themselves off the floor and turn on the sink. Splash some water on their face and look down at the damage. It’s not too bad this time. Ashton cleans themself up. They wipe up their mess. Milo is still stumbling around outside, and Ashton waits to hear their bedroom door close before taking the beer bottles out to the recycling outside.
How they found themselves in a dark alleyway, in a part of town they never go to, fighting for their life? Following Fearne and saving his teammate’s asses, that’s how. Ratanish knocks them with a mean right hook and Ashton is pulled from their thoughts back to the moment. This is awesome. They recover in time to partially block the bigger man’s next punch and land a solid hit of their own. The fight is a blur. Did it last an hour or a minute? Six seconds feeling like it might have been sixty. Blood is everywhere though as it pumps through their ears, preventing the words being said to fall on their ears.
Fearne’s warm arms are around him and then they’re being hauled into the back of a vehicle. Why don’t they let Fearne hold them more? This is so nice. Ashton incoherently thinks to themselves as the night rushes by through the window.
Paragon’s Call has a resident nurse. Ha, that’s funny. And they take their time to carefully clean Ashton’s many cuts. Where did Fearne go? I shouldn’t let her wander in here by herself. Ashton mutters something that’s supposed to be ‘Ratanish’, and is pleased to see their mumblings have the desired effect. Ratanish and the other guy, the bigger dumber one, stay in the room with them as the nurse gets him all bandaged up and adequately medicated. Feels good. Which is weird. Ashton feels fine at times, but never good. Must be strong drugs.
Then Fearne is back from ‘admiring all of the beautiful art.’ And the other guy, Rocky, Fearne calls him, escorts them back to Nana’s to rest.
It feels like a tonne of bricks has fallen on them when Ashton wakes up. An explosion of noise is sounding off and Ashton thinks they’re going to explode. It finally turns off, and is replaced with Fearne’s sleepy but concerned voice. They roll over and try to escape back into slumber.
The next thing they know is a blurry outline of Orym at the side of Fearne’s bed. He’s holding something out to Ashton.
“Hey buddy.” Orym’s voice is level, stoic. Very Orym. Ashton knows they must look like dogshit.
Ashton grunts and blinks. The plastic bottle in Orym’s hand has a familiar lightning blue liquid in it. They shift to a partial sitting position, trying not to wince in pain with the movement, and hold out their hand.
The sports drink is glorious on Ashton’s insides. They groan again, but this time with comfort. “Thanks dude.” Ashton manages to get a couple of words out, but shuts their eyes again.
Ashton is feeling well enough to sit on the couch as they wait for Fearne and the others to return. FCG is taking a nap on one of the big chairs as Ashton mindlessly scrolls through the latest social media app. Getting bored, they switch to a news feed and are frozen by the words they see. Greenseekers find man behind the Mayor’s assassination attempt. Hishari fanatics rise from the ashes.
Hishari. The word triggers them instantly. All the pain from the week; the year; the decade. Flashes of their father’s face, their mother’s voice. Pain. Fire. Explosion. None of it makes sense. Ashton continues to read the rest of the article. Hexum. Jiana Hexum. Who is that?
When Fearne gets home, she catches them on everything. What she found in the Paragon’s Call base. The Greenseeker’s findings. He shows her the article too. They talk. Actually talk. And, it’s weird, it’s painful but it’s good pain. Ashton suddenly feels invigorated. They want more information, they want to dig deeper. The fact that a would-be murderer was following Fearne around sets a fire in him.
“Maybe I should be taking my martial arts training more seriously.” Ashton then teases. “Think Ratanish would like a sparring partner?”
The days recovering and leading up to the rescheduled home opener go by in a blur. Ashton can’t practice fully until the day before, and then the team is taking things easy. But this new spark in them carries over to training. While Orym and the others run contact drills, FCG joins Ashton outside the box helping the Bells’ enforcer improve their stick skills. Ashton saw how easily Laudna and Imogen were passing the ball in warm up the other day, flipping the ball behind their heads.
He couldn’t do that. How come Imogen could do everything so easily? She was born with an otherwordly talent. On good days, Ashton could admit they were jealous. This was one of those days. So they had decided, if Imogen could do it, fuck it so could he. He could practice and work hard and figure it out, because she shouldn’t be the only one with flashy tricks.
Turns out Ashton’s stubbornness paid off sometimes. As the goal horn ends and the high of scoring a goal comes down ever so slightly, Ashton smiles up to the ceiling and lets their teammates maul him with hugs.
“Where did you learn that move?” Coach Laudna is grinning that lovely creepy smile as she hands him the hardhat.
Grinning back, Ashton replies. “I had some extra time on my hands this week…”
This is a fan fiction piece, characters are not my own. Everything is completely fictional. It takes place in a non-magic Exandria and draws inspiration from Critical Role characters and real-life events.
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