[ what he knows if that he'd woken up from a unusually vivid dream that he remembers with a crystal clear clarity and his chest had started hurting immediately. a burning sensation that was still there, making it uncomfortable to even stand there, bent over the sink.
he takes a few breaths, staring down at the water that slides down the sides of the sink and into the drain. perhaps this is anxiety over the dream? he's never experienced an anxiety attack so he can't be sure but... ]
My chest is hurting. [ so, definitely the takeout from last night coming back for its revenge. no, this is something different altogether. ] I just —
[ need a moment or two to give it a chance to go away. that's what he wants, for it to ease on his own so he can focus on what's caused it rather than the fact that it is happening. ] I just need a minute.
a man who carries all that tension and stress inside without releasing it wouldn't be a surprising candidate for sudden onset heart problems, and though daisy's never lost anyone she particularly cared for to an attack, she has seen old men die from it. granted, they were dicks, but still. losing your new foster dad because he had a heart attack while watching his favorite sports team lose in some annual contest wasn't a fun thing for any little kid to see.
she doesn't ask, though, because peeking through the crack between door and frame lets her look into the mirror, and that tell-tale glow tells her all she needs to know. ]
I'm gonna grab you a water, okay?
[ he can have a minute. if he's listening, he'll hear her walk away; he'll know she's reached the kitchen by the jerk and creak of the fridge opening, the clatter of dishware and glass as she pulls a cup from the cabinet, and the soft pop of a jug as she pours chilled water into the glass.
a two-knuckle knock on the door signals her return. she could open the door, but she lets him do that. lets him maintain some desperately needed control over this new mystery situation of new amsterdam, the city that refuses to cede any control over its curiosities. ]
[ his answer doesn't come right away. there's a long moment of silence while he lets the cold water run over his hands before he switches it off and reaches for the door so he can open it and let her in.
he doesn't move to step out though. no, he settles a little unsteadily on the lip of the bathtub, still rubbing at his chest with one hand. the burn is still there and besides the worry that he's trying to suppress, it's starting to annoy him because he wants to know what's causing it. what he's done to bring this on and what he can do to make it stop.
when she finally steps inside, he takes the water from her and drinks it down in a few quick gulps, hoping that might put the fire out inside his chest. he holds the cup in his hands when he's finished, shifting it from one to the other in an effort to not rub at his chest again, leaving his now reddened skin alone. ]
[ it's the middle of the night, and he's sitting on the edge of the bathtub looking like the world is crumbling under his feet. the combination of the angry splotches from rubbing at the irritation and the blue glow from within leaves the skin on his bare chest mottled purple, looking more like faded bruising than mild not-carpet burn.
daisy sighs, a quiet exhale that she manages only by miracle to keep from shuddering, and reaches down to take the cup from his hands in order to set it aside on the countertop. it leaves his open for one of hers to slip in between, letting his fingers clutch around her hand while the other smooths over his bare arm.
the glow only brightens, her chest brightening in tandem with his; in the wake of the touch comes a flood of illya's emotions. anxiety, fear, pain; worry, too, uncertainty. daisy's are steadier — concern, yes, but reassurance lays stronger, a bolster as she settles next to him on the edge of the tub. ]
It is...a burning sensation. [ it's almost involuntary, the way his free hand reaches up to scrub at his skin again, trying to rub away the ache and the burn and the discomfort that continues to pulsate under his skin. ]
I woke up and felt like this. [ as of yet, he hasn't connected the dream to this physical pain. he hasn't because that's not something that should or would happen. dreams don't cause you pain. dreams linger in your head if they are particularly strong (like this one) but if you fall in a dream, you are not going to wake up with skinned knees or a concussion.
he grimaces, shoulders hunching up as he lets another stronger wave roll through him before it settles again. ]
It will go away. [ if he kept telling himself that, it would come true. ] I'm fine otherwise. I had a dream before I woke up and then this but I'm fine.
I get that too. [ the burn, she means. she doesn't move to swat his hand away, but the way her hand begins to slide up and down his arm intends to soothe the worried motions all the same. ] Not from dreams, but when I try to do things I could do back home.
[ they haven't talked about this yet. the rumblings that used to run through her body, the power that used to flow through her, as much a part of herself as the color of her hair or the name she answered to. quakes. thinking about them elicits a pang in her chest, the mildest of burns; she isn't trying to access them, but thinking about them almost always means some kind of involuntary attempt, as if hoping against hope things will change.
they don't, though, and daisy winces a bit until the sensation subsides. ]
The way you can break through things. I could... affect things. Shake them, control their vibrations. Make them explode. [ a soft sound, more resigned than sad, pauses her train of thought. ] I can't do them here. Whatever's given me these new abilities takes those away, I guess. But when I try, my chest... it burns. Like the worst case of heartburn. And the more I try, the worse it feels and the longer it lasts.
