crescentview | the dreamer has nightmares

the dreamer has nightmares | closed

🌳Who: Trahearne and others!
🌳What: A series of nightmares leaves Trahearne (and others) sleepless
🌳When: The second week of summer
🌳Where: In the dream world
🌳Warnings: Slaughter, prejudice, depression in general, maybe a lil nsfw, Heart of Thorns spoilers looks directly at cocoa

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[Syrlya purses his lips, loosely folding his arms.] But you... keep having it?

[He's not completely sure how he feels about it. Most immediately, it puts him ill at ease--why would Trahearne really have dreams of him of all people saying such hateful things? It wasn't like Trahearne had ever failed him. Syrlya has always been... sincere, if not up front about every feeling.]

I have no control over my dreams.

[ And why his most absurd fears and doubts use Syrlya's face are beyond him.

His eyes dart to the side, but Syrlya is far out of his field of vision. He doesn't see him. ]

... I see. [Syrlya, too, averts his gaze to the side.]

But--[He breathes in.] I'm sure you've considered if they mean something?

[This is Trahearne, he thinks about (and overthinks) everything.]

[ The knot of anxiety in his chest tells him that it means literally everything he thinks it means. That everything Syrlya says is a genuine reflection of what the real Syrlya thinks.

But rationally, that makes no sense. And he knows he's being emotional.

He presses his hands to his forehead and squeezes his eyes shut, suddenly aware of how close to shedding tears he is. He breathes, trying to kick his rational brain into gear. ]

It doesn't mean anything. It's noise—irrationalities using my memory of your face to voice themselves back to me.

[ His voice drops to a whisper. ]

I know you don't hate me.

[Syrlya sure hopes he knows it, because he isn't really sure what to do with the idea that he doesn't.

It takes a while for him to pull his gaze back at Trahearne, letting the awkward feelings between both of them try and find some equilibrium until Trahearne's sorrow is most prevalent. Then he moves slowly across the room, to sit down on the couch beside Trahearne and rub a soothing hand over his back.]

[ His fists unfold to cover his eyes as Syrlya's hand begins to rub his back. It helps. A bit. It relieves his tension, and Trahearne exhales audibly. He feels the tears stinging the back of his eyes, so he squeezes them shut. He doesn't want to cry.

After a few deep breaths, he calms himself. Enough to talk, at least. His mind has been whirring in the silence. And though he knows Syrlya doesn't hate him, or wishes he remains dead, there is one question that has been haunting him recently. ]

...So many Pact soldiers and sylvari died in Maguuma. [ His voice is thicker with tears than he expects. He pauses, trying to compose himself further. ] Why is it all right that I come back, and...none of them do?

[His gaze flickers up at Trahearne's face, then down. He isn't immediately sure if it's a subject change or if Trahearne is just so shaken from his disrupted sleep, but he takes it at its face anyway.]

Something like that... it isn't really a matter of fairness, is it? Were it so easy to bring back the dead, nobody would die at all. You do not deserve a second chance any less than our siblings or our soldiers we lost to the dragons. But to receive it at all is a gift of chance.

[ It just so happened this way, didn't it? If seen as random chance, a haphazard coincidence, then he would be more accepting of this. He would happy to accept his winnings of this odd-ass lottery.

But there are very clearly deliberate forces at play, and that makes him think. He holds his breath for a moment. It's why he's so eternally grateful to the goddess... Would doubting her will be an affront to her? She could just as easily take his life away as she gave it, couldn't she?

After a moment, he lowers his hands and turns to face Syrlya. There is clear distress over his face, yet twisted as though trying to hide it. ]

Is it really chance? If you consider...

[ He stops himself. Once he starts down that path, it's going to be hard to stop. He shakes his head. ]

Never mind. You're right.

I know I'm right. [Is the whimsy of a god picking from billions across worlds really anything more than chance? And more importantly...]

You deserved a longer life than you had. A more joyful one. You are valuable not just for what you represent, but for who you are.

[He tilts his head aside with a wry smile.] And hopefully you'll start to see that now that you can't hide from other people on a hostile island or behind titles.

[ Everything--the tension, the doubts, the fears--melts away when Syrlya speaks to him. He'd always had unwavering faith in him, always placed his confidence in him purely because Syrlya had always placed his confidence in him, lifted him up, encouraged him in a way no one had ever done before in turn. A warmth blooms in his chest, reaching through all of his limbs, pricking the back of his eyes. His expression opens partially in disbelief, partially because he is so touched.

All his life he's only known himself by his titles, by his destiny, his obligations. He had not even considered that Syrlya had seen past all of that and seen him. That he thinks he deserves a long, happy life shatters the dam holding back his tears. They stream down his cheeks as he stares wide-eyed back at him. ]

Syrlya...

[The hand on Trahearne's back stills, but doesn't move as he reaches with his other one to brush some of the tears away. In his haste he didn't grab his gloves.]

[ Trahearne unconsciously holds his breath in the contract. He's so gentle...

A hand slowly reaches up to gently cup Syrlya's, a quiet sign of his gratitude. ]

[This time, the silence between them is comfortable as Syrlya continues to cradle Trahearne's face.

It's a long moment before he starts, the hand on Trahearne's back instead shifting to try and give his free hand a gentle squeeze.] Think you'll be able to sleep the rest of the night?

[ Trahearne readily takes his hand and grasps back.

At last, he gives a little smile and a short nod. ]

I think so.

[ At least now he can soothe himself by thinking back on this contact instead of all the awful things dream-Syrlya tells him.

He drops his hands. ]

You did not have to come all this way at such an hour, but...you did. Thank you.

It's nothing. [He's not sure he could put into words the feelings that drove him all the way out here in the middle of the night.

He does not make the move to get up first.]

[ Neither does Trahearne.

He...really enjoys this contact. Bright yellow eyes pierce the darkness as he sits there, quietly admiring Syrlya. He doesn't realize when his hand comes up to cradle the other's again. ]

I--

[ His lips part, a million and one wants blooming and shriveling in his throat before he can find the words to express them.

Eventually, he does speak. ]

Will you be all right going back on your own?

[ Of course he will be, but. ]

I should hope so, in a place like this. [So peaceful and relatively safe.

After a moment he slowly draws his hands back. He feels that want but in the face of it--he doesn't really know what to do.

Given the nightmare, he thinks its best to not poke at feelings Trahearne is reluctant to give voice to.] But you really should try and get some rest.

[ Trahearne smiles, his own hands now dropping to his lap. ]

As should you. I'm sorry for waking you at this hour.

[ Somewhat reluctantly, Trahearne stands from his spot on the couch and begins to make his way to the door. ]

Well, I wouldn't say this is quite your fault. Unless you've been dabbling in strange magic recently. [He rises from the couch to follow Trahearne, meeting him at the door.]

[ Trahearne offers a little smile as he pulls the door open, it quietly creaking on its hinges. Of course not--they both know that. Not that either of them are aware this is goddess meddling, however. ]

Good night, Syrlya. And be safe.

[ He leans his head against the door. ]

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