westwhere | [ CLOSED ]

Entry tags:

[ CLOSED ]

WHO: Wrathion, Anduin
WHEN: Late Feb - Early March
WHERE: Ke-Waihu, the house of the old village wise man
WHAT: Curses, scratches, and aches
WARNINGS: Wrathion will likely scandalously take his shirt off so Anduin can see what he's healing. Or not healing, as the case may be. There may be disgusting hand contact. There is definitely UST.

In Ke-Waihu, the darkness at night is thick, the silence as heavy as a blanket muffling everything around them.

Wrathion finds it both reassuring and a source of unease. He hears nothing coming, yet neither is there a gentle hum of activity to mask his own movements.

In truth, he should not be out in the dark at all. He should be in his own assigned home, sticking to their cover story. Yet he has grown... accustomed to Anduin's close company, and the scratches that recently appeared on his skin have begun to bother him.

He simply wants him to examine them. As a healer. That's all it is. He isn't thinking about anything else. Not the union ceremony Anduin got swept up in, not the prospect of the Beastmaster being here, not the sick unease he feels wondering if he should leave in case something happens. If he should leave Anduin behind, for his own safety.

Not Anduin's gentle sympathy as they traversed the forest, chased by fleeting visions of Azeroth taunting them with something they could not have.

Not the reminder of how he had faced down Fahrad, devoid of a way to save him as the whispers twisted his mind.

Wrathion feels... strange. He cannot say he has ever particularly been troubled to only have himself for company, yet in the inky darkness here his own thoughts feel... loud somehow. The rooms he stands in feel big, and he feels uncommonly ill at ease.

He sends Anduin a simple message:

I'm outside.

Then waits to be let in, a ghost lurking around the window of Anduin's room in the wiseman's old abode. It seems fitting Anduin has been placed here, since he seems well suited to resolving disputes and giving advice. Then again, he'd likely been enjoying the respite -- or what limited respite he had.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Wrathion rarely sleeps peacefully.

It's hard enough to fall asleep to begin with, having company. He's unused to it, fidgets and jolts awake every so often at the strange sensation of being touched.

Held.

He's never slept beside someone before, never been offered the warmth of an embrace this way. He's loathe to give it up, even if it makes him restless. Yet the gentle comfort of Anduin's closeness does lure him to sleep eventually, and when he sleeps he dreams.

He dreams he's walking through an underground chamber, around him the too-still bodies of dragons. A voice is laughing at him, whispering. The chamber opens up and Anduin is there.

Anduin is laughing too.

He draws fire into his hands but the fire is purple, the ground is purple, then he's no longer in a chamber -- a dark, starless sky swirls over hand and Wrathion cannot breathe. Xanesh is there, and laughing, and the world is growing darker. He's protesting, but something is holding him in place. Securing him.

In his sleep, Wrathion growls and begins to struggle.

Wrathion is not a peaceful sleeper. Anduin had known this even before Wrathion had warned him of it, though it is one thing to observe it from across the room and another entirely when Wrathion is not only in his bed, but plastered against him like a second blanket.

A very warm, very restless blanket that continues to cling a bit too tight even through all the fidgeting and jolting awake.

Anduin doesn't mind all that much. Somewhere through all the shifting and burrowing that Wrathion has done, Anduin finds himself on his back, having kicked the blankets mostly off of himself in an effort to keep from overheating. One arm braces Wrathion in place where has come to rest, head pillowed on Anduin's shoulder, arms tight around his waist. He wouldn't say that he had been sleeping so much as drifting, when the deep sound of growling brings him back to himself in the dark of the room to find Wrathion struggling against him.

"Wrathion?" he asks muzzily, tightening his arm around him in the hopes that it might make him feel more secure, or at least draw his attention to the here and now...

Anduin tightens his arm around him, and Wrathion twitches against his captor -- against the restraints holding him in his dream.

For better or worse, he is at least a light sleeper and easy to wake.

The sound of Anduin's voice processes through, and Wrathion jolts awake abruptly. Some instinct kicks in, and as it does rolls quickly to pin down the person immobilizing him. Scales race over the dragons normally human skin, and his teeth sharpen as he snarls a warning --

When the sight of the person he's warning filters through finally. He blinks, breathing hard as he looks down at Anduin.

Ah.

The scales slowly begin to recede from his face, a frown pulling at Wrathion's features as he gently withdraws a hand from the priest's chest.

