faderift | open | brain heat meme

Entry tags:

open | brain heat meme

WHO: Anyone
WHAT: Nightmares, slumber parties, etc.
WHEN: Throughout Justinian
WHERE: Kirkwall and surrounding areas
NOTES: Ignore the first prompt if you're bothered by bugs. Also, while this is primarily to help people RP about their nightmares, feel free to use it for any kind of RP you want. (I.e., you have permission to set up a truth or dare game at the slumber party.) Talk about dreams OOC over here

This month, our heroes' sleep is getting more and more troubled. Here are some excuses to write about it.

I. SLUMBER PARTY: Mid-month, an infestation of hardy, prolific Antivan fleas requires everyone to avoid spending prolonged periods of time in their bedrooms while local alchemist Lloyd Meyers eradicates the bugs with his proprietary smoke bombs (and an equally proprietary flea bath for the Gallows' many pets). While the rooms air out for two or three nights post-treatment, bed rolls are available on the floor of the unstaffed dining hall. Sleeping outside in the courtyards is also an option, but a sudden squall of a thunderstorm will drive people inside on the second night.

Footnote: Characters who live in the city are welcome to join this slumber party anyway. Maybe they miss the ferry ashore, maybe they're afraid of tracking fleas into their own homes, maybe they already did track fleas into their homes and Lloyd is treating them too, etc.

II. ROOM SHARE: Does the thought of sleeping in the dining hall with all of your coworkers make you break out in hives? Have you missed the ferry on any other evening of the month? Lowtown has inns, and Riftwatch has a docks-side warehouse with a few side rooms outfitted as bedrooms. But there are only so many rooms available, so you might wind up sharing a room (or a bed) with a friend or whoever is nearby and desperate.

III. CAT NAP: A lack of sleep—whether it be from the nightmares, the workload, routine insomnia, or staying up too late playing Truth or Dare during the Antivan Flea Incident—might make a cat nap on a desk, in a reading nook, or over breakfast particularly appealing. And bad dreams don't need more than a few minutes to get rolling.

IV. CAMP OUT: Investigating reports of enemy scouts in the mountains, traveling along the roads to a neighboring city-state on a diplomatic errand, looking into reports of weird magic on the Wounded Coast, or heading north to provide some assistance to the war effort? All might require pitching a tent and bunking down for the night with your colleague, whether you like them or loathe them.

V. NORMAL NIGHT: If you’re already sharing a room or bed with someone, you don't need this post. But you can still use it for your nightmare threads.

VI. BETTER IDEA: Do whatever you want. Live your dreams.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's not uncommon these days to catch people dozing in the library, and so long as they don't get too violent on waking or scream too loudly, Mobius is content to allow it. It isn't that the sleep is any more restful this way. But it's spacious and quiet. He's been keeping a spare blanket tucked under the desk in case of his own naps in the times he can feel them coming while here.

This time, he brings it over to Ellie. She's finally gotten herself awake. And she looks like she's trying to suck in every last drop of air in the building.

Wordlessly, he drapes it over her shoulders, leaves his hands there as a solid and very real and not at all dreamt up weight.

Sometimes, it's kindness that can seep into a fault line, widen the cracks until everything breaks apart.

She doesn't see him coming. But she feels the warmth of the blanket as it sweeps over her, down around her shoulders. It's safe, comforting, not quite a hold, and she manages to catch a full breath. It lodges in the back of her throat, then, Mobius lays his hands on her shoulders.

The weight is real. And in the twilight of a nightmare, coming back to reality, the ghosts are all so close.

And it feels like Joel.

Ellie turns to put her forehead on her folded arms on the library table, and cracks right down the middle.

She sobs aloud, like her heart is breaking.

It...maybe should have been something he expected. Maybe he should've thought this one through. Come from the front or the side, in view. Said something. He's not thinking straight. He's made a mistake, made it worse.

It's a few long moments before the thoughts finally turn into further action, and he lifts his hands. Feeling awkward. She might not be receptive to an apology at this very moment, though. So he scoots out a chair next to her and sits. There. Existing. And will still be there when she's done.

