unravel | dream x reader |

[37]

An ache. That was was first thing Y/N registered when she wavered into her consciousness. Her eyes squinted open slightly, quietly peering at her surroundings; cave walls, dim lantern-lit lighting, stacks of medical supplies piling the table across from her; yep, she was in Pogtopia. The vines decorating the entrance shielded the moonlight from outdoors, as well as concealing the light from the inside, too. A quiet groan passed her lips as the reality of her situation soon kicked in, faint and vivid memories resurfacing in her head.

She was in a war... fighting Sapnap, she could vaguely recall - it was just the rest of it that seemed blurred and foggy. She remembered the fight getting pretty out of hand, too, to a point where the pair of them had collapsed... maybe it was her leg? As if on cue, a sharp and biting sting was brought to her shin, causing her to shift with a hiss of pain. Discomfort was brought to her limb as a whole, including a dull ache to her other bruises, her body feeling much weaker and tired than the usual.

She sat up from her position, holding her spinning head with a bandaged palm before she fully took in her state. Her leg had been wrapped in gauze and bandages, a litter of dark bruises decorating her skin in many places. She grimaced, hardly expecting so many to have appeared since the fight. Her armour had been stripped from her body, including her boots, leaving her in quite a dirtied blouse and her usual cargo pants, though they were were rolled to just below her knee. She relaxed slightly at that, glad to know none of the others breached her privacy whilst she was out cold.

But... speaking of which, where were the others? A feeling of concern overcame her the more she thought about it, her head darting to the exit once again. She lifted her feet from underneath the covers, carefully shifting her feet to plant them against the solid ground before immediately wincing again. She lifted her left ankle from off the ground, immediately frowning to the fact she could barely even put weight on the injured limb. How the hell was she supposed to find them like this?

Before she could even attempt to continue, the sound of approaching footfall from the stairwell alerted her that someone was here, calming her worried state almost instantly. Judging by her tended wounds and her current position of care, she could only make an assumption it was someone from Pogtopia, or someone she could trust, at least. A silhouette rounded the corner, a familiar green hood hanging over his head whilst the dim lighting hid his mask from view, though that didn't conceal his identity. She smiled at the sight of him, somewhat glad he hadn't yet left since she last saw him, like she imagined he would've. In his arms was a box of medical equipment with a couple rags stacked on top, but his mannerisms seemed oddly sloppy and exhausted. That mood soon died down, however, a more relieved one soon taking over at the sight of her consciousness.

"Y/N..." he exhaled, slowly pushing his box of supplies to the desk aside before gradually making his way towards her, wariness lacing his every movement. She could feel his eyes reading every uncomfortable shift or twitch she made, as well as her muddled expression, too. He could only assume that she was yet to really take in what had happened or how she ended up in a mysterious medical bed instead of her own. Now whilst her own room was merely below them from where they stood, carrying the girl down to the foot of the ravine would be a little bit of a challenge, if not impossible. So here she was, laying down by the entrance of her home - half awake and curious of everything around her. Dream's hand brushed her knees slightly as he moved to reach and sort through the supplies he had brought along with him.

"How're you feeling?" He cleared his throat, not wanting to bombard her with questions and overwhelm her even more. His voice seemed to soothe her, he noticed, watching her back relax and her posture fall a little-less tense. She lifted her shoulders, raising them high before rolling them back to kill the ache that had been brought to them - whether it was from war or the rock-hard bed she had lay on, she didn't really know.