oo4. haven't slept for weeks, drink some of this. it'll put color in your cheeks

[hotfrombehind]

[ action ; open ]

[Pyro is just walking around, like usual Mayfield. But today he looks a lot more tired than usual: his steps falter and sometimes he looks close to falling on his face. Every time he trips on himself, he manages to get back up, muttering to himself. Approach him if you dare.]

[ phone ; open ]

[A few hours and a short nap later, Pyro

Comments

[ooeeooahah]

[ The rapid shift in his dreams caught Ilsa unaware. She has to stop herself from her instinctive reaction to hold the dreamer until the become aware of their surroundings, knowing how Pyro shies away from touch. That doesn't stop her from projection heavy doses of calm, safe haven and openness to talk, though. ]

Pyro! It's okay, emergency over...

[ She's stopped within arm's reach of him, ready to move forward or back as needed. ]

[hotfrombehind]

[His eyes dart all over the room. It's... Well, the place isn't on fire and people aren't screaming at him anymore. It's just... quiet. Really quiet. He can't find it in himself to feel the eerie silence eat at him as his gaze falls on Ilsa.]

Mmn. I wasn't-- being loud or anythin', yeah?

[He rubs at his eyes and arches his back, stretching.]

[ooeeooahah]

Maybe a little at the end...

[ Ilsa perches on the end of the couch near his feet. Just... listening. ]

[hotfrombehind]

[Once he's done stretching, he slumps his shoulders.]

Sorry. People can get real fuckin' loud in here-- [He gestures to his head.] I keep thinkin', y'know, them screamin' ain't gonna change that they're fuckin' dyin', the shitheads, bet they're just doing it to annoy me.

[ooeeooahah]

[ No change in her expression, but she shakes her head. ]

Sometimes you just got to let it out, and screaming's one way to do it.

[hotfrombehind]

I guess... It just-- attracts a lot of attention sometimes, people don't need to see this shit. [He grumbles and reclines against the couch.]

[ooeeooahah]

Look, I know you don't like to sleep, but maybe I can help the next time you need to rest.

... if you're okay with having nonsense dreams, that is.

[hotfrombehind]

Nonsense dreams are a lot better than the fucking nightmares I get almost every time I sleep. I just-- y'know. How can I know I won't get the nightmares if you let me sleep?

[ooeeooahah]

Trust me.

You have to sleep here every three days, at least, to avoid getting droned. I can monitor you for some deep sleep hours, and work out the knots with you.

[ She shrugs, ] I know it's not ideal, having to rely on someone else, but I'm willing to help.

[hotfrombehind]

I-- [He bites the inside of his cheek.] Okay. If you say so.

I do, usually! I mean-- haven't gotten caught yet. Spend a few hours here on and off, dunno if you really notice me or not. Kinda like to move around at odd hours.

[He wrings his hands together.] I know you are. Isn't that your thing? But really, I-- miss-- sleeping. So it'd be-- kinda nice to be able to do it again, even if it's not exactly natural.

[ooeeooahah]

[ She holds out her hand to him, palm up, ]

Want to try to sleep a little now?

[hotfrombehind]

Um. [He eyes her hand before giving a slow nod.] Yeah. Yeah, sounds good.

[Extends his own hand, just hovering near hers, wondering if he was doing the right thing.

[ooeeooahah]

[ She waits, calmly, for him to commit to the touch. ]

[hotfrombehind]

[Finally, after sucking it up and getting over his hesitation, he takes her hand.]

[ooeeooahah]

[ Nothing seems to happen for a moment, her hand is warm, and holds his lightly. ]

[ He might start to feel relaxed, warm and sheltered without smothering. ]

[ She begins to hum softly, a lullaby he might have heard before, if his subconscious remembers. ]

[ Ilsa doesn't appear to be doing anything else, outwardly. Weaving a framework for his dreams to be pleasant nonsense takes a bit of concentration. ]

Sorry, Hieronymus Bosch.

[hotfrombehind]

[Although at first he seems to fight it, it is and always will be his first instinct to, it doesn't take long for him to fall asleep. He droops against the couch, his chin tucked against his chest.

Although at first he eventually winds up at that final house, the one that got him in jail and lead him to BLU, there are no screams, no fire, no death and fear and guilt. It slowly fades away into a swirl of colors and giant flowers. Flying fish pass by him and animals with musical notes for heads dance along a bright paradise. This could probably occupy his mind long enough to keep his sleep deprived body down for a while.]