CHAPTER FOUR ♔ does it run in your blood to betray the ones you love

[coldheritage]

♬ The Truth - Nonpoint

WHO || Failboat, Rafael, Isabella, Nadia  [Closed]
WHAT || After an exciting Grammy night, the Knights meet up with Nadia to hear what she has to say
WHERE || Staples Center, LA -->  Warehouse
WHEN || Feb 8th, 2015  [back dated]
HOW || Actionspam

[  The Knights' mission to stop the signal and prevent Draken's cult from spreading whatever subliminal message  was lurking beneath Keijen Blade's performance was a success.  It didn't come without its bumps in the road, however:  Alexander Anderson showed up, and the Knights ran afoul of the Mind Master.    Buffy nearly died fighting Anderson, but in the end, he was defeated, beheaded, and hopefully put to death forever.   Finnick, though, found himself thrust into a mental illusion that convinced him he might still be in the Hunger Games, and left him uncertain about whether any of his life here was real.  

Another surprise came in the form of an announcement by Nadia Reichenov, an artist working with Crombe and company, that she was changing her band name and taking things in a 'new direction'.   This direction was perhaps revealed when after her performance, she approached the Knights in Rafael's dressing room - and handed them the necklace that connects her to the Nightmare God Malaak'a, saying she was willing to tell them everything.  ]

Comments

[romanticidal]

[ his little smile reaches his eyes at her understanding, at her acceptance, relief there as he lays his head down against the pillow, his body relaxing easily towards the sleep it craves so much right now, even as he keeps her securely encircled with his arm. ] Buonanotte, mia carina.

[slay]

Good night.

[ She concludes, interpreting smoothly. Turning away again, she presses her back flush against his chest and settles in to drift off to sleep. She readily falls asleep, but the night is interrupted—restless and plagued by nightmares.

It starts with the disfigured, demonic shift of Spike's true face. She runs through darkness, heels splashing through puddles of rain, but it's all obscure and ephemeral. Somewhere far away, a subway rattles on tracks.

The sharp stab of a blessed bayonet through her gut brings her to what feels more real, and she looks up to Alexander Anderson's smiling visage reminding her of what she is. What she's done.

No small amount of tossing, turning—thrashing, even—accompanies the horrors that rise up to strike against her unconscious mind. ]

[romanticidal]

[ ♬ shout about it - the vamps

cries b/c he got a nat 20 listen check that drags him out of sleep in the middle of the night. he tries to wake her gently at first, but more insistently if necessary, his hand curved around her shoulder as he leans over her, dark brows knitted together in concern, as he tries to rouse her with comforting words, to pull her out of herself (diplomacy 25). ] Buffy...

Buffy, it is alright. Come back to me here.

[slay]

[ The process of waking her briefly worsens it, a physical component to an abstract mental fear. She wrenches her arm free from him (str 18), but catches herself in time to stop from lashing out at him (ref 19), sitting up quickly. A shout bubbles out of her throat as she comes to with such suddenness that she doesn't realize where she is immediately.

Glancing around, she lets out a few panicked breaths, adrenaline spiking. She reaches out for him, anchoring herself by gripping his arm even as she doesn't look at him right away. Sweat forms a thin sheen on her chest and face, frizzing her hair.

Slowly, realizing her safety, she disarms, then glances down towards him. An apology starts forming when she's still looking through him, eyes out of focus, but it doesn't come out until she fixes her gaze on his tired face. ] Sorry.

[ Reaching up, she pushes hair out of her face. ] It was— I thought … [ He's dead. She killed him, they decapitated him, his body is rotting in Alainn's vault. Jerky movements help her back down to his level. ] Are you okay?

[romanticidal]

[ he waves off her concern for him with a small gesture ] I am fine, carina. It is you I was worried about. [ his fingers curve bravely through her hair, studying her face intently ] It is not enough that we face such perils in the day, it seems, but they must also haunt us at night. [ he grimaces a bit, meeting her eyes ] Perhaps we should expect nothing less, when we deal with a god of nightmares.

