anon, this is a terrible, horrible, very bad prompt and u should feel awful for sending it
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His parents are always back before dinner. Dad had promised to make rajma-chawal for dinner, one of his favorites. They made dinner for him when they didn’t think they’d be back before sunset. But it’s nightfall now, and he’s hungry, and alone. Mom and Dad still aren’t back.
“Where are you?” he murmurs, rising on his tiptoes so he can peer out the window into the street. It’s empty; the last person he had seen walking by hadn’t been Mom or Dad. He falls back to his feet and runs upstairs, hand on the stair guardrail. When he reaches the landing, he goes straight to Mom and Dad’s room, rounding the bed to Mom’s side, carefully avoiding stepping on her prayer rug.
He has to use the stepstool to get into the bed, curling up on Mom’s side, resting his cheek on the pillow. It smells like her, soft and floral. He buries his face in her pillow and waits, hating the silence of the house.
Where are they? They should be home by now…
They’d left him books to read and games to play while they were gone, in place of lessons, but Dad makes the games fun, and the books are boring, anyway.
He doesn’t know how long he waits for them to come home, but he doesn’t move until his stomach growls. The house is dark, because he’s not supposed to light candles without Mom or Dad watching, not after what happened last time.
Asra sits up and cups his hands in front of his chest, sticking his tongue out like Dad does when he’s in his workshop. He furrows his brow, concentrating, and he thinks, Light!
Just like Dad showed him, and the weird fox man.
A small orb flickers to life between his palms, floating up into the air, shining pale yellow. Asra laughs and claps, looking around before he realizes Mom and Dad aren’t there to see him do magic. Then he frowns and turns onto his stomach, carefully sticking his foot out and lowering himself down until he feels the stepstool.
Then he goes to the kitchen, Mr. Light bobbing along behind him, and finds the cookie jar. Cookies aren’t supposed to be eaten til after dinner, Mom always says, but he hasn’t had dinner and he’s hungry.
After he’s eaten every cookie except two (one for Mom, and one for Dad), he sits in the living room, Mr. Light hovering over his shoulder.
“They’ll come home,” he tells Mr. Light, who bobs in agreement. Asra kicks his legs, staring down at his bare feet, tongue poking at the cookie bit stuck between his teeth. After a minute, he uses his fingernail to pry it out, then licks his finger and wipes it on his pants. He looks to Mr. Light. “They’ll be back soon, I just gotta wait for them.”
Mr. Light bobs again.
Asra waits, humming and daydreaming. When he gets tired, he looks out the window again—standing on his tiptoes just to see outside—but he doesn’t see Mom or Dad. “Huh,” he says, and even though he’s not supposed to, he goes upstairs, retrieves the stepstool, and unlocks the doors. He drags the stepstool aside and goes out into the street, Mr. Light accompanying him the whole way.
The streets are empty. He knows it takes a long time to get to the palace. They’re probably just stuck, is all. They’re coming. Satisfied, Asra goes back into the house, closing the door and dragging the stepstool in front of it. He locks all three locks, then, just in case, uses the stepstool to look out the windows.
No Mom. No Dad. But that’s okay. They’ve never been so late before, but they’ll be back in the morning. They always are. Maybe they can have pancakes for breakfast? Or maybe they’ll take him to the Milovan restaurant. He won’t get a bedtime story tonight, but Dad can tell him two tomorrow night, so that’s okay.
“They’re coming home,” Asra says, grunting under the weight of the stepstool as he lifts it up. He has to half-carry it, half-drag it back up the stairs. “They’re just a little late, Mr. Light. It’s okay.”
But he doesn’t want to sleep in his bed tonight, so he brings the stepstool to Dad’s side of the bed. After changing into his favorite nightdress, Asra climbs onto Dad’s side of the bed and crawls under the covers. Dad’s pillow is softer than Mom’s, but it doesn’t smell like Dad, just cotton. So Asra climbs out of bed and grabs one of Dad’s scarves, soft red cotton trimmed with golden tassels. He wraps it around himself and gets back in bed, moving around Dad’s pillow until he’s comfortable.
“Goodnight, Mr. Light,” he says, and Mr. Light bobs once again, sputtering out and leaving him in darkness again. Asra tugs Mom’s pillow closer so he smells her, and pulls the covers up over his head, a shield against the unfamiliar darkness. He doesn’t like how it feels to sleep knowing Mom and Dad aren’t there with him.
Oooooh, this was HUGE. Next time I will have to paint ruffles i will take a week off from work. But Alyssa has been very, very patient, and now I can finally share the commission piece she asked me for:. these are Asra and Queenie dancing at the Masquerade!
This started at a simple angst post but kind of turned into a minific ish type thing at the end??? Whoops.
Asra said all that was left of you was ash and bone right?? But how did he r e a l l y know that it was you??? It could’ve been anyone. I image that they dumped all the ashes and bones together because they just ran out of room.
So, let’s imagine for a moment, Asra digging through ashes and bones until his fingers bleed and sobbing his eyes out, not even knowing if any of those are actually you. Until he sees a glint of gold in the ashes, that is.
I don’t remember the significance of the necklace you give to Asra as a favor before the fight, if it has any of all. For my apprentice though, it’s something that she wore all the time in her past. She’s never seen without it.
So now, let’s apply that to the mc in general. Let’s think about Asra seeing that gold in the ash and rushing over to it, pulling it out and seeing the necklace that you always have on. So now, he knows that it’s you and he just sits there in silence with tears streaming down his cheeks as he realizes that you’re really dead. You’re dead and his last conversation with you was an argument before he left. He left you behind to die all alone while he ran away. Selfish, he calls himself.
He takes your ashes in his shaking hands along with the necklace. This is all that’s left of you. His chest is tight and he sobs even harder now as he lets out an ear splitting scream. He frantically digs and digs and digs. Refusing to acknowledge that you’re dead even though he knows that you’re gone and there’s nothing he can do about it.
He stays in the same spot for days afterwards. He doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep, he’s just numb. He doesn’t leave until he’s dragged away and forced out of the Lazaret. But when he gets back, he’s not the same.
He shuts himself away in the shop for weeks. He hugs your clothes when he goes to sleep at night because they still smell like you so he can at least pretend that you’re still there.
He nearly has a panic attack when your scent fades from the shop.
He also isn’t able to sleep much during those 3 years you’re gone. He constantly has nightmares about you. Sometimes he watches you burn in the furnace, sometimes he’s back at the Lazaret, ankle-deep in your ashes, and sometimes he sees you. In these dreams, he calls out for you, screaming your name until his throat is raw. But even then, you can’t seem to hear him. The end of each dream is the same, though. It’s your voice ringing loud and clear.
“Why did you leave me to die, Asra?”
He wakes up with tears streaming down his face and Faust looking at him in concern as his heart beats painfully fast in his chest.
He doesn’t think he’ll be getting back to sleep anytime soon.
HMM DAMN contemporary/ballet instructor bc the dude is hella extra and i also think he’s more graceful than he lets on
an excuse to put him in tight tights
I mean come on he already looks like a danseur noble with the pirate garb
probs one of those people who is more coordinated during a performance than in daily life rip
AND BASED OFF @theartofflorence (you lovely soul)’s suggestions, let’s add that:
Asra also knows Detroit ballroom dancing, and;
Julian is proficient in the swing, tango (as hinted in the game) and various other ballroom dances. Though he’s mainly a ballet instructor, he likes performing the other dances for shows and competitions because they’re more fun!
FantasyBoudicca 
