❪ event ❫ hour of ruin

[natha]

HOUR OF RUIN     Sometime after midnight, after preparations have been put aside in favor of drinks and rest, a thunderous beating of wings shatters the air — the High Dragon Ysverai, once again risen. The sound echoes high off Namarak Mountain, but travels easily to both Wyver and Olympia: scream after scream rends the still night, as though a creature were dying rather than being born again. Having only had days to plan their defense against the creature, Olympia and Wyver snatch up their arms. The Royal Guard and the Knightryders can be seen on their steeds hurrying through the cities, because Ysverai doesn't remain isolated at the mountain's peak for long. There are pictures of Ysverai in abundance throughout both cities, but the creature that circles in the sky looks nothing like the majestic creature spoken of in history books. Even from far below, wounds and lacerations can be seen marring what should be smooth scales, and blood falls with every beat of the dragon's wings. The damage becomes more clear when moonlight illuminates Ysverai, revealing the rotting dragon for all to see. The sight of flesh peeling away and thick blood where it oozes from his cracked, greyish hide is as frightening as the power he possesses. REASON'S TRANSCENDENCE     Mad from the anguish of his forced revival, Ysverai will show none of his renowned wisdom or compassion, mindless and seeking to inflict his pain onto whatever emerges in his path. His very presence creates chaos: animals (Olympia | Wyver) domesticated and wild, flee from the merest hint of his approach, panicked and stampeding in wild droves. The reason is obvious: organic matter exposed too long to his presence begins to rot and decay. A field he lands in rots and lies fallow. Buildings crack and crumble, their supports pitted and corroded as though they've been left in disrepair for years. Even the ground that Ysverai walks upon is tainted; a corrosive sludge bubbles up in his massive, clawed footsteps, the ground beneath him putrefied and toxic, oozing corruption. This sludge can be tar-like, poisonous and sucking people in like quicksand; panic, and you'll only sink faster. Prolonged exposure to Ysverai takes a mental toll on anyone in his proximity as well. Effects similar to those from being near his heart — selfish desires and lowered inhibitions — will begin to fester in those around him. Every time Ysverai roars, pain will run through all those that hear him — a pain not just physical, but of true, anguished heartbreak. Those who hear Ysverai will feel (to a degree of your choosing) a sharing of his pain, the agony of flesh rotting from their bodies, blood oozing from under their skin, and a terrible, incandescent fury — and beneath that, a gut-wrenching sadness. This effect is further enhanced by any exposure to Ysverai's blood, and being drenched in greater quantities will cause one to become more in sync with the dragon. Finally, Ysverai is aggressive, attacking anyone and anything that approaches. He starts by breathing out a smog, acidic and putrefying — characters caught directly by this attack will find that medicine and healing magic of any kind hurts them for hours after exposure. The dragon will ignite the smog to breathe fire, if sparingly. IN WYVER     Ysverai's shadow falls over the near reaches of Wyver first. Upon hearing Ysverai's cry, the dragons in Wyver become completely frenzied, turning against their partners among the Knightryders without the slightest resistance. Those familiar with dragons might deduce that they're in pain, though they don't show any sign of injury. The dragons knock their riders off their backs in midair and dive at citizens, jaws wide. Any attempts to soothe them will be long fought, achieved with great difficulty, and will see them retreat into a cowering state. It's not just the airborne Knightryders taking to the defense of the city however, and people on the ground are mobilizing as well. On rooftops across the city are cannons set to fire harpoons. And if the spearheads alone aren't enough to injure the beast, they're coated with a paralyzing poison as well. Unfortunately, the soldiers stationed on the rooftops are prime targets to the frenzied dragons populating Wyver's skies, leaving the cannons open for ordinary citizens to use should they choose. Left alone too long, and cannons may fall under the control of the few remaining radicals that had opted not to flee the cities to join up with their leader Raysc, choosing instead to wait for an opportune moment to unleash their anger on the people of Wyver. These radicals will need to be dealt with before they can turn the cannons upon Wyver's