Skies of emrub

Nightmares and Feathers

(SELF HARM WARNING. READ WITH CARE.)

The guardian is tired. Nightmares flock to him at night, memories of people, of things he had pressed down, like a dried leaf in a book. He drags himself from the nest as he wakes, rubbing bleary eyes that never feel like they get clearer. His wings drag behind him, feathers collecting dust as he pads his way to the river, kneeling on its sandy banks. He doesn't care about the sand clinging to the cotton of his pants, doesn't care about the itchy feeling of it tangling in his wings and the feathers of his tail. He cups his hands, dipping them into the cold water, throwing it onto his face, wincing as the water connects with his scales, steaming; a gentle comforting hiss. He peeks at his reflection in the river's gently shifting waters; feathered and scaled wings slowly rising, folding behind him, his uncertain face wavering in the river's gurgling water.

He sighs, his gaze narrowing on the reflection of his wings, spreading them, watching the shifting of brown and black, feathers and scales. He frowns, turning toward his right wing, picking at a feather, eventually pulling it out. The sharp pain is almost comforting as his feather is removed from his wing, gripped tightly in his hands. He stares at it for a moment, twisting it in his fingers. He feels- better. As if tearing off that feather was like tearing off a nightmare that could potentially haunt him. Tentatively, he lets the feather drop from his hand, reaching to pull out another, hesitantly, flinching as the stinging pain comes. He finds he likes it- the momentary pain that came with a second of relief. Before he knows what he's doing, he has a fistfull of feathers clasped in his hands, slightly trembling. Steam rises from his eyes.

He should have figured this out sooner, back when hiding his wings was a necessity rather than a preference. If he had plucked out his feathers, he may have actually lived up to the image they had created of him- a perfect draconic god. He hesitates, dropping the feathers on the sand next to him, sighing as he watches the water creep into them , greedily soaking through them, pulling them to the bottom of the river. He watches them fade from view, wings outstretched on either side of him, laying on the coarse sand. He plucks idly at his hair, lost in thought, rocking lightly back and forth. It hurts a little- the sand melting into lumps around his feathers and hands, stuck to him. He'll clean it out later, when the sun wakes him again, if he manages to sleep. He drags a glass coated claw in the water in front of him, absently watching as the ripples spread from his touch, eventually dissipating into nothing. It reminds him of those moments with his sister back when they were young; the moments where they played in the lake together and he accidentally burnt all the fish. He lowers his head onto his knees.

He misses Myn, misses her voice, her stupid sleeptalking, her presence. It's been almost a year since he's seen his sister, and it's worth it for the dofus, but it's hard. He wishes she were here right now, so he could hug her and ask her what to do. He sighs, realizing that he had been pulling feathers from his tail- the raven-like plumage littering the sand around him. In a way, it's comforting- that same sharp pain from earlier turning into a sort of a dull ache. He pushes a feather towards the waters of the river, watching it drown in the depths. He sighs, wiping tears that haven't fallen yet, tears that have yet to turn to smoke. He doesn't want to go back to sleep yet, back into the nightmare's arms. He sits and watches the river instead, the lotuses on it periodically swaying and losing petals. His ear flicks as a blanket is thrown over him and someone sits down next to him, sand shifting to cling to the other dragon's white scales. He turns, facing the dragon as he leans on his side. It's comforting, pulling him out of his haze. Adamai reaches forward with those opalescent hands of his- a subtle gradient of pale blue, grabbing one of his plucked out feathers. He looks up,blue and brown eyes meeting olive green.

"Did you get the nightmares again?" He simply nods. Adamai understands, twining a pale tail with his own, scales against scales. The other's touches are cold, comforting against his own burning scales. He finds himself leaning into the contact.

"Naz, you know that if you have these dreams, you can just wake me. I know you do the same for me." Adamai cups his face, turning it to him gently. He sighs, his eyes drifting from the smaller dragon's gaze.

"Okay." Naz murmurs. He knows that he won't. The guardian picks at the class on his claws again, peeling it off, not making eye contact. Adamai doesn't push, instead taking one of the black dragon's hands into his own, holding it between his. Naz looks at his face again.

"What was the dream this time?" He asks, tone gentle. His eyes are softened with sleep, his hair a mess of curls and tangles, blonde and silver meshing together as the winter stealthily slides into spring, his lashes hang over his eyes, a gentle blue with hints of brown in it, irises unevenly split. Naz likes Adamai's eyes, thinking of them like metal; like copper oxidizing. Naz hesitates to answer the question, turning his gaze away from those sleep-warm eyes, his mind rushing to flashes of pink energy with white stares, shifting to match his shape, chains being poured on him until he feels he cannot breathe, a trough of dead bodies around six colorful dofus, each cracking in a way that signals destruction, the incomprehensible feeling of dread and regret. The words are on the tip of his tongue, ready to fall like the feathers he had plucked out of his wings, to litter the sand with a dark stain. He pauses.

"Nothing." He says instead. It's hard to look at Adamai, so he looks away, focusing on the gurgling river. They sit in silence for a while, a dragon of ice and a dragon of fire, a dragon of scales and a dragon of feathers. Yin and Yang. Adamai shoves his shoulder into Naz's side lightly. He looks down at his face

"Can you tell me when we wake up?" He asks.

"If I remember." Adamai nods.

"Then can you tell me why there are feathers on the sand?" Naz looks away. He feels- ashamed? Embarrassed?

"They're- my feathers." He says this in a quiet tone, a little shaky. Adamai tilts his head.

"Did you pull them out?" Naz hesitates.

"Yes." A whisper. Adamai squeezes Naz's hand a little tighter.

"Wake me next time."

"Okay." Adamai leans his head on naz's shoulder, pulling the blanket he had brought tighter around them. He closes his eyes, resting his own head on Adamai's, comforted by the feeling of his hair on his scales. The silence is prominent, but it's a good one. The flowing of the river is the only thing that cuts through it. Naz likes the sound, the way it softens the moment even more. Adamai yawns, wrapping his arms around Naz's own. He sighs, pulling Adamai into his arms, standing up heavily. The blanket falls from his shoulders and he picks it up with his tail, curling around the soft fabric. Adamai looks up at him, eyelids heavy over his eyes. Naz manages a small smile. He feels comforted- the coolness of Ad's scales on his own reminds him of the first time he saw snow. He walks to the platform of their shared nest, his tail slightly wagging as adamai cuddles in closer to his chest, purring lightly. He steps up on the raised edge of the nest, placing Adamai down in it, joining him almost immediately. Cold arms make their way around his shoulders and he responds by wrapping his own feathered arms around the other dragon's waist, pulling him close to him. He can't help but allow the rumbling purr that erupts from his chest, matched by Adamai's own.

"Sweet dreams." A murmur, pressed to his forehead with blue lips. He smiles.

"G'night."

Adamai's purrs and cold scales lull him back into sleep, away from the arms of his previous nightmares, away from anything but gentle thoughts and warm feelings.