@flashfictionfridayofficial x @meljaymicrofics "No happy endings" and "resolve"
relationship: Jayce Talis/Mel Medarda
rating: T (cw: hurt/little comfort)
summary: what would anyone do for the nightmares to stop?
The night was to be the time of peace, of stillness. A time to reset when the demands of the day are multi-directional and ever enduring. Such wasn't for Mel.
Her mind wasn't one to still easily, plagued by visions that would leave her in a cold sweat, clutching at her chest. If she could physically reach into her chest and apply forcible pressure to calm her racing heart, she would.
The storylines most nights were different, but the arising disturbance in her spirit was the same and a feat to shake the following day.
Several nights before, she found herself reverted to a younger version of herself, no older than ten or twelve summers, seated in her mother's lap. She pressed a tender kiss to Mel's forehead while her arms held onto her a fraction tighter.
Mel closed her eyes, leaning into the beating of her mother's heartbeat by her ear.
By the time she realized and opened her eyes, her mother's warmth abandoned her: the earth became the skies and the skies the earth. Mel tries to scream and reach for her mother, but it's to no avail: vocal cords are stripped and her mother's turned away.
A sacrifice to a god Mel's become.
This night surrounded by darkness Mel stands alone. Before her sculpted in the skies is a figure of a wolf's head. An eerie glow burns in its eyes and forehead. Flanking its sides are two more like it. Muzzles open to a snarl, baring teeth, but unmoving and saying nothing.
A flash of recognition strikes her studying the figures in the skies. Yes, it is themâ the very ones for whom she was an offering some nights back.
No longer small but her grown age, Mel feels a warmth swirl in her gut and traverse outward for waves of light to flare off the sigils mapping her body in pulses. Curling her hands to fists, she readies herself to strike. She is unsure how or why, but every instinct tells her this is wrong and she has to take them down.
Launching herself in the air, her stomach rises in her ribcage and she hits them with everything she's got at all angles.
Gently returning to the earth, dust kicks up in a small radius about her feet, until she carefully reigns in her magic. The spots where the light beat off her skin is a lingering burn and she hissesâ she has yet to acclimate to her magic's strength.
In waiting for the sensations to fade she checks at the sky. Her heart sinks to the pit of her guts.
Not so much as a single sign of any damage.
She had given it all she could! There must be something she's missing; something she could do. Mel racks her brain with different iterations of her fate she knows. Once she comes to, she looks to the ground then slowly draws her eyes back up to the skies.
For the swirling storm up above, only a light strong and sharp enough could cut it clean. Mel stretches her ribcage with a deep inhale. The usually golden light on Mel's skin turns a blinding white and she lets out a scream.
Holding her chest, spots swim across Mel's vision. Her head feels light and dizzying and her eyes dart around, desperate to make sense of where she is. The dark enveloping her makes it difficult to parse what makes her surroundings, but soon enough her eyes adjust.
The grand armoire to her far right and next to it her vanity. Further down a vast window to let in daylight. For the night curtains were drawn but at its hemline a thin sliver of moonlight could be traced. To her left, the entryway to the en suite bathroom and closer is Jayce.
He's seated in their bed beside her, quiet but eyes holding concern unspoken.
When she eventually meets his gaze, her face breaks to a watery smile.
"Another bad dream?" he braves to ask.
She doesn't answer him right away. Instead she looks down at the space between themâthe gold on her hand propping her up glimmers when she tilts it certain angles. Gratefully, it doesn't burn, not right now, and not even when the tips of Jayce's fingers carefully lace with hers.
She slips her fingers out from his in favor of cupping his cheek, feeling its warmth and traversing her fingers down his neck and chest.
Jayce squeezes Mel's hands, pulling them to his lips faintly.
Donning proper bottoms and a shift, Jayce and Mel respectively move from their bedroom for a light stroll.
Jayce is all too familiar with incessant nightmares. His are different then Mel's, but the wear they cast on the mind and spirit is all the same.
Forcing sleep would be futile. If anything fresh air and a reminder of each other's company could do them good.
Mel worries. About her family. Her family's enemies. About uncovered truths, and what'll become of her out of all this.
Jayce worries, too. Of eternal damnation, of losing himself, and of losing her.
There's a gut-wrenching ache that comes with every time such concerns are verbalized. So this night, they don't. Instead they hold each other's hand, moving together side by side, carrying only light conversations and the shuffling of each step.
Sleep doesn't come to them; they walk the halls until the ache in Jayce's leg is impossible to ignore. There is a couch nearby to rest, his leg propped on an ottoman and her head on his shoulder.
At this angle Jayce can't quite tell if Mel is starting to fall asleep on his shoulder or not.
He presses a firm kiss to the crown of her head, praying to anyone willing to listen. If only for her to have one peaceful night's rest, he'd bring the rest of the world down.