defenders. IN OLYMPIA     In Olympia, the gryphon partners of the Royal Guard react with immediate hostility to anyone showing signs of Ysverai's influence. Their keen senses allow them to pick up the smell of Ysverai's blood and they attack anyone with so much as a drop of tainted blood on them. Those who bear lingering effects of Ysverai's mental attack and who remain in sync with the dragon after hearing Ysverai's cry are also targeted and must face the gryphons' wrath without mercy or restraint. The gryphons must be disabled, for Olympia will not look upon any injury to their prized steeds lightly. However, the gryphons also show some resistance to Ysverai's cry, which is a great boon in battle against the dragon — gryphons that have lost their riders will be available for use, able to carry two passengers at a time. The people of Olympia aren't planning to restrict their offense to pure brute force, and the mages of the city can be seen across Olympia wielding enchanted chains, using telekinesis in the hopes of restraining Ysverai and assisting in the airborne troops. But like the decaying buildings and wildlife, Ysverai is warping the magic around him, the chains faltering as they approach him, whipping back toward the city instead to cage whoever happens to be closest. It's not just the enchanted chains either, but other magic might behave erratically in his presence, as if the very essence of the spells have been corrupted. VIRTUOUS VERSE     Both cities realize they need to seek survival rather than victory against Ysverai, switching gears to carry out diversion efforts and evacuation plans. It falls to refugees to continue the offensive while the Royal Guard and the Knightryders devote their attention to ensuring the safety of the citizens as they flee. With official forces stretched thin, civilians and refugees alike will also need to step up to help herd citizens toward safety among a maze of collapsing buildings. Others will need to see to gathering resources for the evacuation, and while gathering non perishables is easy enough, it's considerably harder to wrangle livestock into cooperating amidst such chaos. Those fighting may be asked to act as bait for Ysverai. Chatter through official troops speaks of a switch in strategy: the objective now is capture the dragon's attention and draw him away from the populous cities and towards the South Outpost. Whether or not it's possible to defeat the dragon remains uncertain, but there's no question that it will be easier to battle him without worrying about civilians. THE RAGE     Luckily, the dragon is indiscriminate in his rage, and easily lured so long as a suitably infuriating target is before him. It doesn't take long to draw him to the South Outpost, but the trail of destruction he leaves in his wake is vast. Once there, the combined forces are greeted not just by Ysverai, but also by the appearance of Ysverai's master. How bravely you've all come to meet your doom! Great heroes, one and all, ha! I welcome you, bring your best. Show me the power that's protected Olympia and Wyver, all that you have to offer me, whatever pitiful excuse for valor you seek to cling to when the fear has you cowering in your beds. All will be for naught in the face of Ysverai's might! Let history witness the day the glory of war is reignited — the day that Wyver remembers its fangs once more! Come, Ysverai, last and greatest of the High Dragons! Come, and restore Wyver to its rightful place! Come, fulfill the promise as our protector that you could not in life! Raysc lifts a gleaming device as he issues his command. Red lights blink and blood, the same oozing liquid that drips from Ysverai's many wounds, runs in clear tubes through the device. Ysverai rears back as Raysc makes adjustments to a control panel — and then lunges forward, mouth agape. With a single swallow, Raysc meets his end. Raysc's attempt to control the dragon has only enraged him further, spurring Ysverai on to new heights of fury. It's become more vital than ever to face the dragon and take him down here and now. A few effective strategies are learned from research efforts and observed while defending Olympia and Wyver: goading the dragon into breathing fire will hurt him, burning him from the inside out, and attacks to his joints, eyes, wings, and exposed bone are effective. Ice is a natural repellent to dragons and can be used defensively or to weaken the dragon's hide. Healing spells will also react unnaturally to Ysverai's flesh, hastening his decay. However, while concentrated efforts will lock him down, Ysverai cannot be permanently killed in this state — his flesh constantly rots and spawns anew. Attacking him here