And now we say goodnight
Who: Berwald and Sindre
When: 22 Wednesday, Twilight
Where: Out on the streets
What: An unexpected run-in with a recently estranged friend.
Berwald: Berwald had lasted an entire day by keeping busy and not thinking about the first nightmare starring Sindre (admittedly, not the first *ever*, but before he'd usually been able to verify soon after he was all right), but the second night with yet another nightmare was too much for him. Still, somehow he stayed busy and managed not to think about it... until the evening fell, with the prospect of yet another restless night in front of him. And that was how he ended up wandering the streets a bit before sunset, aimlessly searching for Sindre.
Sindre: Sindre ducked under an overhang as he loped across the roof. He could get halfway across the city without ever having to come down to the street, and he wasn't looking forward to another run-in so soon. And it was a much quicker route to Berwald's. Even though he had checked around just two days ago, until he knew what had shifted on the streets--and something had shifted, otherwise he would be in working order--he wanted to keep a close eye on the place.
A glimpse of blond hair had him almost missing his next step and tumbling from the roofs. A second look told him yes, it was Berwald. He ran the calendar through his head, hoping that he had just gotten confused on the day. It'd happened before.
But no, he was right. This wasn't part of Berwald's routine. And of all the possible reasons he could come up with for Berwald to be outside the streets when normally he wouldn't be, not a one was good.
Without a thought, Sindre jumped to the ground, forgetting for a moment that his left knee had taken a hit yesterday and for one long, ugly moment, he thought it wouldn't hold. It did, though, and it was only a second more before he was at Berwald's side, grabbing his shoulders. "Y'okay? What's wrong?" he demanded, worry turning his voice harsh.
Berwald: Berwald turned quickly. Despite it having been a long time since he'd last been in battle, let alone in person and not from behind the controls of a ship, he still wasn't used to people shouting and grabbing him suddenly. As such, the look he first turned on Sindre was rather terrifying, and it only grew darker as he took in his bruised face. "What happened t' ya? An' where have you been?" he demanded without thought.
Sindre: "I got hit," Sindre shot back impatiently. "What's wrong? What made you go out?"
Berwald: Berwald was still looking him over, and there was something about his sleeve...Without asking, he grabbed Sindre's hand and pushed up his sleeve, staring wide eyed at the white bandages with blood seeping through them. He suddenly let go and took a step back, dragging his gaze away from the red stains with some difficulty. "I... none of yer b'sness," he mumbled, suddenly viscerally reminded just why it was a bad idea to allow himself to get close to Sindre. He'd just lose him, sooner or later, and it would be unbearable...
Sindre: Wincing at being grabbed, Sindre stared at Berwald, startled, as he suddenly stepped back. "It is my business, if you're not okay," he insisted, following him. "Now what is it? What made you leave home?"
Berwald: He'd wanted to see that Sindre was ok. Because of nightmares. It sounded insane. It probably *was* insane...Berwald shook his head in irritation. "Your arm ok?" he asked instead.
Sindre: Sindre barely glanced at it. "Still works," he replied. "But you have to tell what's wrong so I can do something about it."
Berwald: "You don't need to do anything about it!" Berwald growled at him.
Sindre: "Of course I do," Sindre snapped back. "You're one’a mine and I look out for mine! And even if not, this is supposed to be my area, so I gotta make sure it stays that way!"
Berwald: "You..." his words stumbled as he just stared at Sindre, not knowing what to think. 'One of his'...what was that supposed to even mean? That it was just one of his jobs to make sure Berwald hadn't dropped dead? Granted, he knew what his mother could be like when people displeased her...Berwald ignored the part that both wanted to be Sindre's for real, and was terrified, because it hurt, it always hurt in the end..."I'm fine, just... just leave --" But if he never saw Sindre, he wouldn't know if he was alive or dead. Berwald closed his eyes, feeling trapped between bad options. When he opened them again, all trace of the roiling emotions earlier had disappeared, replaced by a dull, glassy calm. "Fine, do whatever you need t' do," Berwald said flatly. "No need to sneak around either, 's fine."
Sindre: Sindre flinched back at Berwald’s tone. "Ain't no need to do me no favors," he said back, ice cold. One part of him was cursing at his mouth, cursing his inability to hold his grammar together when stressed, And isn't it cute, as if talkin'flash will make him like you more, a dark voice whispered. "Y'want me gone, I'm gone."
Berwald: *Too late* Berwald thought numbly. This hurt too, because either way he lost him for good and-- it wasn't supposed to be like this *again*. "No," he whispered, reaching out unthinkingly to grasp Sindre's arm again, but his grip was light this time, more like he was just making sure Sindre was really there.
Sindre: Sindre jerked his arm out of Berwald's grasp. "Y'can't have it both way," he hissed, still cold. "So lemme know when y'make up yer mind."
With that, he took two steps away, bounded up the stairs, and leapt for the low lip of the roof. Hauling himself up, he got out of earshot, quick as he could, before he could make the mistake of going back.
