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Post by excalibur on Nov 13, 2012 1:32:44 GMT -5
It had been three days since a kind passerby in the village had brought the two of them, two teenagers who had teleported into the center of the town covered in blood, into the Inn -- Refia had only remained conscious long enough to plead someone for help. She had woken up many hours later, her head still pounding, and discovered that whoever had dropped them off had also paid for their room. They would be able to stay as long as it took for them to recover, for which she was immensely grateful.
Since then, Refia had spent most of her time by Ingus' side. His wounds had been severe -- and he still hadn't regained consciousness. She had taken it upon herself to take care of him until he awoke ... but it was difficult. For the first time, she saw how truly broken her friend was. He trembled and cried out in his sleep, constantly plagued by nightmares; what had happened to him? When they had traveled together, Ingus hadn't so much as talked when he dreamed.
Now, it was like he had been smashed to pieces and messily glued back together with a few of the shards missing.
The first time it had happened, Refia had cried. She didn't want to see him falling apart, but what was there for her to do? It occured frequently, his bouts of hysterics, and Refia soon found herself running to his side and holding his hand each time. "It's okay, Ingus," she would murmur, squeezing his hand. "It'll be all right. I'm here, I'm here. Nothing's going to hurt you."
Refia had received a few questions from some of the more curious people staying in the Inn, but she had always responded with a small smile and "He's just a friend." There was no need for her to give those people an impression of what could never happen. She did her best to keep up the 'friend' pretense -- but whether she was trying to convince those other people or herself, she wasn't quite sure.
And yet, when she was sure nobody was looking, she would sometimes thread their fingers together and stroke his golden hair. She would gently run her fingertips over his tired, beautiful face and cradle it in her hand. She knew that it was useless; but, at least while he was asleep, she could imagine what it would be like if maybe, just maybe ...
No.
Refia pulled her hands back.
She was being ridiculous.
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Post by HAUTECLERE on Nov 13, 2012 16:15:57 GMT -5
Ingus was paying the consequences of neglecting his body. But this was precisely the reason why he had forced himself to stay awake, done everything and anything to keep his eyes open. The darkness swarmed his vision, and he was swimming through the pitch black shadows. He could not see the metal blades that rubbed against each other, but he could hear them coming closer and closer. His throat strained, as if to scream, but the most that he could make was the slightest of whimpers.
Each time the laughter, the metal, and the coldness came too close, Ingus felt something warm close around his hand. Sometimes, he would feel something running through his hair, or press itself against his face. The slight warmth was a beacon for him as he wandered about in the shadows, and he felt the panic that quickly rose in his chest suddenly ease away. He'd find a lit oil lamp clutched in his hands that he never recalled picking up, and sometimes he'd sit awhile with its flame flickering at his side, waiting for the storms to pass.
His eyelids fluttered as he suddenly realized that he was very warm, as if buried under layers of blankets. Afternoon light assaulted his vision, and Ingus was quick to shut his eyes again. But he was torn between the stinging in his eyes and the prospect of returning back to his nightmares. He chose the former, blinked twice, as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. His voice felt hoarse, as if he had often cried out in his sleep, just as he recalled doing so in his dreams.
Ingus took a deep, weary breath. The silence of where he laid was a reprieve from the howling winds of the elements. For once in a very long time, he felt relaxed. Or, perhaps, he was only wearier from being wracked with an onslaught of bad dreams for seventy-two hours. This was the real world now though, and he began to tell himself that there was daylight, that he was untouchable. It became a mantra that ran through his head.
There was a shred of familiarity in the room. Ingus presumed that he was at an inn, but after sleeping at so many during his journey as a Warrior of Light, all the rooms in different villages began to look the same. The memories suddenly flooded him, bumping into Refia, holding off the Behemoth, Refia's cracking voice that was the only thing that had kept him awake as he bled from his side.
And then, he remembered everything. His lips barely moved as he tried to make his tired, hoarse voice work again to speak a name.
"... Refia?"
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Post by excalibur on Nov 13, 2012 17:38:53 GMT -5
She had been pacing around the room, anxious; when would he finally wake up? Was it normal to be unconscious for this long? Refia was beginning to worry that something terrible had happened, that he would never wake up from this -- when she heard it. Ingus' voice.
