#dargonwriter

@dargonwiter It belongs in the Defectum-verse and will turn up again later in the story but for now, have this sniplet that perfectly matched this prompt!

Warnings: trauma, implied torture (minor), Alcohol abuse, ptsd

It was the night of the lunar new year and soon every Moonshadow elf would gather on the main market place to celebrate together. Tink was currently sitting at the kitchen table of their most famed assassin and checked the Bowblade he’d just delivered for any faults that could have escaped him before. It was his final work and would hopefully only need a few adjustments before Runaan could use it in the field. Months had passed since the day they met in the woods and Tink secretly prayed to the moon every night that his subtle flirting attempts would finally get noticed by the stern soldier. The smith harboured a crush to an extend he didn’t think would be possible before meeting the tall elf. Now that their contract was almost fulfilled, he had the irrational fear to loose the friendship they built and be alone again. “NAAN?” he shouted, looking impatiently at the staircase in the corner “Come on, we are going to be late for the fireworks.” A good twenty minutes prior, the Assassin had excused himself to change into something ‘more fitting’ and hand been gone since.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Tink shrieked a little as the other suddenly appeared beside him. He still hadn’t gotten accustomed to the numerous hidden grips that could be used to get up or down instead of the staircase. “I’m not but we are going to be late.” He smirked at his friend who was now dressed in his full parade uniform, rank pauldron and all. “Fancy” Runaan grimaced immediately. “We could also just stay here and avoid all the people.” He filled two glasses with the Whisky Tink had come to know as his favourite and offered one to him while downing the other in one go. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t want to go?” he asked, pushing his glass back. The wine from before already did enough to make him feel warm and slightly bolder than usual. Runaan eyed the glass before tipping it back, too. “Because I don’t want to? Too many curious people that I have no intention to meet nor talk to.”

Early on, the smith had noticed the other’s aversion of strangers and big crowds in general. He’d said they made him nervous because he wasn’t able to calculate threats properly when Tink asked him about it. “We can stay at the edge of the crowds if they bother you, come on.” He stood and opened the door in order to get the Assassin to finally leave that precious house of his. “Alright, alright.” Runaan waved him off and obediently followed outside. He didn’t even get the chance to close the door behind him when the first banging sounds of fireworks sounded through the night. A couple of kids must have found some of them since it was still way before midnight. Tink wanted to make a joke about them getting punished for that afterwards when he noticed that Runaan was frozen into place next to him. “Naan?” he asked carefully taking a step towards him. The Assassin was eerily pale, and his eyes were opened wide in shock. He made no move to respond so Tink tried again, touching his shoulder this time. “Runaan.” Again, no reaction. Now concerned, he gently shook the other “Runaan? Are you okay?”

“Run” no more than a whisper passed the Assassin’s lips just a second before his hand shot up and tightened around Tinks neck with alarming intensity. He gasped for air, now looking into narrowed eyes that were darker and didn’t look like his friend at all. “R- Ru- naan.” He managed to choke out before the air completely left his lungs. He could feel his vision blacking out already as the pressure on his throat suddenly eased, sending him to the floor, violently gasping for air.

When he looked up, Runaan was staring at the hand that had pushed him up the wall just a second ago in utter shock. “naan?” his voice was still raspy but at least he could breathe again. The Assassin’s gaze snapped to him, fixing on the spots of his neck where most likely bruises could be seen. “I’m sorry. So sorry. Oh god. Tink, I-I’m so sorry.” He rambled, backing away through the entry and inside his house. In the distance, Tinker could hear more fireworks. Now that he thought about it, they reminded him a lot of the canons the humans used to defend their castles. He’d only ever heard them once during his time on the border, but it was a sound one didn’t forget that easily.

“Runaan? Are you okay?” he quickly followed the other inside, seeing him lean against the wall that separated his kitchen from the rest of the floor, breathing heavily. This time, the smith was sure to approach more carefully. “Can you hear me?” a nod, good. “What happened?” but Runaan only shook his head and dragged a shaking hand through his hair, messing with the tidy braids. His gaze travelled between Tink and the bottle on the table a few times before he finally replied. “The-the s-sounds. I’m s-sorry.” The smith nodded and forced a smile on his face. “I’m okay; see? Nothing happened.” He tried to get a little closer, but the Assassin immediately took a step backwards, his feet hitting the wall. “Stay away from me!” it sounded so much more afraid than he’d ever heard his friend and something in his gut twisted in return. “Runaan..” he began but was cut off before he could say something. “P-please. I-I don’t want to-to hurt you.”