is to protect civilians, keeping him busy to avoid mass destruction elsewhere. Therefore, the battle is one of attrition, a matter of a race against time. You must destroy his flesh faster than it is able to regenerate to have any hope of victory. Finally, when Ysverai is weakening, little more than bones with a few last vestiges of rotten meat hanging from a skeleton, the pathetic remnants of the last High Dragon takes to the skies. His wings are barely intact enough to carry him, yet desperation lifts him, higher and higher, until he lets out one great, earth-shaking roar. A roar that carries across the battlefield, sending all who hear it to their knees. A roar that shatters the swords in soldiers' hands, that rends apart the very air itself — Ysverai's last act, a great curse upon El Nysa, to bring down the sky. AND THE WORLD STOOD STILL     The terror of Ysverai's destruction hangs overhead — a tear in the sky, darkness pouring through, tendrils reaching down towards El Nysa to swallow up the planet in the dragon's final act of revenge. And yet nothing moves. A halo of brilliant light surrounds the rift in the sky, holding the grasping, hungry tendrils in check. And on the planet, not a creature moves. Not a blade of grass stirs. You're not able to even draw a breath. No matter where you are, not even the heart in your chest is beating. Everything has stopped — time has come to a standstill. In a wash of light, an aurora of transport, you find yourself delivered to Thesa Station. Darma stands before you, her expression solemn, perhaps even grim, though that may just be a trick of the station's harsh lighting. She explains what has happened in short order: planetside, time has been completely frozen. We have seen the birth and end of worlds. The rise and fall of civilizations infinite times over. We have seen all threads of possibilities that could have lead to this very moment... Or should have. Perhaps you might doubt our sincerity when we say this comes as a surprise to us, as well... Special technology has been used to blind us. To this day, we only know of one region capable of creating and utilizing such technology... you will find this technology in a city known as Nadril. We understand that you have created a life down in Wyver and Olympia, but now we must ask that you put that life on pause. We ask you to travel to Nadril and find the original Refugee, and with him, answers. As you will discover, he does not wish to speak to us. It is no matter. By now it is too late to keep the Nysan public unaware of our existence. We commend the efforts of those who wish to protect their comrades on the battlefield below, but a creature like poor Ysverai, twisted and warped, given unnatural life with terrible magic and technology, does not simply go down with manpower. Please, leave Ysverai to us. Time on the planet will remain stopped while we determine how to deal with the dragon. For now, rest and recover your strength. We have returned, and soon, there will be new refugees awakening. Perhaps you might like to prepare yourselves to greet them? I'm sorry that I can't answer more questions, but for now, all our attention must turn to finding a way to stop what Ysverai has wrought. A bank of monitors behind Darma displays the battlefield below: Ysverai's frozen, looming figure and the breach in the sky, and the Natha's halo, holding the destruction back. Though time passes normally on Thesa Station, El Nysa remains frozen, and all Refugees are unable to return to the planet until Ysverai's menace is dealt with. Luckily, with the Natha's return, full functionality has also returned to the station. The lights and environmentals are back to full power, access to all areas has been restored, the cafeteria is serving its normal offerings, and there's no evidence of any glitching or malfunctions. Doubtless, the period of rest is much needed after the hard-fought battle. For now, with time on El Nysa at a standstill, there's little else to be done but enjoy the reprieve aboard Thesa Station. FINAL OOC NOTE     Characters that reach an AC length action thread in this event will receive 2 rep for all factions, including Natha. Note that while these are split up for ease of processing, players may submit for all three. OLYMPIA | WYVER | NATHA Players can expect this event to run three days ICly before everyone is teleported to Thesa Station! From thereon, all characters will be grounded at the Station until the Test Drive Meme later this month. QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● lore ● map ● npcs ● bestiary taken ● atp/emp ● application ● rep/acp ● quest bulletin calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