It was weak, cracked, and barely a sound at all -- but she recognized it. "Ingus?" she gasped, spinning around. "You're awake!" (Clearly. If Refia hadn't been so ecstatic to see his eyes open, she would have berated herself for being so redundant.) With a wide grin on her face, she swiftly moved to his side. "Took you long enough!" she teased lightheartedly.
Now that Ingus was conscious, she could feel a massive weight being lifted off of her shoulders and her heart soared in her chest.
"Do -- do you need anything? Water? Food?" She was still guilty for letting this happen in the first place, of course; she resolved to do anything to make it up to him. But even that guilt wasn't enough to dampen her suddenly bright mood.
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Post by HAUTECLERE on Nov 13, 2012 17:48:10 GMT -5
It was comforting to awaken with at least a shred of familiarity in his surroundings. Ingus for a moment again, trying to think. How long had he been asleep for? He had lost track of time entirely as he wandered about in the dark. It was Refia's words, however, that clued him in that his lights were out for longer than he thought. But he didn't want to start bothering Refia with logistical questions, not while she seemed so happy to see him. So he opened his eyes again with a thoughtful expression on his face, and replied with, "Later."
Ingus wasn't sure that he would be able to properly swallow anyways, after all those disturbing images from his dreams danced across his mind. Something did gnaw away at his stomach, and his throat was parched. He felt that he had not eaten food nor drunk water for more than a day. It was not too uncommon of a feeling for the knight though.
He peeled back the covers and managed to sit up, if not, without a bit of a struggle to hold himself up. Ingus noticed that his tattered clothing had been replaced by a white undershirt and loose pants. He suspected that his previous outfit was beyond repair anyways. Leaning against the headrest of the bed, Ingus tugged the blanket lightly so that it leaned upon his chest and draped over his shoulders. He pressed the heel of his palm into an eye, still not fully awake yet.
"I'm... sorry for worrying you," he said finally. Awake for barely a couple of minutes, and the only thing that Ingus could think to do was apologize. There were other questions running through his head though, like how much had she heard while he was unconscious?
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Post by excalibur on Nov 13, 2012 18:00:37 GMT -5
Refia was clearly not pleased with him refusing any sustenance -- she did not trust this boy to feed himself -- but let the issue slide. After all, what counted was that he was awake. She could deal with the other technicalities at a later time, when he didn't look quite so ... fragile. It was more noticeable, now that he was up and moving, how gaunt his face was and how hollow his eyes seemed.
The girl was about to protest him sitting up -- no, he still needed to rest! -- before realizing that he had just done three days' worth of rest. (Of course, letting him romp around on another Chocobo and swing his sword like a madman was still completely out of the question.) "Take it easy," she warned. "Don't want you fainting on me." Her tone was stern, but there was an amused twinkle in her eyes.
The expression, however, was quickly replaced with one of exasperation. “It’s my job to worry about you, stupid.” She reached out to affectionately ruffle his hair. “Besides, it’s ... my fault, anyway.” How could she ever blame him for this? Ingus had done nothing wrong. His life had literally been in her hands, and she had almost let it drop.
“I -- are you feeling all right?” she added, pausing for the briefest moment. Refia wanted to ask about him, about his nightmares -- but now probably wasn’t the best time to bring it up. Maybe it would be better to stick to the ... safer subjects.
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Post by HAUTECLERE on Nov 13, 2012 18:12:05 GMT -5
It was a very broad question that Refia was asking Ingus. Physically, he was a little lightheaded from being in a comatose state for three days, but aside from that, he found that he was mostly all right. He felt just fine. The other aspect of health though, he was greatly troubled. Ingus did not think that he was very healthy. He should know better than to lie to Refia by now, and answered with an honest, "No," before adding, "If... I had said yes, you would know that it was not true."
His stormy eyes dropped back to his lap as Refia gently tousled his hair. Years prior to their travels, he would not have allowed her to so much as touch him, but things were different now, not just with Refia, but with Luneth and Arc as well. A special kind of bond tended to form when a handful of children were tasked with saving the world. Ingus stifled a yawn, and saw the guilt written all over Refia's face. Perhaps one day, he'd be able to assure her that getting hurt had been an accident, and nobody's fault. He feared how the situation would have been, had their roles been reversed. Ingus had faith in his white magic, but his magic extents were still limited as a Red Mage, and he was built to take a few more hits than her anyways.