[ so, considering his blue glow, and considering the symptoms, she's willing to wager that maybe that dream's more important than he thinks it is. ]
[ it takes him a second to realize what she's telling him. that, even before this place, she had the ability to do extraordinary things. that she was able to do things that people from his time only saw in movies. and he can hear the longing in her voice, the tone that says she misses what she could do.
she's had something taken away from her and though she was given something different, he can tell it's not the same. he blows out a breath and turns his head so he can press a kiss against the crown of her hair. ]
It was...strange. I don't usually remember my dreams but this one is crystal clear. I remember feeling like I knew where I was but I can't tell you where. I had an IV in my arm...
[ he trails off and rubs a finger over the veins in his wrist before shaking his head. ]
There was a word on a wall that I could see. Project and then a symbol. There was yellow on the symbol. I don't know what the symbol was. There was a lot of fog and other people were around me. I didn't recognize anyone else. It was just me. I had short hair. Very short hair like you had seen when I first arrived.
[ so was this something from when he'd been taken? he doesn't know. he can't figure it out. ]
That's when I woke up and left the bed. My chest has been on fire ever since.
I've had dreams like that. [ they weren't dreams, though. they were oracle visions, projected to her by raina and gordon, intended to trick her into following false paths. she's hesitant to tell him that, though, because these sound more like memories than fortune telling. ] Dreams that feel so real you can't tell you're even dreaming.
[ her head tips to rest against his shoulder after his mouth brushes against it, her hand still coaxing gentle pathways up and down his arm. ]
What did the symbol look like? [ they don't have paper, but he could trace the shape against her skin or into something else. his unused can of shaving cream, maybe, in a pinch. ] Can you remember that?
I do not know if it's something that happened in between the time I was taken and when I woke up here and was let out of that van. I can't....remember that.
[ it hadn't been that long ago really but he'd been groggy and disoriented when he'd woken up. overwhelmed by the city and everything in it. but the familiarity of that dream is sticking with him. whether or not that's a memory or something more, he's been to whatever place that was.
he knows it. he just...has to remember where it was. ]
It was like an animal. Unfamiliar but yes, I can remember. [ he mimes a pen before he remembers that there's nothing like that here. god, this city is infuriating sometimes. ]
[ as much as she doesn't want to get up, as nice as their strange positions feel, she can't do it from here — and so daisy extricates herself with one last squeeze of their hands together before she pulls away, stepping up off the edge of the tub to cross the small bathroom. there's not much in the cabinetry, considering neither of them are particularly fussy people, but there is at least a can of shaving cream.
since he's not regularly shaving his face clean, he hasn't used it. he'll have to forgive her for wasting it, but it's at least for a good cause. or she hopes it is, anyway.
in any case, she smears a thin layer of it over the flat expanse of his countertop, with enough space for him to trace out whatever he might need to in the thick white mess. she'll clean it later. probably. ]
Here. Draw it on here, and I'll take a picture when you're done. Maybe we can look it up.
[ reverse google image search, baby. or trace it using digital drawing software, and maybe someone else might recognize it. they'd have options. ]
[ he stands after she does, watching her root through his cabinets until she pulls out some shaving cream. and because he knows she is not going to ask him to shave, he has an idea what she might need it for.
soon enough his counter is liberally covered in shaving cream and he moves closer. illya closes his eyes and the symbol comes to him and he starts drawing, carefully tracing his finger through the shaving cream to make sure every line is precise and every curve is correct.
it doesn't take long because the symbol wasn't large and soon enough he's stepping back, hand covered in shaving cream. ]
There was some yellow on the breast here. [ he points. ] If there was more, I could not see it. Do you recognize it?
[ it might be an animal of some kind. perhaps a large bird, maybe a woodland creature of some kind — but she's never been an animal expert, so she's probably the wrong person to ask. ]
No. I wish I did.
[ a small tug at the corner of her mouth, apologetic, and daisy snaps a shot of the drawing as it lays out. later, she'll ask rey about the drawing software she uses, or check with markus for any ideas he may have. but for now, daisy sweeps a palm through the drawing, scraping the cream off the countertop and into the sink where it's easily washed away. cleaning up, apparently, is not beneath her. ]
But we'll figure it out. [ together, yes, but the group as a whole. the entirety of the displaced. ] Do you feel any better?
