Jade was tired.

His body was blanketed by a heavy lassitude that covered him like an unforgiving, relentless snowfall. He felt the weariness of his muscles and his joints - the very same ones he so often joked about - to the core, and the smoldering cogs of his brain felt ready to expand beyond the confines of his skull.

Jade blamed it on the weariness of running around with five children and an animal from continent to island to city to every which place. It was exhausting.

(Truthfully, he actually found himself enjoying the company of his current group, despite the aches and the pains.)

The skeletons that were being pulled from his closet were the cause of his exhaustion, he was forced to admit. He could not help but feel a small pang of resentment for his newfound companions because of it, however irrational it was. Their struggles and trials were what strengthened those very skeletons, giving them the leeway to break from their binds and prance about in the open, thus rendering his usual, careful composure useless.

Jade could not sleep, and he found himself thinking about things that he did not wish to think about, so he grabbed his glasses and shuffled out of his bunk aboard the Albiore. He took a halted step away from his bed and looked upward, his heavy eyelids blinking tiredly. The transparent ceiling of the ship provided those within with a clear view of the air above, and on nights such as this, you could catch sight of the Fon Belt if you were looking hard enough. Jade wasn't (he was too weary to), so all he could see were stars and birds and the occassional glint of a fon stone far off.

"Lore-..."

He turned sharply at the sudden sound of a voice, his eyes narrowed dangerously and his body ready to spring into action. He discovered that it was only Luke, however, and his shoulders slackened as he mentally chided himself for mistaking Luke's almost child-like voice for that of an intruder. The boy in question was sleeping away on the bunk across from his, curled in on himself.

"Asch, y-..."

Jade glanced away for a moment, his lips pressing tightly together. Why was he still standing here listening to this? He wanted tea. Luke was just a child muttering away in his sleep, looking far too innocent for someone who just sacrificed ten thousand lives the day before.

He paused at that thought.

How hypocritical of me.

Though, to be frank, Jade doubted he could ever pass off as innocent no matter how gently he smiled, or how tenderly he spoke. He pressed a fingertip to the bridge of his glasses, adjusting their placement at the revelation.

(His own skin felt somewhat foreign to himself, as he was no longer wearing the long, gold-blue gloves that accompunied his uniform. He couldn't seem to surpress the shiver that rippled over his body at the touch of his own, cold skin.)

"Want to live..."

Jade's body ceased it's shivering and he tensed again, standing stiffly in the dim hallway of the bunkroom. His eyes raked over Luke's sleeping form once more, his mind turning itself around.

Luke's calm breathing hitched, nearly causing Jade to flinch. His expression was no longer peaceful as he muttered in a voice that sounded watery, "Want to live, here."

As Jade prepared himself a cup of tea, his eyes seemed to glaze over as images danced before his sight. There was a loud roaring in his ears.

They kept coming, these images and these sounds. They pushed themselves to the front line of his thoughts.

Absently, Jade turned off the small stove before him and stood there, his hands limp at his sides.

Through the roar, he could still hear Luke.

Fomicry.

What was the point, again?

Fear, perhaps.

All things shall eventually die, and I refused to accept the aftermath of that fact.

If he was the Father of Fomicry, then who was the Mother?

Dist, perhaps, though the thought made his stomach churn.

His sins were his alone, and they could not simply be placed upon another person.

Especially not a person like Dist.

Jade knew not how to atone, and he knew that he never would.

He had come to the conclusion that one could not right a wrong.

They could only make sure their next action after that wrong was a right.

Whatever 'right' was.

In order to be free of shame, one must carry it.

Some days, Jade felt as if he was sinking beneath the sparkling waters of Grand Chokmah because of the weight.

Jade did not want to drown.

They all wanted to do more than survive.

They wanted to live; even Luke, who was dying, and even himself, who did not understand it.

Go to him.

Move your feet.

Move.

Move!

He would not let Luke drown, either.