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[cassus]

[ All his bindings end up upon the floor, long forgotten in lieu of Linneus' hands. They're warm, attentive and so very present upon sensitive skin which rarely endures the sensation of contact. It's hard to restrain himself from suffering a shiver or hitch of shoulders when he's touched, but Dazai endures the whole of it without too much loss of decorum.

At least his breaths are even, not rushed or left to pour out at the sudden over stimulation. Because he feels too much all at once- vulnerable and open in ways that next to never happen. The knot of his brows, fixed with concentration as opposed to anger, says as much.

His body is a work of art, scarred throat to torso in a constellation of wounds. It conveys a story of violence eternally inscribed upon him by gutting knives and gunfire alike. Few places span more than several inches where the territory remains unmarred. More often than not the marks themselves interweave as if patterns in some strange language carved into living flesh instead of stone.

Some are small in their size, taking up scarcely any little room, though their impression likely ran towards greater depths than widths in their assault upon his flesh. ( Bullets tend to do so. ) Meanwhile others expand out across his body, the scar tissue mirroring gruesome flowers whose blooms remain marks forever fixed upon Dazai's body. ]

How's that? [ A steadying breath lifts his chest beneath Linn's hands. ] Better?

[inaurare]

Better.

[softly murmured, chasing the last of the wrappings off with his hands. He doesn't understand all of the marks - how, with what many of them were made; never came across guns before in his own world. There are so many of them, though, and his brow pinches into a frown for a moment not at the sight of them, but the extent coupled with knowledge they are all leftover reminders of things endured, things inflicted on Dazai.]

You're here.

[His words don't feel enough in this moment, but he is. After all of it - the events of the previous days, the past so intricately mapped across Dazai's own body... Dazai was still there.

One hand reaches up, slides into the man’s hair and brings him closer, secures a touch of foreheads and keeps it close with an arm around the man's waist]

…we’ll talk. In the morning when… [when he’s rested? When he’s better? He isn’t entirely sure of either of those things, or if it will even be morning, the next he wakes] …we’ll breakfast, and-- we’ll talk, maybe.

[They don't have to. Perhaps the morning might be no better, perhaps his words would still feel so little then, but it feels important to at least say. He won't go anywhere. They will still be here in the morning.]

[cassus]

I'm here.

[ Dazai allows himself to be drawn in close, nearer than people tend to be permitted to corral him. But this is Linneus, and the press of their foreheads isn't something forced by a commanding hand. If anything it gives and gives, supplying comfort in the way a drowning man is only kept afloat by the blessing of something selflessly willing to carry his weight.

Leaving their inevitable discussion for later seems to lift an unseen weight. It absolves him of solving anything on a night where he can barely find any words let alone feel anything positive stir in their wake. And it's that assurance which leaves him sighing, letting out his tension in a single breath as eyes shut against the feeling of relief. ]

Tomorrow, then...

[ Better still when he remembers that it quite nearly may have never come, had circumstances been different after the dragon's awakening. ]

That sounds like a better idea.

[ Not just good but better, more so than anything said or done which might try to force a faux resolution tonight. Linneus is wiser than him at times, certainly on matters of a human heart which needs time to heal no matter the illogical impracticality of leaving everything unsaid. Efficient as his mind his, with wants to push past his current state, there's no mending it's wounds with brute force. Only time and much needed rest can sow the seeds to recovery. ]

But for now, I think lying down would be the very best idea of all.

[ That will require that he finishes changing, but even so he loiters in Linn's hold for as long as he can. And in the place of keeping hands busy with either dismissing the rest of his attire all together or replacing it with new, his fingers card slowly through Linn's hair. ]

[inaurare]

[the way he relaxes is reassuring - the lightness, somehow, in Dazai’s weight against him. Linneus won’t judge, and won’t lay him down with meaningless platitudes. Wouldn’t, even if he had it in him to do so. They can talk about this later, or they can not. It seems so often they talk about everything else, but if there are topics they can’t manage... that’s all right, too.

Right now, simple is better. There is time for the rest - there is time.]

Clothes, then.

[Dazai still is not dressed for bed - they can at least do that. Not that Linneus is exactly dressed himself, with the hem of his shirt pooling about his mid-thighs - but it’s large; he can pass it off as a nightshirt. Perhaps not so much on Dazai but he frees up a hand to reach for the clothing set, a little tilt of his head once it’s pulled closer. Let him return the favour?]