Maybe someday, he'll realize that it was exactly the right thing to do.

The storm is intense, but it does pass, leaving Ellie taking deep, slow breaths, shivering now and again as she gets the last of it out. She's been building to this for a while, and he just happened to be there, to touch the right place.

Ellie wipes her face on her sleeve a few times, cleaning herself up, then lays her cheekbone against her dry sleeve, turning her head to look at him. The blanket is still settled across her shoulders.

The warmth, now, is from her. Maybe there's something in that.

"Thanks," she whispers, faintly embarrassed.

Someday, when he's not running on the same lack of good sleep as everyone else. Maybe even later, when it all catches up to him. Right now, it seems like a mistake. (But it also seemed like the right thing to do. He's too tired for this shit.)

That she thanks him, at least, eases some of the tension. And he reaches to her again, rubs her back through the blanket.

"Looked like you needed it. You don't have to keep it all in."

He wants to ask something like are you doing okay, but given circumstances, it's inane chatter and nothing more. So he doesn't. No one is doing okay.

The way her expression crumbles a little at the edges when he rubs her back? Easily gives away the reason for the tears.

For once, she's grateful that she's told someone what happened. She doesn't have to explain.

"Yeah, I know. I know. Cry it out and... all that." Ellie knuckles that last of the tears away, sniffs, and looks down at her folded hands. Gives a slow sigh. The rubbing does help.

"He used to do that," Ellie confesses. She doesn't know why. Maybe just because of the ghosts still so close. Because she needs to remember something other than what she was dreaming about. Because she feels like she owes Mobius an explanation for losing her shit over nothing.

"Joel. I'd fall asleep at my desk sometimes. Reading. Sketching. He used to say it was too cold out in the damn garage for me to be doing that."

She reaches up, grips at the shoulder, pulls the blanket more securely around her.

This is becoming habit. And, having never been a father(-figure) before, he doesn't really know how to take it. Clearly putting Mobius in that role, even subconsciously, seems to make her--

Not happy. Calmer? Sure. Go with that.

Grief is a complicated thing, and that he helps her in some ways with that is gratifying. And she didn't tell him to stop, or go away, didn't snap or seem to not appreciate it. Still, there's a little furrow between his brows. "I'm not doing it on purpose. Obviously." Obviously he didn't know. It's not like he's going to stop treating her the way he thinks to treat her unless she says something.

'Sounds like he loved you' is an option to say. But does it need said? The man was practically a father to her. It's apparent even from what Mobius has learned. 'I'm not trying to be him' rattles around his head, too, but that sounds too harsh, and he'd already more or less phrased that thought differently.

This might be overthinking, then. His hand stays just where it is, between her shoulders, even as he stops rubbing. "You need some water, something to drink?" Something something rehydration, that's safe and looking out for her.

"I know," Ellie says quickly, a little awkwardly. She didn't mean to make it weird. A few years down the line she may be able to communicate the feeling better.

"You're not him. I don't want you to be him." Or to replace him. Nobody possibly could.

"It's just nice. Being reminded, I guess." Of the good things, the things that are still there in her bones even if they're not always on her mind. Joel's gone. She knows that. No amount of pain, or bargaining, or brief interludes in hiccups of reality will ever change that.

It's nice to realize that not all of the memories have to be painful.

But she doesn't know how to say that, so instead she scrubs her hand across her face, gives him a half-smile that she hopes is encouraging.

"Sure. Thanks."

Being reminded is nice. He accepts that with a little relaxed slump of his shoulders, tiny nod. Remembering the dead fucking sucks, and the nightmares that like to dredge up bad memories or twist around better ones don't make it any better.

Sometimes remembering the good instead is so much harder.

"Okay. Be right back." He makes to stand, shuffles off to fetch said water, but he catches himself on the end of the table. "If you nod off again, I'll let you sleep until it looks like you need a hand to wake you up again."

Sometimes sleep can go without dreams, when it's too light to quite reach the emerald waters of the Fade. He kind of hopes she won't have nodded off again and fall back into wherever she was, whatever terrible thing she was remembering or imagining up. She's not too young for this, he knows, but to him, a lot of these not-kids are just kids.

