Yuri woke up with a jolt, sword almost falling on the floor where it should be snug within the curl of his arm. His heart still pounded in its chest from the remnants of the earlier dream--nightmare, more like, and cold sweat trickled down from his temple to the side of his jaw. He wiped it with the back of his palm.
The image practically burned itself into mind.
Could it have been from the way he slept--sat on the floor with an elbow resting on one knee? Someone in the lower quarter told him once: sleep in an uncomfortable position and youāre going to have nightmares. But he had slept soundlessly in this position every time it was necessary which, over the course of their journey, was more often than youād think. Estelleās voice echoed from memory, however, how she would explain that it had been the result of a subconscious concern, but Yuri wasnāt in the mood to analyze emotions right now. No, emotions were never his strong suit.
Pushing off his knee, Yuri exited the inn as quietly as possible. Waking the others meant dealing with possible questions after, and those, he could do without. For now, he would enjoy the cool breeze that greeted him outside, shake off some of the tension by taking a walk or something. Repede understood--didnāt follow when Yuri ambled past, expression undecipherable.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it.
Blade slicing clothes and skin, the shattered remains of a blastia heart--a cold lifeless body with cold, lifeless eyes staring up at him almost accusingly. His sword hand trembled as if the feeling hadnāt left at all.