[ the glow in his chest seems to have subsided, at least. ]
[ the burn is still there but it's eased enough that he thinks he can ignore it, forget about it until it goes completely away.
a hand comes back up and rubs at his chest again as if trying to hurry the process along. he sighs, irritated with the whole thing, before moving closer and kissing her forehead in gratitude. ]
You can go back to sleep. I think I will stay up for awhile. [ while the pain was easing, the dream had unsettled him enough that he doubts he's going to be able to close his eyes and rest again. ]
Come on. [ he should know her better than that. she's not just going to let him sit here in the bathroom alone to dwell on his thoughts. ] I'm not going anywhere.
[ maybe literally she would go somewhere, like out of this bathroom, but only if he came with her. plus, she doesn't exactly want to go back to sleep alone. hard enough to fall asleep as it is, but knowing he's just moping alone with his thoughts isn't very comforting. ]
[ he exhales because yes, he'd known that. he'd known she wouldn't want to go back to sleep if he was awake and dealing with this but he had to give her the choice anyway. it felt wrong to just assume.
he doesn't say anything for the few moments it takes him to wash his hands free of the shaving cream but once he dries them off, he nods. ]
All right. I was just going to sit in the other room or take a walk. I hadn't decided. I just do not think I can get back to sleep right now. Everything is too —
[ he gestures vaguely to his head and sighs. ] I would rather not dream again or think about what I saw.
[ a slow inhale, and daisy nods in return; her hand lifts to take one of his, and once her fingers have threaded snugly between his own, she tugs him out of the bathroom and into the living room down the hall.
she stops in front of the couch, head tipping towards it. ] Sit. [ once he does, she joins him, not quite in his lap but close to it. if he wants to, he could pull her in.
there's a beat of comfortable silence before she pipes up again. ] Next time you have bad dreams, wake me up.
[ she says sit and he does. when she eventually settles next to him, he reaches for her and pulls her closer, against him, on him, he doesn't care. he'd just like her to be closer for the moment. it gives him something to focus on that isn't the dream.
for a few moments, there's just silence but then she speaks and he hums. ] I do not typically have dreams, good or bad.
[ and if he did, he rarely remembered them in the morning. ]
Sleep is more important than dealing with me. [ that is his story and he's sticking to it. ] I wanted you to rest.
[ there's a response that immediately jumps to his mind but he cuts it off fast. that's too much and he knows it. he's not going to say it and shift this evening into something more than it is. he can't.
they'd had a day like that a little while ago and he's been trying to forget what he'd said ever since then. it hasn't been working but he's trying. he hasn't said it again, at least. ]
That applies to me as well, you know. You can ask me for help.
[ time to shift this subject onto her, please and thank you. ]
I know. [ and she does. he doesn't have to tell her that. ] I know.
[ he may not want to sleep, but daisy can't deny the fact that it's comfortable and cozy being piled up in his lap, her legs curled up against her and her head resting on his chest. it's somewhere familiar and warm, and though she doesn't outright pass out on him (a miracle), her eyes do occasionally slip closed. ]
It goes both ways. But I hope you don't have any more bad dreams.
[ it's not difficult to tell she's trying her best to stay awake but she doesn't need to. he's not going to be very talkative and he'd prefer she get her sleep despite his own nighttime difficulties.
honestly, even having her asleep on his lap will probably help settle him so he starts stroking his fingers up and down her back to try and encourage to go back to sleep. he's fine. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ what he knows if that he'd woken up from a unusually vivid dream that he remembers with a crystal clear clarity and his chest had started hurting immediately. a burning sensation that was still there, making it uncomfortable to even stand there, bent over the sink.
he takes a few breaths, staring down at the water that slides down the sides of the sink and into the drain. perhaps this is anxiety over the dream? he's never experienced an anxiety attack so he can't be sure but... ]
My chest is hurting. [ so, definitely the takeout from last night coming back for its revenge. no, this is something different altogether. ] I just —
[ need a moment or two to give it a chance to go away. that's what he wants, for it to ease on his own so he can focus on what's caused it rather than the fact that it is happening. ] I just need a minute.
no subject
a man who carries all that tension and stress inside without releasing it wouldn't be a surprising candidate for sudden onset heart problems, and though daisy's never lost anyone she particularly cared for to an attack, she has seen old men die from it. granted, they were dicks, but still. losing your new foster dad because he had a heart attack while watching his favorite sports team lose in some annual contest wasn't a fun thing for any little kid to see.
she doesn't ask, though, because peeking through the crack between door and frame lets her look into the mirror, and that tell-tale glow tells her all she needs to know. ]
I'm gonna grab you a water, okay?
