#valiisthea

⚅— Continued from here. —⚅ ⚅— @valiisthea —⚅ ⚅— -> Dion —⚅

— ★ ⚄ ★ —

"I would argue your outlook's a bit short-sighted," Hanekoma replied with a heavy shrug. "You haven't seen 'im like I 'ave. You haven't watched 'im all this time. At the risk'a sounding sentimental, he needs people. Steadfast people with noble hearts. Isolation... Particularly for your breed... 'S a bit deadly. Moreso than even your curses. I know... You probably don't believe in what 'e's doing yet, but if you can, you'll know you need to support each other..."

Hanekoma's eyes cast down to his own hands now, and for a moment he was lost, thinking of that small child who he held in his arms and worried would die at any moment. He remembered how lonely he looked, lost in this world without those people that had always loved him so much. And when he woke up, that hadn't changed. He was still alone, save a few. An Undying like himself had no space to stand beside him. He was a steward, a pawn, just a tool at the hand of his God... The phoenix for some, but for himself it was just Joshua. He couldn't stand as an equal with him, and he couldn't help him in any way more than a shadow.

Yellow is Dion, blue is Terence. They are...clearly not his type 😭

(If you want someone else to fill this out lemme know!)

'Then why even bother?' Astarion thinks to himself. Oh well. Not his fault he has high standards. Not everyone can measure up. Is it realistic? No, but he think it's the best he doesn't get involved with these goody two shoe types anyways.

"I should say better luck next time darlings but I doubt there will be one".

"Yeah... You don't seem like the type." Cloud pressed the blade a little more firmly against the other's pale neck, careful to not go too far, as easily as that would be. He had skill enough to know how much pressure to add and to take away, even if the urge to run the other through was thrumming through all of his nerves and instincts.

"There's other ways to have you talk..." He pressed himself even closer to the other, being wary of the weapon in the other's hand, but was confident that he had the advantage at an angle like this. "Losing your head is probably not something you want, tonight, is it? So, why's Rufus sending you after us? You're not getting Aerith..."

Cloud hadn't been sleeping. At all. His head was killing him and the sunlamps of the slums burned his eyes. Yet despite how tired Cloud felt, sleep never seemed to come to him; maybe a couple of hours but mostly laying awake in his apartment, his mind too full to settle down, his legs felt restless. It felt like an itch that couldn't be satisfied, laying down to sleep was long and uncomfortable.

It was starting to effect his mercenary work. Cloud had gotten so desperate that he was considering looking for Binding materia just to cast sleep on himself. Tifa tried a number of remedies that she knew of, tried warm milk, herbal tea, even introducing a curfew so the bright lights and music doesn't keep his mind too stimulated but none of it was working.

Upon hearing about Cloud's sleeping troubles, Roche invited himself over with his own remedy for sleep. Hearing it made the exhausted blond blearily arch an eyebrow at him. Listen to his heart? He wasn't a newborn, he was a SOLDIER. How would listening to Roche's heart help?

...He was desperate for some sleep though. With a defeated roll of his eyes, Cloud agreed to it. Initially regretting that decision upon realizing that he'd need to be resting on Roche's chest to do so, why did he assume he'd bring a stethoscope? After a brief tussle to try and find a comfortable position on Cloud's small bed, the soldier was resting Roche's chest listening to his heartbeat.

He'd never thought he'd make it.

He fled, blinded by the desperate need to get as far away from the Shinra building as possible. There was no looking back, only the single-minded need to keep moving forward.

The shouts of his pursuers had died not long ago, the roars of their engines lost when he'd slipped away from the main thoroughfares and onto the smaller alleys and backstreets that would wend away from the cursed headquarters.

The trouble was going to be whether or not Shinra put out any kind of notice that he had escaped.

The average person might be able to blend in but Maru was kind of anything but an average person. He was unfortunately going to stand out no matter where he went.

It didn't help that he was unfamiliar with Midgar in its entirety. To say that he wasn't from around there, was something of an understatement.

He'd headed for the bright lights and loud voices and burst into what appeared to be some kind of huge, sprawling market. Still unwilling to stop until he was sure that the uniformed Shinra guards weren't following, he dodged and weaved amongst the throngs of people. He was certainly going to draw some stares though, scantily clad as he was in what appeared to be little more than hospital scrubs that were torn in places and dirty after his madcap flight from captivity.

Kat grunted as she attempted to push a dumpster under a nearby window into the restaurant. She paused to take off her backpack filled with her usual urban exploration supplies like her flashlight, camcorder and first aid kit. Due to the loud creaking from the dumpster she failed to hear the footsteps approaching her until she felt a hand grab her shoulder and spun her around.

It’s one of those days where he’s just laying there, eyes wide open despite how tired he actually feels. It’s not the first time this has happened; unable to sleep despite how safe he feels. He’s had trouble sleeping ever since he quit his job at Freddy’s. He either can’t sleep, or he’ll wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare, unable to calm down enough to drift back into dreamland.

He thought he’d have an easier time of it since it was morning when they returned home, but even that didn’t ease his mind enough to allow sleep. Not that he’s surprised, considering what had happened last night. If he never had to go near Freddy’s again, he could probably sleep soundly. But he knew Mike would go back. Felt like he had to. And Austin would follow right along behind him. 

Despite not being able to sleep, he’s still comfortable. Mike’s bed is easy to feel at home in. Easy to relax in. Doubly so with the man right next to him, passed out half on top of him. That’s where he’d fallen asleep a few hours ago, wanting nothing more than to listen to his heartbeat and pretend the night hadn’t happened. He hadn’t moved an inch since; and neither had Austin, in fear of waking him. 

Night jobs weren’t easy on the body. Adapting to a new schedule was hard. Dealing with murder animatronics made it even worse. 

He would continue to just lay here, though, content with the fact that Mike was with him. If their roles were reversed, he was sure he could sleep. Mike’s heartbeat was one of the few sounds that could put him to sleep instantly. So safe and comforting.

Completely unlike his own, which seemed to never slow down, almost always ready to beat out of his chest. Although he didn’t agree, Mike had said it was comforting to him. Helped him sleep without thinking; something even his prescription was having a hard time handling. Which was why Austin was sacrificing sleep at the moment. Not that he would let him know he hadn’t been sleeping. It was his secret; one he would willingly take to his grave if it meant Mike could actually rest, relax, and sleep peacefully. 

He can understand the worries, the feelings of insecurity after sustaining a wound of such nature. It makes more than perfect sense - but it doesn't stop the ache in his chest from spreading.

"You are no less the fighter you were before you were injured, you do know that, surely?"

And it's then that he remembers his offer - to vent. Not for unsolicited advice or coddling. He clears his throat and takes a half step back.

"Sorry, this is your time to talk. Please, speak freely."

He didn't mind the advice, truly. It was nice that someone cared enough to offer it. When Terence hesitated though, the feline's ears laid back and he took the brunet's wrist in his hand.

"And that's another thing!" he continued, seeing as he'd been invited to. "No-one's touched me in days, like they think I'm brittle and that I'll break if they so much as breathe in my direction." And as he talked, he stepped forward to counter the dragoon's step back and wrapped Terence's fingers around his wrist to stop himself from reaching up for his ear again.

"I am less of the fighter that I was. I can't do the things I used to, Terence. Even after weeks of training, my blind side is still a huge weakness. I need to train harder. I don't want to be the weak link."