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sticksandbones2025-03-05 10:07 pm
bajamutblast) wrote in sticksandbones2025-03-05 10:07 pm
A Moment Sat With Our Sentencing
Who: Dion, Clive, and Joshua
What: Someone has a nightmare, whuh oh
When: Some time after bar log and other nonsense
Where: The Inn
Warnings: Death, dying, and all that fun FFXVI stuff.
[Dion is no stranger to vivid dreams. In the days that followed his own brutal attack on Twinside, his mind had been wracked with the replay of what had happened. With each passing night, he was helpless to reliving each and every scream he had drawn out from the people he had so desperately tried to protect. Running from them had done nothing, nor had seeing the wreckage for himself. The dreams kept coming night after night.
Not that they were unfamiliar, even then. He had been on the battlefield for well over a decade by this point. The horrors of war and battle plagued him even in his early manhood. The only difference was that he could not justify these deaths.
Tonight, however, is different. He dreams not of his early battles, nor his betrayals, but of the yawning expanse of Origin. Only this time, it is not his body that falls. Ultima ignores him, an any flares Dion fires off seem to glance off of him. It leaves Dion helpless to watch as both the Phoenix and Ifrit are stricken from the air, plummeting toward the ground.
Try though he might, his wings are not fast enough to save him.
When Dion wakes, he finds himself drenched in sweat. He throws himself from his bed, grabbing his lance not as a weapon, but to help him hobble. His body is often sore and stiff after waking anymore, and so he leans heavy on it as he makes his way from his own room and through the inn. So rushed is he, that he doesn’t bother to throw on his shirt. The bandages cover up most everything anyway.
Finding the brother’s room takes longer than he would like, but before long, he is pounding on the door. There’s urgency to it, and he won’t stop until someone opens it.]
What: Someone has a nightmare, whuh oh
When: Some time after bar log and other nonsense
Where: The Inn
Warnings: Death, dying, and all that fun FFXVI stuff.
[Dion is no stranger to vivid dreams. In the days that followed his own brutal attack on Twinside, his mind had been wracked with the replay of what had happened. With each passing night, he was helpless to reliving each and every scream he had drawn out from the people he had so desperately tried to protect. Running from them had done nothing, nor had seeing the wreckage for himself. The dreams kept coming night after night.
Not that they were unfamiliar, even then. He had been on the battlefield for well over a decade by this point. The horrors of war and battle plagued him even in his early manhood. The only difference was that he could not justify these deaths.
Tonight, however, is different. He dreams not of his early battles, nor his betrayals, but of the yawning expanse of Origin. Only this time, it is not his body that falls. Ultima ignores him, an any flares Dion fires off seem to glance off of him. It leaves Dion helpless to watch as both the Phoenix and Ifrit are stricken from the air, plummeting toward the ground.
Try though he might, his wings are not fast enough to save him.
When Dion wakes, he finds himself drenched in sweat. He throws himself from his bed, grabbing his lance not as a weapon, but to help him hobble. His body is often sore and stiff after waking anymore, and so he leans heavy on it as he makes his way from his own room and through the inn. So rushed is he, that he doesn’t bother to throw on his shirt. The bandages cover up most everything anyway.
Finding the brother’s room takes longer than he would like, but before long, he is pounding on the door. There’s urgency to it, and he won’t stop until someone opens it.]
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It is a strange comfort, to know that I am not alone.
[He isn't surprised in the slightest. Clive had been a slave underneath the boot of Dion's own country for so long, and Joshua had been... doing whatever it was that he was doing. Dion wasn't abundantly clear on that. Either way, it's clear that Dion isn't the only one at a loss. Maybe it feels a little foolish, now, to think that he's so emotional when the brothers seem more composed. Still, even he can acknowledge that they've had a bit more practice.
Even if Dion isn't wholly aware of his own proximity at the moment, some part of him still manages to be grateful that Joshua goes to such lengths not to disturb him. The cup is accepted, and though he does sit up for a moment to avoid slurping in Joshua's ear, he finds that it's just as easy to settle back down. And while it might be the power of thought, Dion does find that the tea relaxes him.]
