Xaldin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
windlancer) wrote2015-06-30 11:49 pm
windlancer) wrote2015-06-30 11:49 pm
The Weight of the World (locked to abidingstoic)
He didn't know if he could handle this. Any of it. Dilan had regained his heart, and with it his memories. All of them. Xaldin. The Beast. The woman, Belle. Dying. He remembered dying. He dreamed it, being dragged down into oblivion and unraveled like so much loose thread. It was a regular enough dream that lately that was all he had been dreaming. Every night for the last three nights. The dark circles under his eyes were indication enough that he'd been losing sleep. Most of the time his days were spent in a haze of melancholy, going about looking for something, anything to do to keep himself occupied, to take his mind off the monster that was Xaldin. If one of the others didn't chase him back to his room, he would work until his shoulders were sore and his legs could barely support him.
But tonight was different. Worse.
Dilan had managed to throw the blankets off himself in the middle of the night. He groaned in his sleep, turning over from his back onto his side. The same nightmare. The Nobody that wore his face bearing down on him, no matter how fast he ran, no matter how hard he tried to escape, the lancer was gaining on him. A whimper escaped him in his sleep...blissfully he was unaware of how much like a terrified child he sounded.
He heard the whistle of a spear in his dream. Two of them landed in his back.
Dilan awakened with a jolt, a horrified scream tearing out of his throat.
But tonight was different. Worse.
Dilan had managed to throw the blankets off himself in the middle of the night. He groaned in his sleep, turning over from his back onto his side. The same nightmare. The Nobody that wore his face bearing down on him, no matter how fast he ran, no matter how hard he tried to escape, the lancer was gaining on him. A whimper escaped him in his sleep...blissfully he was unaware of how much like a terrified child he sounded.
He heard the whistle of a spear in his dream. Two of them landed in his back.
Dilan awakened with a jolt, a horrified scream tearing out of his throat.
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He eased at that, relaxing. The memories of fear and pain were becoming more concrete. Dilan still had to fight the fog brought on by sedation, but he remembered enough. He had a nightmare. Aeleus came in to check on him. Something wrong with his back.
If he was in a proper bed, that was good. That meant Even was able to stop whatever it was.
His voice was hoarse from screaming the night before. "Nauseous. Sore. Cold." He worked his jaw and managed to turn his head the other way to relieve his stiff neck.
His eyes opened a little more, and he could finally focus again. Enough to see Aeleus. ....Or was it Lexaeus? He frowned slightly. "What about you? Are you...you again?" The frown turned into a scowl when he saw the tether securing his wrist to the bedrail. No wonder he couldn't get up.
"What...?"
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That was good, though. Sore, nauseous, cold--well, maybe not good, but expected, appropriate reactions that were well within the parameters of post-operative discomfort. Relieving, to know that he wasn't actively in pain anymore, or reacting poorly to the sedatives or anesthetic. That meant they could just get him cleaned up, and make sure he was as calm as they could hope for before tapering off the sedatives. "I'm sorry. But you need to stay still for a little while longer, Dilan. I need to get you cleaned up, and you need to rest; you shouldn't strain your stitches by moving around too much just yet, and you're at risk of falling until the medicine is out of your system."
Aeleus sighed, offering Dilan an apologetic look--but still, he didn't sound like he was open to discussion or willing to change his mind about it, either. He dipped his cloth into the basin and began the clean up job, carefully holding the wing steady with his free hand to make sure it wouldn't get jostled--and that Dilan wouldn't jerk or flail it--too much.
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Except he was looking at his arm. Aeleus wasn't anywhere near it. He was somewhere towards his back. ...And it felt wrong. So very, very wrong. With the warm water and gentle pressure, the blood came off relatively easy, revealing the pearly white scales that had hardened in the last few hours. It was trembling and twitching now, trying to pull away from Aeleus's touch. Dilan was struggling against the sedatives, trying desperately to make sense of what was wrong with his body. His nausea was becoming more intense. He grumbled in protest, trying to shift away from Aeleus.
Something was wrong.
Dilan finally shifted his body away. Of course the wing stayed outstretched in Aeleus's hands...and that one attempt to move was all he could manage under sedation. He swallowed the bile at the back of his throat. He couldn't even manage to be genuinely afraid, and that was all the more concerning. What had they put in that IV?
"...what happened to me?" he managed, throat dry and cracked. "What are you doing?"