Hmmm.

His eyes flit up to the windows, gauging daylight, then back to Anduin.

"I did not mean to wake you," he says finally.

Since, clearly, he is very much awake now.

Anduin may have been half-awake, but he had not expected anything like the reaction that Wrathion gives, as he suddenly finds Wrathion on top of him, snarling and pinning him back against the bed --

His eyes are wide and blue as he stares up at Wrathion, watching him come back to himself with an almost palpable sense of relief. He isn't entirely certain just what he might have done if he hadn't.

This was different than the other times that Wrathion had startled awake earlier that night (yes, Anduin had noticed that). A nightmare, he realizes, abruptly. The growling, the struggling... It must have been a nightmare.

"I..." Anduin begins, but his voice comes out thin and thready. He clears his throat and tries again. "Are... You alright?"

He is decidedly not making any sudden movements until he's sure of this, one way or the other.

There's a long pause, as if Wrathion is weighing up how to answer that, then he slides himself off Anduin's lap abruptly.

"Yes," he says finally. "I did warn you I was a restless sleeper."

That's clearly all this is, restless sleep. He unties his hair and busies himself re-fastening it out of his face, as if that will straighten the leftover anxiety out of him.

His eyes slide back to Anduin once that's done, and Wrathion hesitates a moment.

"... Apologies if I startled you."

Since, yes, he can see that it has... provoked a reaction.

Embarrassing. He should have better control of himself than this. Obviously he would never hurt Anduin, but no doubt this incident has planted the thought in the man's head. That he's dangerous. That... is not a pleasant thing.

Anduin allows Wrathion a moment to pull away and recover himself. It allows him a moment to recover himself as well, if he's being honest. Tentatively, he moves to push himself to sit up, running a hand over his face as he wonders just how late -- early? -- it is.

"I'm fine," he replies, gently. And he is, more or less. Wrathion pinning him down had been... A surprise, to put it mildly. The snarling, the flash of scales, it had not been quite been the reaction he would hope for when reaching for Wrathion in the dark. But there's no real harm done.

He glances up, meeting Wrathion's eyes across the space of the bed and wondering whether he would really appreciate any discussion of what just happened. Probably not, but he feels as though he should try to talk about it nevertheless.

"You were growling," he says. "I thought..."

Well, he didn't really know what he had thought. He'd been half-asleep, after all.

"It was not directed at you."

Just to be clear, he had no intention of threatening Anduin.

Wrathion's fingers flex as he tries to force his heartrate to lower, his breathes to stay slow and steady. Anduin is concerned, Wrathion can feel it coming off him in waves, but he doesn't know what to say about it. Dreams can be unpleasant, that is simply the way of things for him. Dreamless sleep potions may be necessary, he supposes, if he is to sleep beside the priest again -- although sedating himself too heavily brings its own flavour of anxiety as well.

"No," Anduin agrees. He had not supposed that it was.

Of course he is concerned. Had they not just been over this earlier that evening? He cares for Wrathion, and just because he is not in immediate danger doesn't mean that there isn't still cause for worry.

He understands that Wrathion is... Struggling. That he is feeling self-conscious, of whatever it was that just transpired. He's never been very good at being vulnerable, and waking up in such a way -- certainly is that. In a way that he cannot hide, much as he would like to do so otherwise.

He could insist on Wrathion explaining to him, but he knows just how well things go when he presses him on -- pretty much anything. So instead when he speaks it is to say, "I have nightmares myself as well, you know."

The remark is kindly meant.

Everything Anduin does is, his words soft, his smile gentle.

Wrathion feels his stomach twist, his fingers curl until nails dig into his skin. His tongue runs over his teeth, heartrate picking up again.

This was a weakness, weaknesses can be used to hurt, it already hurt, it was a mistake, he should --

His eyes close for a moment, and Wrathion presses down on the panic. Compacts it into a box and wills it to be quiet a moment.

"I don't remember a time I didn't have them," he admits finally. It comes out steady enough that he risks opening his eyes again, glancing over to Anduin. What nightmares did he have, he wonders. Garrosh Hellscream? His father, on the Broken Shore?

Black dragons, perhaps?

The thought of it makes Anduin's heart hurt. He supposes that it does make sense. Wrathion has not lived an easy life, even before the most recent challenges in his battle against N'Zoth. The more that Anduin learns, the more he understands this. From the moment he entered consciousness, it feels as though Wrathion has had to fight -- for everything. What Anduin would not give to allow him just a moment of peace.