Right. Drink. He better get on that.

Ellie watches Mobius shuffle off, settling her cheekbone on her arm, wiping at the remnants of tears on her face. Miraculously, she does feel a little better. Slightly more clearheaded, even if she's still exhausted.

They all are.

She tries to remember the last time she saw Mobius sleep. The shadows smudged under his eyes are darker, deeper. He worries more, seems less sure of himself.

It doesn't seem fair.

She's dozing when he returns, but her eyes blink open at the quiet sound of his footsteps. With the side of her boot, she knocks the chair next to her, scooting it out just a little bit.

"How are you holding up?"

He tries very hard not to focus on his failings, on the places he slows down, the uncertainty creeping in because he hasn't had enough sleep to be sure of his every action anymore. Because that leads down the rabbit hole: this is what it will be like, when the lyrium finally takes its toll. He won't be as sure. He'll be slower on the uptake. He'll lose track of time. He will get worse.

There is no reason, a treacherous voice in his mind suggests, that he can't be losing himself due to nightmares and losing himself to lyrium at the very same time.

So he focuses on those around him instead. No big deal to bring Ellie a mug of water and one for himself. He knows she won't frustrate him, that he won't get snappy at her. And even though she's nodding again, she isn't deep enough to sleep yet. He settles into the offered up seat, slides the drink over, takes a sip himself. It's not a waking shock of ice water, alas. And he kind of wishes it was something a lot stronger.

"Think getting blackout drunk would give a good night's sleep?" is what comes out of his mouth, running along with that thread of thought. Which conveniently also serves as an answer to her question in some way. "Let's all go back to Antiva."

The water's cool, tastes like the well. It gives the both of them something to do with their hands, and eases the ache in her head that always comes with crying.

Ellie snickers under her breath, lifts the mug to clink it lightly against his, takes another ship.

"I think you'd regret it even more in the morning," she says truthfully. Even she's starting to not be able to shake off hangovers like she used to.

"But maybe you're onto something there. Even with all the assassination attempts, I slept better."

If they can crack wise about it, they'll be okay. Or maybe it's the mania that sets in after going without sleep.

"Then there's a reason to keep drinking in the morning." Joking is better than wallowing. Better than being on a hair trigger and being at each others throats. He likes a drink as much as the next person, but he's only got room for one crippling addiction in his life at the moment, thanks.

"One of them tried to drown me, and I still slept better."

He says it so casually, in response to the assassination thing, that he almost forgets. That one of the reasons he had hesitated so much to Ellie's confession, what happened to her fingers, with Abby, was because of the fresh memory. He--waves it off. "I had backup. Had help. It wasn't so much that he held me under as he got caught dragging me off and dumped me in a canal after knocking me silly so he could try and get away. The point is, Antiva was a good time, and I think we all forgot what it was like here."

Ellie sputters laughter into the water, has to put it down before it comes out of her nose, has to wipe her mouth.

"I can't believe somebody tried to snatch you," Ellie manages to force out though gasping laughter. She can just picture it- and she can laugh about an attempted kidnapping attempt because she's been through that shit more than once. After the first handful it just starts being fucking rude.

"Man, I just got poisoned and watched Fenris tear a dude's heart out." Two separate instances but hey.

"Who was your knight in shining armor?"

Edited 2022-06-27 22:30 (UTC)

"To be fair," as though one should ever be fair to an assassin, "we were out in a market, and it's easier if it seems like you're helping a friend who's had too much to drink off the street instead of just slitting them out in the open."

He is glad he missed the heart-tearing, though. That...takes some very powerful gauntlets, he imagines? Mobius makes a face even at the brief description. "Messy," with a little awed shake of his head. No thanks. Just stab a guy like everyone else, okay?

"Barrow was with me. Running some errands. Big guy, good guy. Trust him." Trust him with a secret, certainly, because he knows and understands. Might not agree with Mobius' decision to keep it under wraps, but it's...complicated. It's complicated, and if it blows up in his face later, then it blows up.