Thank you, then. For your offerings. Your kindness. Your understanding. You have both been far kinder to me than I ever would have thought myself deserving.
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Torgal says you have him too, and that he's a very good cuddler.
[ The wolfs tail wags, Clive shaking his head a little to the wolf. He snorts softly to Dion, tilting his head back... arms folding again. Listen it's the best position to be in when you need to rest. ]
We forget we're deserving of it as much as anyone else. We focus on our own failings and the burdens we bare. Until someone comes along and punches sense into us.
[ He tilts his head a little to give Joshua a bit of a smile around Dion. ]
Luckily for you, I'm far nicer than my brother.
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Clive's words make Joshua blink, tilting his head to look at his brother behind Dion. What is he-- oh. The rest of Clive's words catch up with his wandering mind, and he snorts softly. ]
One time, Clive. It was one time. And, might I add, my hand was sore for hours afterward.
[ He wouldn't do it again. Not unless it was a dire necessity, and even then, he'd be hesitant. He sits forward again, taking a sip of his tea, and then settling back to bear the weight of Dion's leaning once more. ]
You weren't there to hear it when I told my brother before, but the battle we have waged... We have fought long and hard for the right to deny our fate as Dominants, and in coming here, we have that right. We can do with our lives what we choose, not what fate dictates for us. And you deserve that right just as much as any of us.
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But - wait a second.
Dion can barely mask his bewilderment. He nearly finds himself spitting his tea back into his cup. Glancing between Clive and Joshua, he forces himself to swallow before leaning back to stare at them both with incredulity.]
Did you say the Phoenix punched you?
[Look, he knows the man is a capable fighter, he wouldn't be alive if that weren't the case. But never once has he struck Dion as someone to throw a punch.
The good news, though, is that he at least settles back in. And though he is a bit more conscious of his movements now, the warmth and comfort of Joshua's form calls him in. Since there hasn't been a single complaint thus far, he lets himself ease closer once again.
It's fine. Don't worry about it.]
You say that, and yet I still feel the call to do as I have always done. If that wretch who pretends to be divine continues to threaten us, then what else can I do but lift my lance and take to the field once more?
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[ He spots that lean and tries not to smirk... no, fuck it, it's 3am and he's smirking. It could be about being knocked on his ass, or it could be because Dion is leaning in to his brother like Torgal leans when he desires a hug. His eyes flick up to Joshua, he arches an eyebrow, then looks away to keep his smirk from turning into a grin.
But his tail thuds heavier against the bed, betraying his amusement, the spikes flaring a bit. ]
For that, we're all on board. You still won't be alone. We're all fighting against it, and we recently came off an attack on it. We failed but we learned enough that next time will be better.
[ He touches the large, ugly scar on his chest. Made by something with a beak large enough to open his entire chest in one hard rip. He shakes his head. ]
We'll always feel that call. But Joshua is right. The difference is the fact we choose to answer it. And, in those moments where there is nothing, then we are free to do nothing. To simply rest, and stretch our hands out to our friends.
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[ He sees that eyebrow arch, Clive. But he says nothing, because the lean is... It's something precious. Dion clearly feels comfortable, and he isn't about to call the man on it. But all the same, due to it being so early in the morning and sleep still vaguely clinging to his mind, he finds it incredibly difficult to keep himself from matching the lean.
He manages, but only just.
As Clive touches the scar on his chest, however, Joshua glances away. It is still difficult to look at, knowing that his body caused the wound. If only he could heal a scar away... ]
We are not bound by the will of another. Only our own. There are no schedules, no orders to follow, no protocols or responsibilities but the ones we choose. We could stay in bed and sleep all day, should we decide to do so, with no repercussions.
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Regardless, he can tell that whatever has happened, neither man wants to talk about it. He can respect that by not pressing, even if a silent note is made to kill whatever beast inflicted such a wound.
