there is stardust on your hands and a battlefield in your eyes

[apostasia]

WHO: Martel Leblanc + Cassandra Pentaghast.
WHAT: Martel has a bad dream.
WHEN: Uhhh recently.
WHERE: Skyhold.
NOTES: Contains nudity, the horrible contents of Martel's psyche, poorly handled interpersonal interaction.

Martel jerks awake.

It feels that sudden, to him - the hard stone of Zemoch's temple to the soft warmth of his bed, of Cassandra beside him - but it isn't, not when he's slept fitfully beside her for hours now, bitten off murmurings that had not spoken to any sweet sort of dream, his disturbed sleep a ready explanation for his usual reluctance to doze off beside her. There is no rest in it, tension winding him so tight that he's a coiled spring exploding, alert but not yet present where he is, his hands searching out weapons that he -

prudently

- has never kept so close to his bed when he has even the slightest expectation someone else might be with him when he wakes. He lands cat-footed when he rolls from the bed, and - swears, curving in toward himself, eyes pressed shut in pain. Unprecedented levels of Martel's willingness to let someone else lead had allowed Cassandra more or less free rein that had, mostly, meant 'taking great care not to strain Martel's still-healing body'; in the first few seconds of consciousness out of his dream, he very nearly undoes all the good work of being careful and he can feel his healing skin pull, his breath catch.

It is unlikely she's slept through this. It'd be nice, but it's unlikely.