[ he can have a minute. if he's listening, he'll hear her walk away; he'll know she's reached the kitchen by the jerk and creak of the fridge opening, the clatter of dishware and glass as she pulls a cup from the cabinet, and the soft pop of a jug as she pours chilled water into the glass.
a two-knuckle knock on the door signals her return. she could open the door, but she lets him do that. lets him maintain some desperately needed control over this new mystery situation of new amsterdam, the city that refuses to cede any control over its curiosities. ]
Whenever you want it, it's right here.
no subject
he doesn't move to step out though. no, he settles a little unsteadily on the lip of the bathtub, still rubbing at his chest with one hand. the burn is still there and besides the worry that he's trying to suppress, it's starting to annoy him because he wants to know what's causing it. what he's done to bring this on and what he can do to make it stop.
when she finally steps inside, he takes the water from her and drinks it down in a few quick gulps, hoping that might put the fire out inside his chest. he holds the cup in his hands when he's finished, shifting it from one to the other in an effort to not rub at his chest again, leaving his now reddened skin alone. ]
no subject
daisy sighs, a quiet exhale that she manages only by miracle to keep from shuddering, and reaches down to take the cup from his hands in order to set it aside on the countertop. it leaves his open for one of hers to slip in between, letting his fingers clutch around her hand while the other smooths over his bare arm.
the glow only brightens, her chest brightening in tandem with his; in the wake of the touch comes a flood of illya's emotions. anxiety, fear, pain; worry, too, uncertainty. daisy's are steadier — concern, yes, but reassurance lays stronger, a bolster as she settles next to him on the edge of the tub. ]
You wanna talk about it?
[ probably not, but he should. ]
no subject
I woke up and felt like this. [ as of yet, he hasn't connected the dream to this physical pain. he hasn't because that's not something that should or would happen. dreams don't cause you pain. dreams linger in your head if they are particularly strong (like this one) but if you fall in a dream, you are not going to wake up with skinned knees or a concussion.
he grimaces, shoulders hunching up as he lets another stronger wave roll through him before it settles again. ]
It will go away. [ if he kept telling himself that, it would come true. ] I'm fine otherwise. I had a dream before I woke up and then this but I'm fine.
no subject
[ they haven't talked about this yet. the rumblings that used to run through her body, the power that used to flow through her, as much a part of herself as the color of her hair or the name she answered to. quakes. thinking about them elicits a pang in her chest, the mildest of burns; she isn't trying to access them, but thinking about them almost always means some kind of involuntary attempt, as if hoping against hope things will change.
they don't, though, and daisy winces a bit until the sensation subsides. ]
The way you can break through things. I could... affect things. Shake them, control their vibrations. Make them explode. [ a soft sound, more resigned than sad, pauses her train of thought. ] I can't do them here. Whatever's given me these new abilities takes those away, I guess. But when I try, my chest... it burns. Like the worst case of heartburn. And the more I try, the worse it feels and the longer it lasts.
[ so, considering his blue glow, and considering the symptoms, she's willing to wager that maybe that dream's more important than he thinks it is. ]
What did you dream about?
no subject
she's had something taken away from her and though she was given something different, he can tell it's not the same. he blows out a breath and turns his head so he can press a kiss against the crown of her hair. ]
It was...strange. I don't usually remember my dreams but this one is crystal clear. I remember feeling like I knew where I was but I can't tell you where. I had an IV in my arm...
[ he trails off and rubs a finger over the veins in his wrist before shaking his head. ]
There was a word on a wall that I could see. Project and then a symbol. There was yellow on the symbol. I don't know what the symbol was. There was a lot of fog and other people were around me. I didn't recognize anyone else. It was just me. I had short hair. Very short hair like you had seen when I first arrived.
[ so was this something from when he'd been taken? he doesn't know. he can't figure it out. ]
That's when I woke up and left the bed. My chest has been on fire ever since.
no subject
[ her head tips to rest against his shoulder after his mouth brushes against it, her hand still coaxing gentle pathways up and down his arm. ]
What did the symbol look like? [ they don't have paper, but he could trace the shape against her skin or into something else. his unused can of shaving cream, maybe, in a pinch. ] Can you remember that?
no subject
[ it hadn't been that long ago really but he'd been groggy and disoriented when he'd woken up. overwhelmed by the city and everything in it. but the familiarity of that dream is sticking with him. whether or not that's a memory or something more, he's been to whatever place that was.
he knows it. he just...has to remember where it was. ]
It was like an animal. Unfamiliar but yes, I can remember. [ he mimes a pen before he remembers that there's nothing like that here. god, this city is infuriating sometimes. ]
The fact that there is no paper here is annoying.
no subject
[ as much as she doesn't want to get up, as nice as their strange positions feel, she can't do it from here — and so daisy extricates herself with one last squeeze of their hands together before she pulls away, stepping up off the edge of the tub to cross the small bathroom. there's not much in the cabinetry, considering neither of them are particularly fussy people, but there is at least a can of shaving cream.
since he's not regularly shaving his face clean, he hasn't used it. he'll have to forgive her for wasting it, but it's at least for a good cause. or she hopes it is, anyway.
in any case, she smears a thin layer of it over the flat expanse of his countertop, with enough space for him to trace out whatever he might need to in the thick white mess. she'll clean it later. probably. ]
Here. Draw it on here, and I'll take a picture when you're done. Maybe we can look it up.