(Haha, he doesn't know)]
I'll admit... I cannot remember a day that I slept past sunrise in the last decade. [A half-smile is cracked, before a yawn abruptly breaks it. Speaking of sleep...]
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[ The yawn makes Clive set his jaw in a clench so he doesn't return it and instead push himself up to his feet. ]
Would you like to stay the night?
[ He's already moving over to the couch to push Torgal off, and strip the blankets to toss them to the floor, before getting new ones from the small linen cabinet. Thankfully the wolf wasn't on the sheets, so they're still clean. And the fresh blankets can be set on top.
It's clear he's making it up for Dion to take, and if it wasn't, it becomes obvious when Clive moves over to join Torgal with the wolf fur covered blankets to flop into the floor. Torgal is delighted, and allows himself to be used as a pillow. Clive only gets one (1) slobbery lick to the ear. ]
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[ Especially when you find yourself up all night. Or waking up in the middle of the night, as is the case here. Joshua doesn't doubt that the sun will have long since been up by the time any of them truly climb out of bed, should the tea have its desired effect.
And it certainly seems to be, with Dion yawning as he is. It takes all he can muster to prevent himself from yawning, too, but watching Clive fuss around helps to distract him a little. Despite it sounding like a question, he's clearly not waiting for an answer, is he? ]
You can have the bed, Dion. With your injuries, you shouldn't risk sleeping on anything else.
[ He is fully prepared to take the couch, since Clive has clearly given it up for a Torgal pillow. ]
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And somehow, Dion doesn't hate that. He's used to not having a choice, but this is different. Both men act in a way that ensures Dion's comfort, not simply his compliance. Right now, making choices still feels foreign, especially when they might yet put another in a difficult position.
Really, he appreciates it more than he can put into words.]
If you both insist, I suppose I have no choice of it. Not that I feel I will sleep any time soon. [Yes, his body is tired, but the shadows of his nightmare yet linger at the fringes of his mind.]
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So keep talking.
[ Something soldiers would do, late at night, when minds wont silence. When the body is exhausted but the horrors of the day linger. Their future, their hopes, dreams. Jokes. Loves or lack there of. Clive reaches up to scratch Torgals head as it curls over his shoulder, his eyes closing comfortably. ]
Worst food you've ever had. Not carrots, Joshua.
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In the meantime, they will finish their tea, and Joshua will revel in a fleeting and selfish comfort. ]
Eliminating carrots makes it difficult.
[ He wrinkles his nose, but then hums softly, thinking. ]
... the cakes that we sometimes had during the winter. The ones filled with dried fruits. Something about the taste of them always reminded me of my medicine.
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The tea helps, in a way. The fact that he has to keep the cup balanced gives him a task to focus on.]
I know what you refer to. They were... far from pleasant. [His nose wrinkles.] However, I have to disagree. On rare occasion, my father would request snails for us to partake in. The texture alone was... unpleasant.
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[ Sure, a few of them could have been used to replace brick in the Castle but the taste wasn't hideous. He arches an eyebrow to the disagree, then opens his eyes to stare incredulously at Dion from his spot on the floor. ]
Snails.
[ As in, the thing that the gardeners would eradicate vehemently from the Castle gardens? Clive tries to imagine them eaten and just can't. He closes his eyes again and lifts his hand in defeat. ]
I'm not even going to try to top that.
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Your father ate snails.
[ He recalls seeing them in the garden. Small, slimy things that hid within their shells. Barely enough to be a taste, let alone a bite, and considered a pest. And they ate them. ]
I cannot imagine-- How were they cooked?
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[He trails off, shuddering viscerally. When he notices the violence of the movement, he glances up toward Joshua, apologetically. He doesn't move any further, though. He's content like this, especially when he lifts his cup for the final drag of tea.
So much for his excuse to stay awake...]
Still, though, I would like to know what disgusts you, Clive. The rest of us have shared our secrets.