There was no arguing that Refia made it her personal job to worry over everyone she came into contact with. The young woman had a mother hen streak in her, one that Luneth used to tease her about. Arc would never admit it, but Ingus suspected the young bookworm secretly enjoyed the way she clucked over him. He suspected that Refia would only worry more, if she had been in his room as he slept. His hands went cold, and he paled as he tried his hardest not to think about what he had seen.
Suddenly, he wished he had food after all to take his mind off of everything. "Did you stay here?" he asked vaguely.
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Post by excalibur on Nov 13, 2012 18:21:10 GMT -5
Refia laughed. “Damn straight.” That was good; if he tried to hide things from her, she’d have known it was worse than he was willing to let on. No; best that he tell her everything before it was too late for her to do anything about it.
The girl’s eyebrows furrowed at her friend’s question. “Stay here?” she echoed, tilting her head to the side. "In the Inn? Yeah." There was a note of confusion in her voice -- where else would she have stayed? Ingus should have known her well enough to figure out that she would never have left him here, alone. "I mean ..."
Oh.
Was he -- was he maybe talking about his ... Refia bit her lip, trying to avoid the subject. "Well, my bed's over there." She pointed to a neatly-made bed on the other side of the room. What she didn't mention was that she spent most of the nights in the wooden chair next to Ingus; he surely would have objected if he found out.
Maybe Ingus would bring that up first. "... Why?"
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Post by HAUTECLERE on Nov 13, 2012 18:34:04 GMT -5
Ingus' eyes wandered to the very wooden chair that Refia had spent many twilight hours in, but decided not to probe. Instead, he gave her a slight shake of the head. "I felt someone near," he replied quietly. What he really meant, was that he felt somebody squeeze his hand while he was unconscious, that someone had run their fingers through his blond hair, and it had provided him some comfort while wandering about in the recesses of his mind. Instead, he fell silent again without the strength to speak. He didn't understand, for he knew that he had rested upon the inn's bed for quite some time.
He was torn between feeling ashamed of how fearful he was for the future and feeling relieved that Refia probably had a good idea what was going on in his head without him having to fully explain. Ingus swallowed thickly, eyes wandering over to Refia's bed with its smooth sheets. He then examined his own, noticing how the covers were lopsided and wrinkled. How many times a night had he roused Refia from her sleep with his writhing and whimpering?
Ingus had a talent for not fully answering questions, and he was surprised that Refia had understood the cryptic and careful way he had worded his reply to her initial question. It was true then, that she had heard his cries in the night. Ingus began to wonder if she had seen the tears as well, or if he'd been lucky enough to have them dried by the time there was enough daylight to see in the mornings. He couldn't tell her yet; he was too ashamed of himself.
His stomach suddenly let out an embarrassingly loud growl.
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Post by excalibur on Nov 13, 2012 19:13:24 GMT -5
She worked hard to hide the blush that crept up her neck and threatened to turn her face into the same shade of red as her hair. The fact that he might be able to feel something, even when asleep, hadn't crossed her mind -- what if he connected the dots, and found her out? She wouldn't be able to explain herself to him if he asked.
Thankfully, he didn't. "Must've been your imagination or something," she lied. "Who knows what freaky stuff your brain can pull out, y'know?" She could never let him find out. Not now, not ever. Refia didn't want to see the disgust in his eyes, or have him grow distant from her again -- no, it was better this way. She could stay with him as long as they were just friends.
A laugh escaped her when she heard his stomach. "So you are hungry," she snorted. "Gimme a sec." With swift movements, the girl plucked a fruit knife and a fresh, bright red apple from a nearby stand. The girl peeled it and began to thinly slice it up, putting the pieces of the fruit onto a plate. When she was done, she poured some cold water from a pitcher into a glass and held out both the fruit and the drink at him.
"Here you go."
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Post by HAUTECLERE on Nov 13, 2012 19:37:29 GMT -5
Ingus nodded idly at Refia's comment, grimly realizing that out of the two of them, he should have known the best what kinds of bizarre figments of the imagination the mind could make seem real. "Yes, perhaps," he replied, eyes closing for a bit as he meditated. It was perfectly plausible that he had imagined the slight touches. Though now that he really thought about it, it disturbed him that a stranger's touch could have provided him such comfort. And for a second there, he had thought it might have been Refia. He wouldn't have minded.