Anduin can see that even admitting this much is not easy for Wrathion. He appreciates that in doing so, Wrathion is placing a large amount of trust in him. That trust is a gift, and Anduin will do his best to treasure it.

He reaches out a hand across the bed toward Wrathion, palm up. If he would care to take it. A quiet olive branch. He has not ruined this. He is still welcome here.

"I doubt that the present circumstances are helping you sleep well."

This curse. The villagers' somewhat hostile attitudes. And now the Beastmaster looming on the horizon...

Wrathion's eyes slant down toward Anduin's hand, thoughtful, and he gives a low non-committal hum.

Of course it isn't helping, but in the end there's no immediate solutions.

"Nor you," he points out, and lets his hand creep over toward Anduin's. He slides their fingers together with slow, deliberate care -- savouring the sensation. There's always a chance they'll lose this, after all. He has to make it count. Memorise it. "Your confidence in an improved state of sleep may have been misplaced."

He's just saying, better than it's been in months? If this is still an improvement, Wrathion can only assume Anduin was not sleeping at all.

Anduin's lips curl up into something of a self-conscious smile as Wrathion curls his fingers into his own, and he finds himself being somewhat called out on his earlier words. He supposes he does deserve that, a little.

"Well," he replies, curling his own fingers around Wrathion's and giving his hand a squeeze. "It's certainly been better company."

He takes a moment to stroke his thumb against the back of Wrathion's hand, gentle and soft. A gesture of reassurance as he determines how best to proceed from here.

"In truth, I have been finding it difficult to quiet my thoughts tonight," Anduin admits. "It would seem perhaps... I am not the only one?"

"So it seems."

He's not... used to this.

Not used to waking up beside someone, to someone being concerned for him, to someone being aware of his nightmares.

Several of his Blacktalons were likely aware, but they didn't ask. Their relationship was strictly business.

He considers Anduin's hand, considers the man himself thoughtfully, and through the last dredges of his courage decides at this point there's little harm in just going for it.

Shifting, Wrathion slides himself closer to Anduin drops to lounge with his head in the man's lap. Here's clearly in the mood to provide attention, so why not indulge it?

It might take the edges off his frayed nerves.

Anduin definitely isn’t expecting the movement, when Wrathion shifts, suddenly finding himself with Wrathion’s head in his lap. It is not an unwelcome gesture, however.

He takes a moment to orient himself with the reality of the situation — no, he is not dreaming this, if he were he suspects he would feel far less tired and uncertain of himself than he does at present. Then he tentatively moves a hand to slide through Wrathion’s curls, gently brushing them out of his face and then continuing the motion. Stroking soft and gentle fingers through Wrathion’s hair.

It is possible that he has wanted to do this for some time now…

"Is there anything you have found that helps?" he asks, softly. With the nightmares. He would like to help, if he can.

Anduin's hand in his hair feels --

Stimulating, in a way he hadn't expected. He goes tense briefly, a tingle running over his skin at the contact, then slowly settles as the thread of fingers through his hair repeats. This won't let him sleep, he expects, but it is enjoyable.

"Beyond Dreamless Sleep potions?"

Which is the most practical, direct way to handle things. He doesn't much like having to use them, but sometimes it has been necessary.

Anduin hums softly, frowning at that.

He had known that Wrathion's sleep had been... Troubled. He supposes he had not realized quite how much so, until just now. Had he not paid enough attention, he wonders? Or had Wrathion hid it that well?

Either way, he does not much like the idea of Wrathion having to drug himself to get a good night's sleep. Not that his opinion has much weight in any of this, of course. But Anduin is a healer, and he has failed to mend Wrathion once already this night. Nightmares are far from a physical wound that he can call forth the Light to cast from Wrathion's mind. He must find some other way to banish Wrathion's demons.

"Sometimes," Anduin says, after a moment's thought, "I have tea, myself. I cannot say I would even drink it half the time, but the smell of it. The warmth. It is a comfort."

Softly, he continues the motion of his fingers, combing them gently through Wrathion's curls where he has laid himself across his lap.

"You mentioned tea before," Wrathion notes. Yes, he does in fact pay attention. "I do have some, back in my current accommodation. It can provide a decent distraction."

The process of getting up and making it, something else to focus on.

