The mourning after...
((This entry details what happens when Felix wakes up from his Christmas Eve dream. Since I felt I have been spamming the comm, I decided to post it here, since this more a private event than anything))
Felix awoke with a long sigh, knowing even then that he was no longer in the dreamworld. It felt almost like a natural transition, for he had fallen asleep with his arms around Gideon. Even though it has only been a dream version, it had been so wonderfully real. He could almost still feel the warmth of his lover's skin against him, the fading smell of grass and parchment that he always seemed to carry.
As the dream faded, however, Felix became aware of his surroundings. Just as he had arrived in Paradisa, he found himself in his bed, and a book had seemed to have taken the place of his sleeping partner. At first he thought it might be the journal, as it had the first time, but as he blinked away the sleep and pulled back just enough to read the cover, he knew he was wrong.
The leather cover was old and weathered, thin a little at the edges where fingers had played against it endless times. Felix traced the words on the front - Inquiries Into The World's Heart by Nahum Westerly. It had been Gideon's favorite book, the one, he realized suddenly, that Gideon had been reading in his dream, even though he had read it so many times he could recite it by heart.
He knew Gideon was dead. Had known it in the dream, even, but other than the harrowing days spent in jail after his murder, it had always been through a dim filter. The dream, the book; they made it all real. Gideon was dead, and Felix would never be able to see him again.
It was like his heart was ripping in two. He clutched the book to himself and cried. Not simply wept, like he had done silently in the night so many times, but well and truly cried as he had never done before. Tears poured down his cheeks to wet the sheets as he wailed, voice cracking, his body shuddering with the near-violence of it.
It felt like hours later when he began to calm, and other parts of his dream cut through his grief. He had had wandered into many dreams, of visions of happy friends and families, of things he had never really experienced. Was it telling that his dream had been only of a dead lover and a half-brother? But then...like a candle burning brighter...he remembered his visitor. Ashura, who had cared enough to ask the truth, who had understood what he wasn't ready to give, who took him to his own world and given Felix more than he deserved to hear.
It hurt no less that Gideon was gone. It likely never would. But he knew now that he had mourned him, and it was time to look ahead. He could wallow here forever, with this book as his company in misery, but remembering Ashura, and knowing that neither his friend nor his lover would want that from him...he would try.
With that in mind, Felix picked himself up and went to clean himself up. It was Christmas day, after all, and he had a promise to keep.
Felix awoke with a long sigh, knowing even then that he was no longer in the dreamworld. It felt almost like a natural transition, for he had fallen asleep with his arms around Gideon. Even though it has only been a dream version, it had been so wonderfully real. He could almost still feel the warmth of his lover's skin against him, the fading smell of grass and parchment that he always seemed to carry.
As the dream faded, however, Felix became aware of his surroundings. Just as he had arrived in Paradisa, he found himself in his bed, and a book had seemed to have taken the place of his sleeping partner. At first he thought it might be the journal, as it had the first time, but as he blinked away the sleep and pulled back just enough to read the cover, he knew he was wrong.
The leather cover was old and weathered, thin a little at the edges where fingers had played against it endless times. Felix traced the words on the front - Inquiries Into The World's Heart by Nahum Westerly. It had been Gideon's favorite book, the one, he realized suddenly, that Gideon had been reading in his dream, even though he had read it so many times he could recite it by heart.
He knew Gideon was dead. Had known it in the dream, even, but other than the harrowing days spent in jail after his murder, it had always been through a dim filter. The dream, the book; they made it all real. Gideon was dead, and Felix would never be able to see him again.
It was like his heart was ripping in two. He clutched the book to himself and cried. Not simply wept, like he had done silently in the night so many times, but well and truly cried as he had never done before. Tears poured down his cheeks to wet the sheets as he wailed, voice cracking, his body shuddering with the near-violence of it.
It felt like hours later when he began to calm, and other parts of his dream cut through his grief. He had had wandered into many dreams, of visions of happy friends and families, of things he had never really experienced. Was it telling that his dream had been only of a dead lover and a half-brother? But then...like a candle burning brighter...he remembered his visitor. Ashura, who had cared enough to ask the truth, who had understood what he wasn't ready to give, who took him to his own world and given Felix more than he deserved to hear.
It hurt no less that Gideon was gone. It likely never would. But he knew now that he had mourned him, and it was time to look ahead. He could wallow here forever, with this book as his company in misery, but remembering Ashura, and knowing that neither his friend nor his lover would want that from him...he would try.
With that in mind, Felix picked himself up and went to clean himself up. It was Christmas day, after all, and he had a promise to keep.