He watched carefully as Refia began to smoothly peel the apple from the stand. Ingus wondered if apples were her favorite fruits. This was the second time he had seen her with one, the first time being while they were still on the outskirts of the Village of the Ancients. That was probably where they were now. It did make sense. Ingus felt a little more comfortable knowing that they weren't in the middle of nowhere, and took the plate and glass of water in his hands. He balanced the plate of apples in his lap and took a deep gulp of water from the glass. The water immediately soothed his parched throat, and he did not stop until he had finished the entire glass.
Ingus moved onto the apples once he set the glass upon the night table again. He lifted a slice of apple between his thumb and index finger, taking a small bite into it. Ingus tended to be a very clean and dainty eater. Luneth often liked to point it out as something to tease the knight about. But around Refia, he didn't mind what he looked like as he ate. The first bite was experimental, as if to see how his taste buds would react after not eating anything for days. When the first piece went down his throat and easily settled in his stomach, he slid the rest of it into his mouth, chewing, savoring the flavor.
He picked up the next slice, and didn't stop until he had finished. Only when the plate was empty did he realize that he had not left any for Refia. "... Have you eaten?"
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Post by excalibur on Nov 13, 2012 20:55:55 GMT -5
Refia smiled warmly at Ingus as she watched him drink and eat. It seemed his appetite was back, which was definitely good news; in time, she could probably get him to eat that much (and more, obviously -- an apple wasn't enough even for breakfast) when he wasn't starving. Ingus had a strange way of eating. Unlike her, who dug into her food as if she would never get another bite, he ate with a kind of grace. Luneth used to laugh, since it was definitely more of an effeminate way of eating, but ... well, to be honest, Refia found it incredibly cute.
... No, wait. She wasn't supposed to be thinking things like that.
She also wasn't supposed to be staring at his lips, so the girl quickly glanced away before her face flushed and the pain stabbed at her chest once more. Refia pretended to busy herself with staring at the cracks in the ceiling and walls while he ate, and only looked back when he asked her a question.
"Uhm ... no, not yet," she replied -- before hastily adding, "but I'm gonna go get something soon." He needed the food more than she did, after all. "Don't worry about it."
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Post by HAUTECLERE on Nov 13, 2012 21:09:53 GMT -5
Ingus slid the clean plate and empty glass onto the night table, and slid his hands under the covers again. He wondered if the hole in his stomach had been from the lack of food or from the uneasiness that always plagued his mind after he woke from a nightmare. They varied from eve to eve, glimpses into his quest with the other Warriors of Light. The only difference was that things had a tendency to go awfully wrong. The most recent one that haunted Ingus the most was after the Cloud of Darkness' Particle Beam had sent all of them beyond the abyss. He knew what it felt like to die, or at least, come very close to it, and he relived it every night.
It suddenly occurred to Ingus that his shoulders were bare, and he began to wonder where his clothes had gone. He was not too worried about his Red Mage wear, especially because it had the bizarre ability to mend itself once he switched into a different job class. But considering the low amount of energy he possessed, Ingus did not think that he could comfortably transition into a Freelancer. The gauntlets and greaves would be quite troublesome in bed anyways.
His eyes wandered around the room, as if looking for a spare shirt. The inn room was rather bare though, and really only consisted of two beds, a desk, and a chair that Ingus assumed used to be tucked under it. He didn't mind being left alone as she slipped out to grab something to eat, but it made him uneasy to let her out of his sight. Ingus new that he was being irrational, and this seemed to bother him. "You will eat soon though?" he asked her, and realized how ironic it was for him to ask that question, considering the lack of food he himself had eaten.
Speaking of food, Ingus was surprised that he'd been able to hold the apple down in his stomach. It wasn't too difficult. All he had to do was try as best as he could not to relive any of those potentially finishing blows that Refia could have suffered during their journeys that he had seen flashed before his eyes too many times. It was getting harder to differentiate between reality and dreams. Refia," he began, "nothing... was with us in this room?" The room had to be safe from Haine, Xande, Clouds of Darkness, and Krakkens, no?
