[ Dasha often has difficulty sleeping through the night, especially lately, especially here. He's still used to stretching out under the stars, curling up in a thin bedroll, taking the night sky as his duvet. The fine Orlesian bed in his quarters is too soft. He sinks into it, feels like it's just about swallowing him whole. He suffocates.
When he tries to steady himself by reviewing the events of the day, his chest tightens as though trapped in a vice. His scars ache. He thinks of the people counting on him, on this organization. He thinks of the price of failure, now and in the future. He must rise to the challenge--and he has, he has risen to every single one so far--but the way forward is more occluded than ever.
So he wanders, too. The dawn lotus is on his mind. Dasha's fondness for floriography is well-known at this point, but not many people reciprocate his gestures. He's twirling the stem in his fingers as he comes up beside Cole. ]
Lovely middle-of-the-night, isn't it?
[ He speaks softly, as ever. Cole's tension is plain, and not surprising, either. The transition from spirit to something more substantial has been troubling for him. Dasha's tried to help, tried to offer distractions and assurances. Like Cole, he wishes he could do more.
Dasha sits down, lets his thin legs dangle over the edge of the battlements. Swings them a little, like a child. ]
no subject
When he tries to steady himself by reviewing the events of the day, his chest tightens as though trapped in a vice. His scars ache. He thinks of the people counting on him, on this organization. He thinks of the price of failure, now and in the future. He must rise to the challenge--and he has, he has risen to every single one so far--but the way forward is more occluded than ever.
So he wanders, too. The dawn lotus is on his mind. Dasha's fondness for floriography is well-known at this point, but not many people reciprocate his gestures. He's twirling the stem in his fingers as he comes up beside Cole. ]
Lovely middle-of-the-night, isn't it?
[ He speaks softly, as ever. Cole's tension is plain, and not surprising, either. The transition from spirit to something more substantial has been troubling for him. Dasha's tried to help, tried to offer distractions and assurances. Like Cole, he wishes he could do more.
Dasha sits down, lets his thin legs dangle over the edge of the battlements. Swings them a little, like a child. ]
Let me know if you'd like to talk about it.