The same way Anduin's fingers are currently distracting, stroking through his hair slowly. The initial sensitivity he had to the touch appears to be... easing somewhat, at least, leaving it with a low soothing quality. Perhaps it's the repetition, giving his mind something to lull itself to rest on? He couldn't say for certain, but it's certainly... pleasant.

Anduin smiles at that. He supposes he had mentioned it. It was not always nightmares that kept him awake -- more often than not it was his mind itself that could not rest. But he found that tea worked for both instances.

"It can," he replies. He thinks about offering to rise and make some for them now, although... He wonders if tea is just what Wrathion needs right now when he has come to him like this, laying his head in his lap for comfort and support.

Anduin continues the motion of his fingers through Wrathion's curls. He seems to like it. At least, the tension in him seems to be easing, which is a good sign. Wrathion's hair itself is soft, and a little bit tangled from the day -- and a restless night's sleep for that matter. Anduin absent-mindedly wonders if Wrathion would object to having him attempt to comb it out, some time.

He does not want to ruin this peace that Wrathion has settled into. All the same, he feels as though he must pose the question...

"Would you like to talk about it?" he asks, softly. The nightmare he had had, just now. The nightmares that have plagued him in the past. Anything at all that is troubling him, really. Anduin is here to listen. Here for him, as he had said before.

Would he?

Not especially.

Talking about such things is not something that Wrathion is... used to. This contact in and of itself is already a little... much. It's soothing but equally something his mind keeps latching onto, a warm comfort he feels he must commit to memory.

"You were in it," he admits. "In a less than pleasant way, I'm afraid."

He'd much rather be having nice dreams about Anduin instead of... this. Unfortunate, then, that Wrathion's subconscious apparently has other ideas.

Anduin puzzles at that phrasing and the deliberate vagueness of it. He understands that perhaps Wrathion doesn't want to go into too much detail. Unfortunately, leaving too much out leaves the mind to wonder instead.

In a less than pleasant way.

He'd like to hope that he'd not played any part in the torments Wrathion had suffered, in his dreams or otherwise. He supposes that is too much to ask either way.

Anduin repeats the movement of his fingers through Wrathion's hair, soft and gentle. "I am sorry for that, for what it is worth," he replies quietly. Perhaps it is strange to apologize for whatever happened in a dream he did not experience, but he feels that he must regardless.

Edited (this is better (thanks bitters)) 2022-04-06 00:02 (UTC)

"It was dream, I don't see that you need to apologise for it."

Anduin didn't cause it, after all. He just happened to appear in it.

The warm scent of the priest is... soothing, regardless. Wrathion can feel his eyelids starting to droop, his nerves starting to settle under the persistent play of fingers through his hair.

There he'd been, thinking he'd never sleep with this stimulation. It seems he's wrong about that. He'll likely wake up again, but he might at least sleep someone.

"Don't let me keep you awake," he murmurs, "I can move if you need me to."

Anduin shakes his head, even though he understands that Wrathion will not be able to see the gesture.

"I'll be alright," he reassures, softly, stroking his fingers again through Wrathion's hair as he does.

Anduin is comfortable enough where he is right now, and Wrathion seems to be fairly settled himself. An easiness is settling into the tension Wrathion had been holding before, his nerves settling into something more relaxed and easy, which is a relief. If he is able to grant Wrathion at least a few more hours of uninterrupted sleep before the night is over, then Anduin will be glad of it.

"It is late," he prompts, gently.

It is, late enough to be early even. Wrathion rolls himself carefully onto his side and up onto one hand -- slinks the other around Anduin's waist and tugs gently.

"For you as well," he points out. A solid reason Anduin should settle back down properly with him. There is no reason he cannot continue this soothing gesture as they lay down, after all.

"You are not wrong." Anduin's lips tug into a smile, though he can take the hint. He lets Wrathion pull him back down onto the bed, before rolling to face him again, reaching forward to tuck a stray curl behind Wrathion's ear once more.

"If I am being honest with myself," Anduin says, softly, "there is a part of me that still cannot quite believe you are here with me."

He moves his hand to stroke the side of Wrathion's face.

"Perhaps this is the real dream."

A pleasant thing to hear. Wrathion smiles slowly, gathering Anduin comfortably closer.

"Do you dream of me often?"

Is this an image Anduin is familiar with, Wrathion laid out in his bed embracing him? If so, he would quite like to hear about it. There could be some very enlightening details there, after all.

Nightmares

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