“okay” Tink agreed and took a few steps back until the other had relaxed a little. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked carefully and pulled one of the chairs over to sit down. The soldier shook his head but also took a seat. On the opposite side of the table as far away as he possibly could. His hands were still trembling as he reached for the liquor and poured some of it in one of the glasses. Tinker watched patiently as he emptied it, repeated the process and suddenly stood, walking into the training room to get more distance between them. “It’s the sounds, right?” he asked and slowly followed in the large room. A nod in approval. “Tink, please don’t follow me.” Again, the fear in his voice.

“It’s okay, you are not going to hurt me.” The smith tried to soothe but while he was speaking more fireworks sounded in the distance. Midnight. Runaan’s eyes widened again and he backed into a corner, sinking to the ground his back to the relatively safe wall. “I’ve already hurt you.” He exclaimed, staring at his right hand as if it was somehow to blame for that. “Just go, please, It’s not safe. I’m not safe.” The assassin mumbled, drawing his legs up. “I won’t just leave you here.” Tink advanced step by step, praying the other wouldn’t bolt again. When he reached the cowering figure and spoke again, Runaan looked at him in shock seemingly lost in his own world. “Come here.” He coaxed and pulled him in a tight embrace. Under his hands, he could feel the usually composed elf tremble. “They died, Tink. All of them. I couldn’t-“ his friend whispered, voice now hoarse. “Shhh, it’s okay. We are safe. Tell me about them.” He reassured as calmly as he could and rubbed circles across the other’s back. “We were s-seven. M-my fourth mission. Hostage retrieval. The humans, they-they-“ Runaan broke off again and took a few deep breaths. “It’s alright, I’m here.” The smith repeated, sitting down next to him while still keeping an arm around his shoulders for comfort. “-they fired at us. E-everybody died. I-I could see them get hit b-because I was behind them, carrying the hostage. I still d-don’t know h-how, but we m-made it. M-my whole quad dead. J-just like that.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Tink assured and continued to comfort the other. “There was nothing you could have done.” “S-still.” The assassin argued, now with a little of that stubbornness that was so distinctly him. “I-I don’t know.” He took another shuddering breath before closing his eyes for a few seconds. When he spoke again, his voice was even, if still hoarse, and sounded much more like it usually did. “I feel like I could have done more to save them. The fireworks, they-they remind me of the canons.”

Tink nodded but kept his arm still around the other’s shoulder, pulling him close. “How often do you get those flashbacks?” he asked quietly. For someone usually so composed, the huge loss of control must be devastating. He himself often had nightmares from his time at border and could only imagine how horrible the Assassin’s were. It took a couple of minutes before Runaan finally replied but the smith waited patiently, hugging him a little tighter. “I haven’t had this one for three years, but it occurs sometimes when I hear those sounds. Thankfully it never happened to this extent on a mission.”

“So, there are others? Do you know what they are triggered by?” the general nodded, staring ahead to something only he could see. “Narrow spaces, huge, dense crowds, fire and generally loud noises. But not all of them necessarily have to cause a panic attack. If I can mentally prepare for it, I can block it out. Fire is also not that problematic, just-just if it’s very near to my skin.” Torture was the first thing that crossed Tink’s mind, but he decided not to touch that topic today. Now that he thought about it, he’d seen a few strange scars on the other’s body back when they were sparring that looked a lot like the marks his mentor bore on his arms from handling the hot iron all day for decades.

“You said the one today was the first in three years. What did you do before that helped? So I know what to do next time?” a helpless laugh was the response he got and he could feel Runaan relaxing a little until his back leaned against the wall and one of his legs was stretched out again. “I left. Two times, I had missions that I took because they spanned the new year’s celebration and once, I just walked until I couldn’t hear them anymore.” He left out that he’d not only sprinted through the woods as fast as he could but also spent Midnight in an equally high tree branch equally drunk as the day they met.

“And for the other occasions is there something that helps?” Runaan shook his head “Not completely, no. Though training helps sometimes, it makes me feel in control again, and-“ he broke off, burying his head in his hands to avoid Tink’s assessing look. The smith squeezed him again, sitting as close as possible before gently prodding further. “And?” the look he got in return was equally devastated as it was shameful. “And-“ the assassin finally continued “-drinking… helps.” At Tinkers speechless expression, he seemed to feel the need to explain himself. “It dulls my senses so that I don’t react to those events that sensitive. I tried the sleep medication from the healers one time and it also worked quite well but I don’t really have access to it that frequently.”

The smith nodded, placing his free hand over Runaan’s to show him he didn’t judge the other. “So you have them a lot?”

A tiny nod.

“Most nights, yes but they, ah-well, they got better since we’ve been working together. Diversion usually manages to occupy me enough to forget about them. You once asked me why I train so much and sleep so little, well now you’ve got the answer. I bet it’s not the one you’ve anticipated.”

Here is the finished Version! Just Runaan hanging upside down from a tree :P 

For @dargonwriter‘s Story:) I hope you like it!