When: 22 Wednesday, Twilight
Where: Out on the streets
What: An unexpected run-in with a recently estranged friend.
Berwald: Berwald had lasted an entire day by keeping busy and not thinking about the first nightmare starring Sindre (admittedly, not the first *ever*, but before he'd usually been able to verify soon after he was all right), but the second night with yet another nightmare was too much for him. Still, somehow he stayed busy and managed not to think about it... until the evening fell, with the prospect of yet another restless night in front of him. And that was how he ended up wandering the streets a bit before sunset, aimlessly searching for Sindre.
Sindre: Sindre ducked under an overhang as he loped across the roof. He could get halfway across the city without ever having to come down to the street, and he wasn't looking forward to another run-in so soon. And it was a much quicker route to Berwald's. Even though he had checked around just two days ago, until he knew what had shifted on the streets--and something had shifted, otherwise he would be in working order--he wanted to keep a close eye on the place.
A glimpse of blond hair had him almost missing his next step and tumbling from the roofs. A second look told him yes, it was Berwald. He ran the calendar through his head, hoping that he had just gotten confused on the day. It'd happened before.
But no, he was right. This wasn't part of Berwald's routine. And of all the possible reasons he could come up with for Berwald to be outside the streets when normally he wouldn't be, not a one was good.
Without a thought, Sindre jumped to the ground, forgetting for a moment that his left knee had taken a hit yesterday and for one long, ugly moment, he thought it wouldn't hold. It did, though, and it was only a second more before he was at Berwald's side, grabbing his shoulders. "Y'okay? What's wrong?" he demanded, worry turning his voice harsh.
Berwald: Berwald turned quickly. Despite it having been a long time since he'd last been in battle, let alone in person and not from behind the controls of a ship, he still wasn't used to people shouting and grabbing him suddenly. As such, the look he first turned on Sindre was rather terrifying, and it only grew darker as he took in his bruised face. "What happened t' ya? An' where have you been?" he demanded without thought.
Sindre: "I got hit," Sindre shot back impatiently. "What's wrong? What made you go out?"
Berwald: Berwald was still looking him over, and there was something about his sleeve...Without asking, he grabbed Sindre's hand and pushed up his sleeve, staring wide eyed at the white bandages with blood seeping through them. He suddenly let go and took a step back, dragging his gaze away from the red stains with some difficulty. "I... none of yer b'sness," he mumbled, suddenly viscerally reminded just why it was a bad idea to allow himself to get close to Sindre. He'd just lose him, sooner or later, and it would be unbearable...
Sindre: Wincing at being grabbed, Sindre stared at Berwald, startled, as he suddenly stepped back. "It is my business, if you're not okay," he insisted, following him. "Now what is it? What made you leave home?"
Berwald: He'd wanted to see that Sindre was ok. Because of nightmares. It sounded insane. It probably *was* insane...Berwald shook his head in irritation. "Your arm ok?" he asked instead.
Sindre: Sindre barely glanced at it. "Still works," he replied. "But you have to tell what's wrong so I can do something about it."
Berwald: "You don't need to do anything about it!" Berwald growled at him.
Sindre: "Of course I do," Sindre snapped back. "You're one’a mine and I look out for mine! And even if not, this is supposed to be my area, so I gotta make sure it stays that way!"
Berwald: "You..." his words stumbled as he just stared at Sindre, not knowing what to think. 'One of his'...what was that supposed to even mean? That it was just one of his jobs to make sure Berwald hadn't dropped dead? Granted, he knew what his mother could be like when people displeased her...Berwald ignored the part that both wanted to be Sindre's for real, and was terrified, because it hurt, it always hurt in the end..."I'm fine, just... just leave --" But if he never saw Sindre, he wouldn't know if he was alive or dead. Berwald closed his eyes, feeling trapped between bad options. When he opened them again, all trace of the roiling emotions earlier had disappeared, replaced by a dull, glassy calm. "Fine, do whatever you need t' do," Berwald said flatly. "No need to sneak around either, 's fine."
Sindre: Sindre flinched back at Berwald’s tone. "Ain't no need to do me no favors," he said back, ice cold. One part of him was cursing at his mouth, cursing his inability to hold his grammar together when stressed, And isn't it cute, as if talkin'flash will make him like you more, a dark voice whispered. "Y'want me gone, I'm gone."
Berwald: *Too late* Berwald thought numbly. This hurt too, because either way he lost him for good and-- it wasn't supposed to be like this *again*. "No," he whispered, reaching out unthinkingly to grasp Sindre's arm again, but his grip was light this time, more like he was just making sure Sindre was really there.
Sindre: Sindre jerked his arm out of Berwald's grasp. "Y'can't have it both way," he hissed, still cold. "So lemme know when y'make up yer mind."
With that, he took two steps away, bounded up the stairs, and leapt for the low lip of the roof. Hauling himself up, he got out of earshot, quick as he could, before he could make the mistake of going back.