Verdant Moon

[perfectteatime]

When they told him Dimitri was finally awake after so long, Byleth had simply dropped everything. Despite the insistence that they let some of the servants help clean him up, he had advised against it. No, he'd rather see the man first. It's better that he sees a familiar face, at any rate. His hands clutching the tray of food as he briskly walks toward where Dimitri was staying. A fairly nice room, though evident it was now doubling as the man's medical bay. His wounds were mostly healed at this point, but one can never be too careful.

"Dimitri." His soft, low voice filtering through the door, he gives a soft knock-knock to announce himself before pushing it open with his shoulder.

It's hard to say if he's still asleep or simply trying to ignore Byleth as he crosses the room, setting the tray on the bedside table and taking a seat at the edge of the bed himself.

"Dimitri? It's me. Byleth." Hesitantly, he rests a hand on the man's form under the blankets. "I have food for you."

Comments

[ghastlighting]

Regrettably, he knows that Byleth is right. If he tries to storm out now, it would end pathetically, with him crawling. He has been in such a position before, and he will not do it again, not when he can recover much more easily.

"So be it. Know that I stay only for the dues owed to the dead. If this path takes me to her, then I will use it."

The tray is taken. No matter how good it might smell, it holds no flavor as ever. He takes no enjoyment as he shoves it into his mouth, chewing, the textures grinding away into ash.

[perfectteatime]

At least it's something. He can be appealed to... somewhat. Byleth wrings his hands slightly in his lap, just a tiny motion, one of those little self-soothing gestures.

"I will be staying in the conjoining room. Just on the other side of that wall." He nods towards the other door in the room that could have been taken for a closet. "Should you have need of me, there's a bell."

Indeed, a small string is rigged on a small pulley system that goes up into the ceiling.

"Pull that and I will know you need something."

[ghastlighting]

It's perfectly like the Professor to arrange something for someone else like this. To look after others, even when they aren't his own. Isn't that what happened during their days at the academy? How often Dimitri volunteered his services on the idea that it was to be an active student -- but that was not the truth then either.

The truth will help no one here.

So, in affirmation, he merely grunts at Byleth, no better than the animal he has become. If nothing else, he might as well eat.

[perfectteatime]

He admittedly had cleared most of his schedule to be available to Dimitri, knowing full well the man would be resistant. He expected to be afforded a lot of uncomfortable silence, and that was fine. He retires to the chamber next door, but finds that sleep eludes him.

Many hours late into the night, he lays awake, listening for that bell that he doubts Dimitri will use. He was resistant to asking for anything when he was in the best of moods, why should now be any different?

And yet, here he is, sliding out of bed and cracking open the door to the next chamber, peeking in to see if he's resting or not.

[ghastlighting]

There is no sleep for Dimitri either. Even after he eats, he lays on his back, staring at the ceiling. As the night goes on, he can hear the whisperings of the dead, scolding and weeping at him. He makes him cringe, his arm draping over his face.

"I know," he mutters mournfully. "I know. I was weak. She was just a hair away-- but I won't fail you. I need more time."

The wailings ring in his ears and mind. He could practically feel them clawing and cold against him, making their demands, crying for retribution. So no, sleep does not come to him, not even in the morning when he has his hand over his face, mumbling.

"I'm sorry. Father, please."

[perfectteatime]

Oh Dimitri.

He opens the door wider, holding it there.

"Dimitri." He says softly at first, then a bit louder, trying to stir him from his visions. "Dimitri."

Crossing the room at last, unafraid of whatever lashing out the man may do, he pulls over one of the small rocking chairs from the corner, dragging it up to beside the bed.

"Hey. It's just me." He reaches for the candle on the bedside table, pinching the wick between his fingers to ignite it with a small fire spell. "There we are, that's better."

He still dares to reach down and rest his hand on the large shape of Dimitri under the blankets, a silent anchor.