[ his voice softens as he asks: ] Is it something you wish to talk about?

[slay]

[ She continues working to catch her breath, holding his gaze. Confusion mingles with concern as she affirms that it's not real, that it's behind her. One hand rubs the slope of her neck, working out the tension that built up. A quick glance over at the window tells her it's still not light out. ]

It wasn't — [ wis 19, she remembers to stop herself from the name. ] Him. It was … It was Anderson. [ And she sounds put-out by the admission. ] He was alive. And I think Spike was there. [ The crease of her forehead says she's not quite sure what the progression of that was or what was happening. She shakes her head to dismiss it, leveling her eyes on Rafael's again. ] He's really gone.

[romanticidal]

He is, si. He will never trouble us again, Buffy. [ except he knows it's not as easy as that, that he'll be troubling her heart and mind for a long time, and that's why he lifts a hand gently to her temple now, as if he can soothe her thoughts with a grounding touch ] That fear is over.

[slay]

[ Though she nods, her eyes still look faintly lost. But she trusts him in affirming what she herself began to doubt when her dreams tried to deceive her into fear; she lets her faith in Rafael be her anchor, and she settles back in beside him, staring off at the wall for a long moment as she processes his words and works through the panic.

Her breath evens out, and she seems to accept the assessment. That fear might be over, but there will be others. That thought plagues her yet. It won't do her any good to dwell on Keijen and the Mind Master now, though; she's not going to swing out at 4 in the morning to do battle barefoot in shredded formalwear.

She holds onto his hand, squeezing it to show how important it is to her that he's there. If she'd woken up from that alone, it— It wouldn't have been good. But she's not alone anymore. ]

[romanticidal]

[ he's content to hold her in silence for a bit, settling his chin on top of her head as he does so. finally, he says quietly: ] Is this often? These dreams?

[slay]

[ Brushing her thumb over the back of his hand, she lulls herself into a more peaceful repose. His question doesn't startle her out of it, but she does take her time in answering. There's real thought there. The metronome of touch sweeping across his hand carries on in the silence. ]

Not all the time. And they're always different. Different places, different demons, even I'm different in them. But it's always me, and they always end bloody.

[ Just like she will. She gets it now, now that Faith and Robin have explained. ]

[romanticidal]

Do you know? What this means. [ he's clearly straining to understand, puzzle it out through the haze of sleep still half clouding his mind. ]

[slay]

Other than chronic insomnia?

[ The humor in her voice is dry. ]

Not really. [ She turns to glance up at him briefly, expression soft. ] It's okay. I'm used to it, and … It's not usually this bad. [ There's the added murder-guilt component. She's quietly hoping that it's not setting a new trend of some kind. ]

[romanticidal]

Still... I wish there was something more I could do. [ there's a precious earnest quality to his words, like he's really thinking about how he could possibly help, even if it's really not in his power. finally, he seems to admit defeat for now, and buries his lips against her hair with a soft hum. ] Do you want me to wake you, if they return?

[slay]

[ She snuggles against him, her thoughtful sigh hardly a hum through pursed lips. ]

Only if I keep you up. [ It wouldn't be the first time she's suffered through it to morning. Sharing a room with Myri for some time has led her to believe that it's not often the case that she keeps anyone up with it. ] I'll be okay. [ She raises his hand to her lips, a quick kiss. ] Go back to sleep.

[romanticidal]

You first. [ the words are mumbled with some humor, but there's nothing to back them up really because he drifts off within like

twenty seconds of saying them... ]

[slay]

[ Adorable. It's only once she glances back, realizing he's already out, that a real smile breaks across Buffy's face for the first time in too long. It's wide and enamored as she takes in the subtle shifts in his expression the deeper sleep takes him. She cuddles up close with no particular trouble falling asleep after that, and nothing but pleasant dreams to follow now that she's certain of his comforting presence. ]