Ellie nods- at both assessments, no less. The whole time in Rialto was a time. She sits back, tilting her head to one side to listen, and her face softens the second Mobius says Barrow's name.

"Barrow's always been good to me," she says with conviction. They've had little reason to cross paths, but he's always the one ready for a smile or a joke, and even if some people didn't trust him because of his past, Ellie does.

It's easy to be wrong. To hurt people. It's harder to own it, and decide to do something else.

But that's not hers to get into. And if Mobius doesn't know, she's not going to bring up Barrow's business.

"I'm glad he was with you. He's a good guy to have at your back. Or-"

She gestures at Mobius. At that entire situation.

"Were you wearing your armor when you went in?"

"Yeah? Good. He's a good man that doesn't deserve the treatment he gets."

Ellie, as a Rifter, shouldn't have to know or care about Templars. That doesn't...mean he wants to get into it. Astarion only knows out of necessity. Barrow knows because he knows.

"No, no armor; we were just out and about, so I wasn't making a show of armor or any of that. Snuck up from behind, gave me a lump, so I wasn't all there. Thank the Maker, I would've sunk like a rock, and I--uh." He rubs the back of his head more from a bit of embarrassment than from remembering said lump. "I also don't know how to swim. Which...I should fix."

Ellie stares at him, everything else falling away as she zeroes in on that one point. She's not sure why it's so shocking to her. Maybe because it's Thedas, maybe because she feels that she had an excuse growing up, but if he's going to be thrown of a dock and into the water-

"You don't know how to swim?"

...Is that weird, that can't be weird, why is she looking at him like that-- "Never needed to learn. I haven't been on or around water that much. If a river or lake needs crossed, then use a bridge, or there's a boat for it. The ferry's the most often I've ever been on water, and the ship to Antiva's the first I've actually been out on the open ocean."

Which, when he thinks about it: "I do want to learn now that I've been out there. I liked the journey over."

Ellie's actually laughing now, all of it bubbling up in her chest, feeling good. Ugh, she needed this. How come she needed this?

"City boy," she says, fondly derogatory. A pause, and then: "I didn't learn until I was a teenager. Pick a time. I'll teach you."

He can't even argue. City boy he is, from Starkhaven, Ostwick, to--well, before that doesn't matter. At least it's gentle fun she's making. Nothing he'll get upset about. Her laughter even gets a cough of a chuckle out of him as he leans back, rubs at the short growth of stubble he hasn't yet shaved off at his chin.

"Seems like a necessary skill to you, huh? Guess now that I'm spending a lot more time on the water, probably should know at least a little."

"It wasn't, back in Boston. They never let us near the ocean."

Ellie pulls a smile on, shrugging her shoulders. It seems like such an oversight, looking back.

"But once you start adventuring there's a lot of places you can't get to unless you swim. Joel used to push me around on a fucking pallet if we could find one. No offense, but I don't think I could do that with you."

"I think if we ever got to that point, I'd be calling the adventure quits and going home. So...yeah, guess I can swallow some pride and let a kid teach an oldtimer to swim around." He looks, though, really looks at her with his Observing stare. But if he's divining anything off her at this point, he's not saying. Just smiles stupid instead. "Babyface."

"You bet," she tries to say, but then he comes out with that. Ellie chokes a little on her water, but then he makes eye contact and she chokes again, this time laughing into her poor, damp sleeve. Rude rude rude.

She gives him her most innocent smile back, but even that can't really remove the cheek in her eyes. She lets what was once a mischievous kid peek out, just a little, caught behind the sharp edges and real warmth.

"Nobody ever expects the innocent little girl," she quips, but by her tone, it's been both a long source of frustration and something that has absolutely saved her ass.

"Innocent my ass." He playfully ruffles her hair. "That's a look of pure trouble if I've ever seen it. A real hellion, out to give everyone grey hairs."

Don't think about how she probably was an innocent little girl, before her fucked up world turned her into someone who's dealt with far too much far too young. This is a moment of joy in a joyless time, and he'll hold onto that.

library's open for snoozing apparently

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject