Mercifully, Aeleus did not often dream unless it was his choice.
He had trained himself out of it years ago, to deny his subconscious purchase when he knew nothing good would come of it. He knew how to work tirelessly, aggressively pushing his limits until his exhaustion would hold everything except the Darkness of slumber (a tiny Oblivion, wasn't that right?) at bay. He knew how to read, and write, and work on his puzzles until other things consumed his mind before he slept, or anchor his thoughts with others, rather than himself, throwing himself into meeting their every need. He knew just what it was to train until he could go no further, but would still be fit for missions the next morning, so long as he got in his proper rest. It was a spell he only very, very seldom used..... but he did know how to cast Sleep, if he truly needed it.
That wasn't to say he never dreamed, or never suffered nightmares, no..... of course not! But they were different than the ones that so haunted Dilan, tormenting him whenever he tried to rest. Gentler, maybe, less violent, more easily handled. His dreams tasted more of Darkness and despair and Oblivion than hatred and rage and violence, or the overpowering malice of being hunted by who and what you had once been. Even as a Nobody, Lexaeus had ever been the most sentimental of their group, the most grounded and concerned with morals and humanity, the one who had clung to himself--to Aeleus, the man he'd once been--and what he once might have thought and felt and done in some damned and futile effort of obeying those old principles. It hadn't always (or even very often) worked very well, but in the end, it had made for far less separation than there could have been between the three lives he's led so far.
Aeleus knew exactly who and what he was. Aeleus knew that he must handle everything, everything he had done, as Aeleus and Lexaeus and Aeleus again--because nobody else could do so for him. Because there was no separating himself from any of his lifetimes. Because there was no forgiveness for him, from him or anyone else, nearly that easily. Because if he couldn't handle himself, then he couldn't handle any of the others--and they needed his help to pick up their own broken pieces, before the weight of previous lifetimes crushed and shattered them until there was simply nothing to put back together again. Aeleus confronted his nightmares because he lived them daily, staring their accusations in the eye and offering the world his penance with every beat of his newly reborn heart, and every step he took to restore his castle and kingdom.
Sleep held no power over him, not when what would find refuge in the subconscious was forced into the conscious mind, flushed out into the open to be assaulted with the harsh, unforgiving Light. Aeleus may have been a kind and gentle man, forgiving and nonjudgmental, but never was he crueler and more uncompromising than when it came to himself.
He could have sworn that he wasn't gone that long, really--only a few minutes, to fetch Dilan a glass of water before he went to sleep. That the man could fall asleep so quickly and easily these days would have shocked him, if he had the time or presence of mind to think about it; that he would be assaulted by nightmares the moment he slipped into the Realm of Dreams, on the other hand, wouldn't have surprised him at all. Aeleus nearly jumped at the sound of a scream from Dilan's room, almost dropping the glass in alarm; he didn't quite run, but it was still a hasty retreat back to his friend's aid, hardly even noticing his half-soaked glove from the initial spill. What had happened? Was he hurt? Had someone come in without them knowing? Braig even, perhaps? Surely if they were under attack, the others would be waking up, they would never just attack one of them alone and wait for the group to rally--
It was an effort to catch his thoughts before they careened too far off into alarm and paranoia; odds were, it really was just a nightmare. He couldn't recall the last time Dilan had screamed outright from one, but it was probably the more likely--and far, far preferable--scenario. He'd defend him if necessary, but..... but no need to cross that bridge until they came to it. No need to draw any more attention and possibly embarrass Dilan unless it was a genuine emergency. Even so, Aeleus dispensed with his usual insistence on knocking to offer some warning, didn't even hesitate to open the door and stride in to come to his friend's side. "Dilan? What's the matter?"
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2015-07-04 12:12 pm (UTC)He had trained himself out of it years ago, to deny his subconscious purchase when he knew nothing good would come of it. He knew how to work tirelessly, aggressively pushing his limits until his exhaustion would hold everything except the Darkness of slumber (a tiny Oblivion, wasn't that right?) at bay. He knew how to read, and write, and work on his puzzles until other things consumed his mind before he slept, or anchor his thoughts with others, rather than himself, throwing himself into meeting their every need. He knew just what it was to train until he could go no further, but would still be fit for missions the next morning, so long as he got in his proper rest. It was a spell he only very, very seldom used..... but he did know how to cast Sleep, if he truly needed it.
That wasn't to say he never dreamed, or never suffered nightmares, no..... of course not! But they were different than the ones that so haunted Dilan, tormenting him whenever he tried to rest. Gentler, maybe, less violent, more easily handled. His dreams tasted more of Darkness and despair and Oblivion than hatred and rage and violence, or the overpowering malice of being hunted by who and what you had once been. Even as a Nobody, Lexaeus had ever been the most sentimental of their group, the most grounded and concerned with morals and humanity, the one who had clung to himself--to Aeleus, the man he'd once been--and what he once might have thought and felt and done in some damned and futile effort of obeying those old principles. It hadn't always (or even very often) worked very well, but in the end, it had made for far less separation than there could have been between the three lives he's led so far.
Aeleus knew exactly who and what he was. Aeleus knew that he must handle everything, everything he had done, as Aeleus and Lexaeus and Aeleus again--because nobody else could do so for him. Because there was no separating himself from any of his lifetimes. Because there was no forgiveness for him, from him or anyone else, nearly that easily. Because if he couldn't handle himself, then he couldn't handle any of the others--and they needed his help to pick up their own broken pieces, before the weight of previous lifetimes crushed and shattered them until there was simply nothing to put back together again. Aeleus confronted his nightmares because he lived them daily, staring their accusations in the eye and offering the world his penance with every beat of his newly reborn heart, and every step he took to restore his castle and kingdom.
Sleep held no power over him, not when what would find refuge in the subconscious was forced into the conscious mind, flushed out into the open to be assaulted with the harsh, unforgiving Light. Aeleus may have been a kind and gentle man, forgiving and nonjudgmental, but never was he crueler and more uncompromising than when it came to himself.
He could have sworn that he wasn't gone that long, really--only a few minutes, to fetch Dilan a glass of water before he went to sleep. That the man could fall asleep so quickly and easily these days would have shocked him, if he had the time or presence of mind to think about it; that he would be assaulted by nightmares the moment he slipped into the Realm of Dreams, on the other hand, wouldn't have surprised him at all. Aeleus nearly jumped at the sound of a scream from Dilan's room, almost dropping the glass in alarm; he didn't quite run, but it was still a hasty retreat back to his friend's aid, hardly even noticing his half-soaked glove from the initial spill. What had happened? Was he hurt? Had someone come in without them knowing? Braig even, perhaps? Surely if they were under attack, the others would be waking up, they would never just attack one of them alone and wait for the group to rally--
It was an effort to catch his thoughts before they careened too far off into alarm and paranoia; odds were, it really was just a nightmare. He couldn't recall the last time Dilan had screamed outright from one, but it was probably the more likely--and far, far preferable--scenario. He'd defend him if necessary, but..... but no need to cross that bridge until they came to it. No need to draw any more attention and possibly embarrass Dilan unless it was a genuine emergency. Even so, Aeleus dispensed with his usual insistence on knocking to offer some warning, didn't even hesitate to open the door and stride in to come to his friend's side. "Dilan? What's the matter?"