ImpossibleHobbit01

THE LAST TIME HE TRIED TO THUNDER STEP HER OUT AND AWAY SHE WAS NOT WILLING.

THAT WAS KINGS CAGE.

Next up someone is going to claim that the Narnia series isn't kids books.

“Occtis returning the attempts at comfort under mental distress, in the form of "uh... would you like to hold my undead fox?" and/or the world's most awkward attempt to intellectually dissect and replicate the casual physical-contact gestures that were clearly Julien's go-to when Occtis was distressed. (Julien got a vision of undead monstrosity Raimond fighting Teor and Cyd even if he didn't go down there, which has to be fuel for some nightmares once he slows down long enough to think about it.)”

I love this so much, it’s absolutely THEM.

~

Julien has nightmares.

He hasn’t said anything to anyone, but Occtis knows what they look like. It’s one of the benefits of not sleeping anymore, that he doesn’t have to endure horrible dreams any longer - he’s definitely had plenty in the past, something that just might be due to the constant influx of power from the Tenebral Reaches spilling into his family homes. So he knows the signs, even if Julien doesn’t say a word. He shifts in his sleep, restless, murmuring sounds that are sometimes half-intelligible words, sometimes just noises that almost sound like pain. He’s not getting adequate rest; there are dark shadows beneath his eyes, and his usually fluid grace is lacking, his movements stiffer and slower than usual. Occtis can hear it every time his heartbeat speeds up or his breathing stutters out of the calm rhythm it should have in sleep, though he doesn’t mention it, either.

Julien will take it as pity, and it’s not. After what they saw in Obrimus Manor, Occtis would be having nightmares too, if he were still capable. And he didn’t even have to glimpse whatever monstrosity his family had been making of Raimond Davinos. Thimble’s description of it was bad enough; Julien had gritted his teeth and looked away with something like recognition when she had told them, and Occtis wonders if he somehow saw it for himself.

If he did… well, it would certainly explain the nightmares. Occtis can sympathize. But he doesn’t know what to do about it.

House Tachonis were never big on comfort. They viewed needing reassurance as weakness, being beholden to emotions that are unnecessary in those of their station. So Occtis has very limited experience with trying to offer kindness to another person.

He considers what Thimble would do - though given this is Julien, that’s probably a bad idea. The pixie has a certain brand of tactless forthrightness that, while it can be reassuring in its own way, isn’t exactly comfortable.

He considers what Thaisha might try - but again, while she has a great deal of empathy and kindness, she’s also a sort of direct that might not be the best option in this situation. Occtis can’t really find any kind of solid pattern to follow that might create the results he’s hoping for, and this isn’t exactly the time to experiment with trial and error.

Then he remembers Julien outside of Obrimus Manor, his attempts to keep Occtis from losing himself in panic and dread. He remembers warm hands on his shoulders, a bracing sort of contact, a slight softening in the other’s typically caustic tone. He barely remembers actually leaving the Manor and getting back to Hal’s house in the Rookery, having retreated somewhere deep into himself at the sight of his father’s murderous rage, but he remembers those touches.

Contact seems a common way to attempt comfort, and a language Julien seems to respond to. Which means that it would likely be the best option.

Trouble is, Occtis has no idea how to go about it.

He’s not used to being touched, other than by a few select people. Even then, too much casual contact is overwhelming, something he doesn’t understand or appreciate.

Still. It’s the start of an idea.

~

He watches the rest of the party closely for the next few days, taking note of every bit of interpersonal contact, trying to judge and gauge its effect. Kattigan eyes him strangely, and Thimble makes a comment about him being weirder than usual, but Occtis continues to observe. He jots notes down during his sleepless nights, trying to find patterns, to make sense of what works when and why. Bolaire seems to recognize what he’s doing in some capacity, but he doesn’t comment; now that Occtis knows what the other is, he wouldn’t be surprised if he has a similar lack of understanding of this complex language of touch. He’s had longer to figure it out, though.

At least Occtis is making some progress, beginning to find some understanding. So the next night Julien has a nightmare and wakes in a cold sweat in the dim hours after midnight, Occtis steels himself, and reaches out.

The knight flinches when a cold hand closes on his shoulder, jerking back and instinctively reaching for the rapier lying next to his bedroll. He stops when he realizes it’s only Occtis, and in the dim light, the arcanist can see the confused frown knitting his brow. “What are you doing?”

Occtis panics, just a little. It’s far from the intended result, and he pulls back, grasping for words of an explanation. “Uh. You just— your dreams, I know you’re—“ Shit. He’s not good at this. This isn’t academic, it’s emotional, and he has zero healthy framework to fall back on.

In that moment of mentally flailing ineptitude, Pin emerges from the pocket dimension he’s supposed to stay in, dropping directly onto Julien’s lap. The fox looks up at the man with button eyes, and he stares down at it for a moment - then starts to laugh, though quietly, so as not to wake the rest of their party.

Occtis winces, shrinking back as if he can disappear into the shadows on his side of the tent. “He’s… better at comforting people than me, I guess.” The words are muttered mostly to himself, but Julien’s gaze darts back up, a flicker of something there and gone behind his eyes.

He half-expects the man to fling the undead fox away, but instead he lets a hand drop to Pin’s back, lightly stroking over the fur. It’s a repetitive, soothing motion, and Occtis can hear Julien’s heartbeat slowing, steadying. He lets out a long sigh of a breath, and slowly, the tension begins to seep out of his muscles. “Hm. I suppose he is useful.” The words should be insulting, but they sound calm, almost approving.