[ reverse google image search, baby. or trace it using digital drawing software, and maybe someone else might recognize it. they'd have options. ]
no subject
soon enough his counter is liberally covered in shaving cream and he moves closer. illya closes his eyes and the symbol comes to him and he starts drawing, carefully tracing his finger through the shaving cream to make sure every line is precise and every curve is correct.
it doesn't take long because the symbol wasn't large and soon enough he's stepping back, hand covered in shaving cream. ]
There was some yellow on the breast here. [ he points. ] If there was more, I could not see it. Do you recognize it?
no subject
No. I wish I did.
[ a small tug at the corner of her mouth, apologetic, and daisy snaps a shot of the drawing as it lays out. later, she'll ask rey about the drawing software she uses, or check with markus for any ideas he may have. but for now, daisy sweeps a palm through the drawing, scraping the cream off the countertop and into the sink where it's easily washed away. cleaning up, apparently, is not beneath her. ]
But we'll figure it out. [ together, yes, but the group as a whole. the entirety of the displaced. ] Do you feel any better?
[ the glow in his chest seems to have subsided, at least. ]
no subject
[ the burn is still there but it's eased enough that he thinks he can ignore it, forget about it until it goes completely away.
a hand comes back up and rubs at his chest again as if trying to hurry the process along. he sighs, irritated with the whole thing, before moving closer and kissing her forehead in gratitude. ]
You can go back to sleep. I think I will stay up for awhile. [ while the pain was easing, the dream had unsettled him enough that he doubts he's going to be able to close his eyes and rest again. ]
no subject
[ maybe literally she would go somewhere, like out of this bathroom, but only if he came with her. plus, she doesn't exactly want to go back to sleep alone. hard enough to fall asleep as it is, but knowing he's just moping alone with his thoughts isn't very comforting. ]
If you want to stay up, I'll stay up with you.
no subject
he doesn't say anything for the few moments it takes him to wash his hands free of the shaving cream but once he dries them off, he nods. ]
All right. I was just going to sit in the other room or take a walk. I hadn't decided. I just do not think I can get back to sleep right now. Everything is too —
[ he gestures vaguely to his head and sighs. ] I would rather not dream again or think about what I saw.
no subject
she stops in front of the couch, head tipping towards it. ] Sit. [ once he does, she joins him, not quite in his lap but close to it. if he wants to, he could pull her in.
there's a beat of comfortable silence before she pipes up again. ] Next time you have bad dreams, wake me up.
[ if i'm here, she almost says. ]
no subject
for a few moments, there's just silence but then she speaks and he hums. ] I do not typically have dreams, good or bad.
[ and if he did, he rarely remembered them in the morning. ]
Sleep is more important than dealing with me. [ that is his story and he's sticking to it. ] I wanted you to rest.
no subject
[ he's more important, but also, naps are a thing. she's a big fan of post-work naps when their schedules permit. ]
You're not a chore, Illya. If you need me, I want to be there.
no subject
they'd had a day like that a little while ago and he's been trying to forget what he'd said ever since then. it hasn't been working but he's trying. he hasn't said it again, at least. ]
That applies to me as well, you know. You can ask me for help.
[ time to shift this subject onto her, please and thank you. ]
And I will be there.
no subject
[ he may not want to sleep, but daisy can't deny the fact that it's comfortable and cozy being piled up in his lap, her legs curled up against her and her head resting on his chest. it's somewhere familiar and warm, and though she doesn't outright pass out on him (a miracle), her eyes do occasionally slip closed. ]
It goes both ways. But I hope you don't have any more bad dreams.
no subject
[ it's not difficult to tell she's trying her best to stay awake but she doesn't need to. he's not going to be very talkative and he'd prefer she get her sleep despite his own nighttime difficulties.
honestly, even having her asleep on his lap will probably help settle him so he starts stroking his fingers up and down her back to try and encourage to go back to sleep. he's fine. ]
We can talk more in the morning. Go to sleep.