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[ Thanks for that very disgusting mental image, Dion, Clive going to have nightmares now of that. He sighs, distraught, from around Torgal's neck. The question makes him fall silent, thoughtful and a little hesitant. There's nothing really - wait, no. A particularly disgusting dish from the Hideaway comes to mind. ]
Scorpion tail.
[ Sure, the after taste in the end was good but the initial going down. Of course he had to try it at some point. And he'll never do so again. ]
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[ Founder, the things these two have eaten. Joshua wrinkles his nose, looking down into his cup of tea. Not much left of it, but that isn't a bad thing. There is plenty in his system now, and Dion should be finished, too. ]
The things the two of you mentioned are in entirely different leagues than mine. Cakes, in comparison...
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To Clive, though, he makes a face.]
I daresay you are the winner here. [The sauce served with his snails was at least somewhat palatable. He can't imagine how one might serve a scorpion tail in any appealing way.]
Make no mistake, though. The cakes which you describe were awful. Though I would expect no less than someone so vehemently opposed to carrots, of all things.
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[ He smirks a little from the floor, tail thumping softly - which gets Torgals going as well so please ignore twin wagging going on - and snorts softly. And he sees you, Dion, leaning against his brother like that.
It's cute. It makes him vaguely feel like he's intruding, so he closes his eyes. Maybe he didn't need to offer anyone the couch.
Maybe, for once, he can use his actual room? ]
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His heart trills in his chest, but he dare not speak of it. Instead, he hides his face in his cup, and perhaps - just perhaps - leans into Dion as well.
But hiding his face in his tea only lasts until he registers what Clive is saying, and he grimaces. ]
Oh, Founder. Yvan. I should have known. I overheard the man talking about a recipe for something that involved morbol vines.
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[The name sounds familiar, but only distantly so. There had been a flurry of random names thrown about when he arrived in the Hideaway. Only precious few had truly registered. Charon stands out, same as the woman herself. And he would never live it down if he forgot the name Mid.
But no. Yvan's face and claims escape him. Probably for the best, from the sounds of it.]
You truly are an odd bunch. [He says it of both the brothers and those they call family. It's a fond tone, through and through.
That being said, there is something of a drowsy note to his tone. It was just as he feared, without a cup to focus on holding upright, he was bound to fade fast.]
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[ Clive smiles a little as Joshua remembers, and chuckles softly to Dion in return, shaking his head. ]
A man who was trying to revive meals from the Fallens time. And many of us wish quite wish he'd have left them there.
[ He hears the note in Dions voice, and knows his brother will be tired as well again. He hesitates. He's not slept alone since he got here, yet there's a feeling of awkwardness, a feeling of intrusion, if he were to stay. He knows neither would chase him out and would argue, in fact, he stay but.
He's not blind to the lean. To the way his brothers eyes light up. And he trusts Dion with his brother's life.
He's not brooding, he's contemplating fiercely. Finally pushes himself up to stand, finding his shirt and pulling it on. Another good thing about trimming down his damn horns. ]
You two get some sleep. I'm going to take Torgal for a walk, I think. I can't get snails and scorpion tails out of my head now.
[ Torgal is instantly standing and moving to the door, hell yes. ]
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His brother making a move for clothing makes him pause, though, glancing at Clive with a slight tilt of his head in question. But he realizes quickly what he is doing, with that explanation. Or, at least, what it feels like to him. ]
Mm. Be careful, then. Make certain that you keep an eye out for any lingering signs of the brand. Wake me when you return - I will give you the couch.
[ Then, he turns his attention to Dion, who is warm at his side but clearly fading, and his voice drops to a soft murmur. ]
May I help you into the bed?
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I did not intend to kick you from your own quarters. [Look, he knows it isn't technically Clive's room, but it's close enough.] If anyone ought to leave, it's me.
[It's only seconds after he's spoken that he realizes Joshua had also spoken. Thanks, he'll be remembering that quiet tone for a long time to come. Just, you know, after he stops feeling so bad about it.]
I did not mean to cause such a disruption to everyone's habits.
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