fabrecation: (And I'll take you down)
[Action]

[... trash like you stole my family, my home... everything from me!

Every night since the draft, those words echo in his head along with images of what happened to both him and his original. Seeing Asch as a child, as the real Luke fon Fabre, happy and smiling, in the place where he belonged...

Then seeing it fall when Luke stole it away again. And having to see him kill their own mother, even though it was just a dream.

It's become even more of a chore to try sleeping. It's difficult when he keeps waking up from horrible nightmares, and when the darkness and silence lead to negative thoughts chasing each other and biting at his mind. It's a cycle that's been going on for a couple of months now, and has only gotten worse since the draft.

On such a night, he sits in the dark and looks down at the person sleeping beside him: his girlfriend, the love of his life. She'd miss him if he were to suddenly disappear and give Asch his title back, right? ... Right, he knows that.

So he disappears in a different way, merely getting out of bed, out of the building in general, to sit outside, pajamas and all, to lean his back against the wall and stare up at the night sky, cloudy and patchy that it is due to the previous rain. The stars he's looking at are fake, stupid and cruel, and yet somehow, he still finds comfort in them. They're of little use at the moment, and he finds himself at war with his own emotions, ones that keep making a wet, stinging sensation in his eyes that makes his vision blur and make him shut his eyes to try clearing them out and hold back the sensation, blocking his view of the stars.

Things are so messed up for him right now.]


[Voice]

[Going back inside won't help. Luke knows that he'd just sit there in the darkness and be unable to get some proper sleep again. So, might as well reach out and see if he can get some help with that.

He remembers long ago, when he had a similar sleeping problem. He'd asked over the journals just like this. A woman who dove into his dreams read him a book that made him fall asleep within minutes. The thought makes him give a fond little half smile before he lets it fall as he speaks quietly.]


Can someone talk to me? It doesn't have to be a story or anything, just... something. What you did today, what you want to do later, or – I don't know, what you were doing back in your world.

If... it's okay, anyway. You don't have to talk. I know it's late, and I'm sorry, it's just that...

I need to stop... thinking about things for a little while. That's all it is.
fabrecation: (Story of my life)
[It's so bad now that Luke feels like he can barely get out of bed except for necessary needs. It's... honestly kind of strange. Sure, he's scared, and sure, he hates having to lay here and just wait for it to happen, despite writing and drawing to pass the time. But he isn't quite as terrified as he was just a month ago.

It's like he's accepted that this is happening in a quiet, somber sort of way.

There's pain every day, he's tired every day, he's thin and pale and looks as if he's just wasting away, as if he's all that's left after tiny pieces of himself slowly just... faded away. Even his hair seemed not quite as full as it ought to be.

He hated it, yes. But it's happening. And he's close to fading away completely, he knows that. Maybe that's why he's mostly okay with this. It can finally be over.

He'd only flipped through the journal to keep track of everyone. Now, though, he can't help being morbidly curious, in a way. So, making sure that he himself is out of sight, he writes slowly to the masses.]


If someone told you that you didn't have much longer to live, what would you do about it? What would you do with the last days of your life?

[It's a question that could be asked even by a curious healthy person, something to get people to think. He can think of it that way, and get answers that he might just need because of it.]

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[replica model] • LUKE FON FABRE

November 2020

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