[cassus]

[ That little gesture springs from his mouth a smile that grows and grows. It's tentative at first, while still fresh with the dawning realization of what such a subtle tilt implies. But then it's ages well, settles a little lopsided as it gets comfortable, until there's no doubt he's rather satisfied by this turn of events. He never has reason to find himself feeling smug around Linneus, of course. But had the man been anyone else, he'd surely proudly crow about how eager Linn must be to divest him from what remains of his still-soaked clothes. ]

You've taken off most of my clothes, already. So- [ A noise of consideration.] I suppose returning some to me is only fair~!

[ They can't do this with his hands in the other man's petal-pink hair, so he obediently lets go in order to hold them out for Linn. It places Dazai's scars on display in a way that should leave him self conscious or even shamed, deep down beneath all the facades he puts on. And yet, against all odds and even his own beliefs, there's none of that. Only an inner calm and comfort.

Linn knows him in ways Dazai never expected, and more so than that he accepts him, time and time again. Despite is mood swings and bad behavior or even the signs of something horrific, Linneus cares unequivocally. And he feels that in this simple little show of affection.

It's no wonder he can't stop smiling. ] Your turn, next. [ Back and forth, to and fro. Always as equals. ]

Unless you'd prefer we risk a scandal and have you sleep with me practically in the buff?

[ Okay, so he absolutely had to resort to teasing. At least it helps keep him from laughing at how absurdly pleasant the once heavy and somber moment now feels. ]

[inaurare]

[he can be steady - even in a moment like this, he can. Gentle as he draws Dazai through the shirt, untucking the hair from his collar and tidying it across his face, then dragging the other half of Dazai’s set between them.]

Practically.

[his hands returning to himself a moment, brushing the material of the shirt over his legs. It doesn’t bother him, really - the only thing he might hesitate to have displayed might be the brand on his left heel, but his thoughts aren’t even extended that far.]

But it’s enough.

The time difference between us is brutal...

[cassus]

[ There were no shivers before, but now? They run through him as nerves awaken, settling goosebumps over arms beneath his sleeves when fingers slide over his hair. It's benign, gentle and yet so wholly intimate that Dazai cannot help but feel warmth rearing up inside him like freshly kindled fire every time Linn's hands rise to touch him. ]

It certainly is. [ As a garment or enticing tease, Dazai won't way, despite the way his smile reaches dark eyes. ] But it works.

[ There's the matter of his own trousers, and once more Dazai is required to put his hands to use. But the exchange of one set for another comes quickly enough, the dampness left upon skin not a terrible concern when his priority is burrowing deeper into this moment, not fiddling with practicalities. ]

How brave of you, to trust me to be a decent man under these circumstances.

[ The task over and done with sends arms back around the other man, drawing him close enough for his head to find a perch against Dazai's chest, if he so chooses. ]

It’s a modern day Romeo and Juliet...

[inaurare]

[Perhaps later he might look back later and recognise a number of boundaries overstepped - but really, what are those behind closed doors? He will need to dress properly if he is to step out. That’s a long way off, though, and for now it’s just the two of them.]

Brave...

[or he just trusts Dazai to contain his impishness. But it may have been the slightest sound of amusement made as he settles closer, winds arms to pull him down - can they lie down now?]

Or I’m too tired for any of your wickedness.

Couldn't have said it better myself~

[cassus]

[ He'll forgive Linn's own brand of teasing, since it's entirely too endearing to try and refute. Even more so than the sake of upholding his terrible reputation, or whatever sense of 'edge' he hopes to retain around the other man, for fear of coming off too soft and disappointing when the mask dissolves. ]

Mhm. You have no idea~.

[ Dazai obliges the wordless pull guiding him to lie upon the bed, limbs tangled with Linn and vice versa. Some part of him still feels too awake, an ever active mind still intent on stirring even when the mood calls for something else. But he'll do his best to shut both eyes against the feeling, blocking out everything but the other man in his arms. ]

Well, then perhaps I'll have to save the praise for when neither of us are too tired.