He wondered how Luneth and Arc were, if they were faring any better than him.
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Post by excalibur on Nov 13, 2012 21:22:24 GMT -5
"Yes, yes, I'll eat later," she sighed. Ingus had no business in worrying about her; over and over again, she wondered how she could get him to take care of himself first and foremost.
Her eyes flashed, however, when he asked if they had been alone. There was something in his voice that told her this was important -- that this question was more than it seemed. Her mind recalled his pained groans and choked sobs throughout the night, and Refia moved to stand beside his bed, wrapping an arm around him. "Nothing," she reassured him.
She could guess what he was referring to. "Nothing." Refia felt a strange pull in her heart. "Ingus --" Could she ask? Should she? "Ingus, why ... d'you think there's things here?" Her voice was soft. "They're all -- they're gone, Inugs." The Darkness had been vanquished years ago. "It's okay now."
Refia gazed intently at him with her ruby-red eyes. "Do you -- still see them? At night?"
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Post by HAUTECLERE on Nov 13, 2012 21:36:10 GMT -5
Only when Refia spoke again did Ingus realize that he had been holding his breath. It was a sigh of relief. He hadn't thought that there were creatures lurking in the corners of the room either, but he needed somebody else to reassure Ingus that he was only being paranoid. He gave her a satisfied nod, a slight tilt of the head. "Nothing..." he repeated quietly, in a voice that would have been barely audible to Refia. "Y-yes, they are gone now." He no longer knew whether or not he was agreeing with Refia to comfort himself, or because he truly believed it.
Refia's arm had caught Ingus off guard, for he had slipped into his own thoughts. He gasped, and backed a bit into the headboard of his bed as his hand instinctively went to his thigh, searching for the grip of his sword. Only when he realized that it was not there did he spy it in the corner of the room, encased within its black scabbard. Ingus bit his lip as he lowered his head, to rest his chin atop Refia's arm.
"... I'm sorry," he said again, though this time, Ingus was not sure why he was sorry. He wanted to apologize for many things, for worrying her, for being too weak to fend off his nightmares. The paranoia, to him, was a massive weakness that he felt that he may never overcome. But Ingus was not the Light of Determintion for nothing, and each night, it was this stubbornness that had allowed him to go days with only a few hours of sleep.
He refused to make eye contact with her, too ashamed that he would be afraid of something that was clearly not real. At first, Ingus did not answer Refia's question, and instead, remained silent. But then he parted his lips, and let out a small, "... yes." Thrust into a pit of Medusa's snakes, Gutsco's grotesque form, Kraken's legs squeezing the life out of him; each night brought a new terror.
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Post by excalibur on Nov 13, 2012 23:53:42 GMT -5
He had been afraid. He had made the reach for his weapon.
Refia resisted the urge to scream. No. No. This was so wrong. What had made him so afraid, that he even shrank back from her? "Don't apologize." Her tone was curt -- she had to force herself to stay calm. She should have gone to him before. She should have at least checked up on him, asked how he was doing; maybe she would have been able to stop -- stop this before it had happened. Or, at least, lessened the damage.
The more she thought about it, the more she saw him unraveling, and it scared her. Her strong, brave Ingus had turned into a shadow of his former self. His confirmation only served to make her hate herself more. She should have been there for him. How long had he been having these nightmares? How many times had he woken up in a cold sweat because he had been forced to relive the horrors they had faced?
She was no stranger to the nightmares -- she had them often when the calm had first arrived, but they had become more and more infrequent. The nightmares would never truly stop, she knew, but -- they did not plague her. They hadn't had such an effect on her, like they had on him.
The girl could not offer any more words of consolation. Refia was silent for a few moments, then pulled her arm back and clapped her hands together. "Well, then." She left his side and rummaged around the room for a simple button-up shirt, tossing it to Ingus. "Get dressed, pretty boy." Maybe, if she had him occupied, he could take his mind off of the terrors inside of his head.
"Our stupid Chocobos ran off, so we're gonna hafta go shopping for some more supplies -- an' probably some clothes." She slapped a grin on her face. "C'mon, Ingus. No time to waste, y'know?"
Refia hoped she could keep the panic out of her voice.
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