SOMNUS
It was hard to really know what to expect with Ulric. The man was keen and capable, stubborn and loyal, fierce but oh so gentle. He would not be so easily swayed by carefully thought out words spoken patiently or barked orders in anger to leave me alone. Somnus already knew the look he would get, the pensive frown and perhaps a roll of golden eyes followed by a sarcastic remark to just ’stop being stupid, Twinkle Toes’, and so he merely heaved a long, fatigued sigh. There was no point hiding his emotional state from one that he had known for so long, from the one that knew him best.
They both understood loss. They understood pain. Now, more than ever, Somnus was grateful to have Ulric in his life, grateful to have someone who knew him so well, knew his sins and transgressions, and did not judge him for it.
Oriens bless you eternal, my friend.
Even at the following words, inquiring about Vallen’s late-King, the Regent could not hold his Warden’s warrior stare. Emerald eyes, swimming with the agony of loss and heartache, drifted away to focus on a row of books. He stared without truly seeing them. For a long while he was silent, both physically and mentally. It had been a long time since his mind had tried to disassociate, but here he was, like a fool, standing in a very public place while his mind both slowed down and sped up, frantically trying to figure everything out. He was always the man with the plan. Somnus had contingency plans for his contingency plans… But there was no ‘plan B’ for this. It simply was, and he had to rally against the storm.
“... Like the fool that I am, yes,” he murmured in answer, the root of the reason for his poor mood laid bare for all to see, “What’s done is done, Ulric. I shouldn’t be plagued like this. He is gone and we are still here, his last order fulfilled, and that should be enough, but I…” The Regent’s eyes darkened, his face taking on a look of insurmountable pain, then anger, before it all melted away into a look of sheer exhaustion. “... I fear that it will never be enough.”
That it would never stop hurting and burning, that the wound of loss would never scar and instead continue to fester and bleed. When would it grow easy? When would the nightmares stop? Waking to a quiet, lonely room gasping the name of his long-dead King?
Suddenly the grand library felt far too small, like the walls were closing in. Somnus heaved a breath, anxiety bubbling in his chest and making it hard to breathe, and he once more looked to Ulric. Cautious. Desperate. “... I can’t stay here. Please, help me from this place. I need some air.” The stacks and shelves of books, once so soothing and comforting, now seemed to suffocate him. He needed air, fresh air, needed to feel the breeze in his face and the sun upon his back.
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