[inaurare]

[a heavy sigh as they settle - a moment to stretch aches from his limbs. They will probably be worse in the morning, but right now it just feels like tiredness - and just lying down makes that feel a little better. Having company... his empty bed in Nysa had been strange, but it wasn’t as if he wanted it filled by just anyone. For him to at least have the companionship of someone he trusts in this moment...

His brow knits with his next words, an admission-]

I don’t want you to leave.

[-but his voice is hushed with what that he doesn’t say. Don’t leave me.

He doesn’t want to be left alone right now - heaven knows he’s been left too many times in his life. But he cannot make Dazai stay; he can’t ask that of him.]

But— don’t feel you have to stay. If you can’t sleep...

[cassus]

[ To say that he'd never heard those words before would be a bold faced lie. But rarely have they held any meaning, where the recipient had wanted him purely for the sake that it was Dazai. Most of those who'd asked for his company were faces he saw once or twice in his life; strangers who would have been equally needy with anyone else filling their bed, or were merely hoping for another bout of contact beneath the sheets.

True, precious few exceptions existed, although they did exist. But in numbers he didn't even need a full hand to count. Adding Linneus to this very small set feels surprisingly right, when he knows it's his company and himself that would be missed without him there. ]

I'd be a fool to leave.

[ A slow to start smile follows in the wake of hands that brush away the soft strands framing Linneus' face. It tries to offer reassurance, promises that he can't quite articulate into words in the strange aftermath of a near Armageddon and simultaneous salvation.

For now all Dazai can offer is the present, when that much is within his power to use as he sees fit. Staying is something he can do, and even wishes to. Anymore he's found that wandering through the nights all alone has lost it's appeal. ]

You don't have to worry about losing me just yet.

[ Foreheads touch as they've done before, while fingers still comb wherever they can. The words are an attempt to tease, to keep the moment lighter than it's been at it's start. But he knows Linn's concerns run deeper than he lets on, and that little can be done to shush them away besides proving what he says.

So Dazai doesn't budge from their bed, nor does he plan to tonight. ]

[inaurare]

[his brow knits a moment. Those first words are wonderful, those words, those touches to his hair (still falling back into its curls)... those are exactly what he needs right now. But, but...

...if not just yet, then when? After all, people always leave. If not right after then soon enough - whether he sees them off at the door, or they steal away in the early hours,while they think he is sleeping. Even with Xanthe, even in those rosy winter days, one of them had always had to leave first, lest they both be found out.

But it's selfish. He knows, he knows, and he knows that it wasn't what Dazai meant.]

There are others - from your home.

[no yawn to undermine his words, but tiredness runs them together a little. Chuuya and Atsushi - from the same Yokohama as Dazai. Surely it makes sense that they all look out for each other. Who is Linneus to stand against the connections Dazai has from his home world?]

[cassus]

[ Linneus doesn't need to add a long-winded monologue to explain away what lies behind those few words. They've spent time enough to read one another, to perceive between the lines, plus there's little doubt why something like the subject of others from his past come into the hush of this intimate conversation.

He knows without a doubt that Linn must have met and spoken to both people from his world. And in turn they must have mentioned Dazai, as well as their ties to him. To what extent and detail he can't perceive with just this brief mention. Still, the fact remains that Linn perceives those bonds as things which render him an outsider in comparison. ]

You're worried, aren't you?

[ It's the most careful way to approach the subject, when others would have been met with either the cruel accusation or a playful tease suggesting jealousy. Close as they are, Dazai hasn't yet seen Linneus covet things or people. Lula had been precious to him, but it's hard to compare the affection for pets to those of people with whom you grow attached. ]

You wish- [ No, that implies that he's something far less valued. ] ...You want to be the equal of people you believe to be my friends?

[ Fingers drag lower, running along Linn's arms in soothing little touches, or over the slope of his back. Ultimately all of it is to keep up their contact, which doesn't matter any less than it had at the night's beginning. ]

Which means you don't know that you're already important.

[ There's not one simple word to describe Linneus, or what he really is to Dazai besides a constant. He's an ever present and eternally fixed point in the sky for him to follow, or the rock he flings himself upon when there's no shore in sight. There's too much respect here to easily turn this into something torrid, too much genuine caring for him to be flippant about his actions. If anything, Linn is the closest thing to being 'found family' that Dazai has known since meeting another boy in his youth, whose path has changed and evolved into something far less easily categorized than even this.

