You can't wake up, this is not a dream [OPEN]

[thetyrant]

WHO: Logan and YOU!
WHAT: Open log for August and Kingsway, Logan settling into Skyhold.
WHEN: August and Kingsway
WHERE: All over Skyhold
NOTES: mild to moderate horror in introspection, probably nothing else

1.you are not a human being
Some person of seemingly minor importance was being entertained in Skyhold. Logan stood against a wall in his whole uniform except for breastplate and shoulder pads, finely-made clothing that marked him out. He had his arms crossed, hiding the marked left hand, observing quietly as someone he hadn't met yet made a formal welcome to this visitor. He was learning the etiquette and social requirements of this place, so he might be somewhat prepared whenever he had to meet someone important.

2.low on self-esteem so you run on gasoline
Logan had been offered a bed in a tent, at least for now, down in the valley below the castle. It was cold and terribly public and not at all what he was used to, but he told himself it was temporary and accepted it without complaint. He was not a king here, and had no right to demand things of the organization that had taken him in. The distance of several worlds from the Crawler seemed to make him more able to take such things rationally. Some small blessing.

It didn't stop the nightmares, though.

Some nights, he could control it enough to stay in his bed until dawn. Other nights, it drove him up and out of the tent, gasping and staggering behind it to vomit and just praying he didn't hit anything important. He stood there in his trousers with no shoes or shirt, hands on his knees, shaking, left hand clenched tightly. He was covered in sweat, despite the cold night air.

3.are you insane like me
Most of the soldiers didn't want to spar with Logan, which was fine. He was left-handed, which made a spar awkward, and he didn't know what would happen inside his head if he injured someone. The Crawler's influence was lessened, but not gone.

His preferred style of sword seemed rather uncommon, so he had a plain, common longsword, and he was learning on a training dummy what movements might work and what didn't. He paused, thinking he might get a drink of water, but his attention was caught by the light when he let go of the sword. The ache was radiating up his arm -- he'd overworked it, and that was making it worse. He stared into the light, wondering if he might see through it.

Cut it off, hissed the Crawler's sibilant voice. It won't hurt anymore, and it is no use to you. You don't need to fight. You're tainted, broken. Let the blade fall, let all of the blades fall...

He clenched his hand tight, then picked up the sword again and began swinging almost frantically. The water was forgotten.

Comments

[thetyrant]

Logan's left hand was working, clenching and flexing on nothing as he stood there. "I will rest when I'm tired," he said, some small twist in his tone making it sound like he was agreeing. He picked up the sword again, and there was a brief moment where he seemed confused about what to do with it, looking between it and his hand. He shook his head a little and took hold of the sword in his left hand, holding it tightly. "I appreciate your concern," he said again, bowing his head to her just slightly.

[marilaine]

She wasn't sure if he was trying to dismiss her or not with his polite phrased appreciation, but she knew better than to pick a fight with someone who was used to authority--and he certainly seemed to carry some authority with him.

"It is if you say you are ser. I'll not trouble you further." Shrugging lightly, she moved back to the water bucket and dropped the ladle into it. Then glancing back over him one last time, she looked as if to say something, then shook her head, muttering under her breath: "Nobles."