And whatever this unnamed affection is that binds them close, all Dazai can say is that he treasures it. ]

[inaurare]

[he cannot deny anything Dazai has said, only draw himself closer with a soft noise.

Of course he is worried - what is he, in comparison to the world that they share? What can he be? Even without the destruction of their home world, the backdrop of a common origin, a home town or country one identified with - he has seen it be a binding element amongst strangers Take that world away and that connection surely becomes more important than ever. Not just something that binds but something that keeps the world alive in their memories. Whatever they were to each other - cautious as Linneus has been to make no assumptions about their friendships with one another - they could still keep alive their Yokohama, their Japan. Their world living on in each other had to stand for something; and more than Linneus was sure he was able to.

Linneus had never been anyone’s world; never even anyone’s for-now. Nor could he ever expect to be. There was once he believed he could be something; someone’s everything, even, but never since has he believed in it. Even with Dazai telling him he is important... with a tremulous breath, all he can do is to tuck those words away and examine them later; lest they overwhelm him now]

[cassus]

[ Dazai can only guess at how his words are taken, given only the clues of their nearness and a shaky inhale buried within the silence stretching out between them. In turn he can offer merely what may foster a sense of security, the comfort and solace Linn seems to search for as they huddle together like children against a coming storm.

The future is uncertain, but Linn is still his guidepost which Dazai cannot easily stray from let alone abandon for good. Whether it's for better or worse, there's something that binds them together. And if words can't reassure of that constancy, then actions will have to suffice.

His head settled against Linneus' own, he draws the sheet up around them like a veil against whatever may lurk beyond tomorrow's dawning day. Whether Linn believes him or not, there's no doubt that he expects to weather it together in the place of doing so separately. For all that they've been through, he can't fathom ever acting as though they were strangers to each other, no matter what happens.

He's here now and he doesn't intend to leave, neither sooner or later. ]

Try to get some sleep, Linn. [ The promise isn't much, but it's far more than he's given most. ] I'm not going anywhere.

[inaurare]

I know.

[softly and small, all but bundled up against Dazai now. Dazai is here. What that means - what that means to him-- he can't pick that apart right now. As for Dazai staying... he will believe it when he sees it. But oh how he wants to believe in it.

He at least has the hope that he will be held until he sleeps; even if he has little expectation of Dazai holding him until he wakes. ]

Tomorrow will be better.

[softly murmured into Dazai's shoulder, the other man's head rested atop his own as he lets sleep catch him - finally, finally. Tomorrow will be better. However many times he might be shaken awake tonight - unfamiliar noises transformed and twisted to a dragon's screaming, or even by his own dreams - tomorrow would be better.]

[cassus]

It will. [ Hushed words press themselves into petal soft hair. ] Goodnight, Linn.

[ Whether it's the doubt in him or anything near to a promise, if those concerns had been spoken they wouldn't have been met with offense. Dazai can only fathom the times Linneus has been sworn Heaven and Earth, only to be met with nothing but broken oaths and the deceit of things said with no intention of fulfilling them.

For all he's done in his life, Dazai has never claimed to be either a saint nor even the most decent of men. Even 'good' evades him, no matter how much he aims for it. But in the pursuit of fulfilling a certain promise, he is working to be better. It hasn't been true in the past, but now he tries doing and saying what he honestly means for those who are worth receiving those precious few truths.

He may have whispered sweet nothings to people before, but the promises he makes now hold weight. And just as they do, so does their companionship. And so Dazai stays the whole night through. His chronic sleeplessness doesn't end up dragging him from bed for once, but instead forges him into something steadfast and present. He watches over Linn until sleep finally claims him and long after that, even when the morning comes.

Throughout every nightmare or startled break from sleep that pulls Linn from his dreams, Dazai is always there to lull him back to bed. If it takes just his presence, the gentle comb of hair or even a little conversation, he obliges until Linneus can nod off again. ]