Chapter Text
…
…
“The jaws that bite, the claws that catch…”
…
…
“…with eyes of flame…”
…
“And burbled as it came…”
.
.
.
“One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.”
.
Frost jolts awake, fur standing on end. He can’t catch his breath. His chest tightens and he feels like he needs to sob or throw up. Where was he again? He tries focusing on the dark room around him.
He can see Gricko. And Hootsie. They’re across the room, sleeping on their own bed. He sees his clothes, neatly piled on the mat beside him. He sees the moonlight coming in through the window behind him, and when he turns to face it he sees the giant pumpkin patch sprawling beyond it. He can see his own trembling paws clutching the pillow beneath him, he uses his eyes to trace the black stripes across the backs of his paws. He breathes carefully, relaxing his muscles, and turns over to lay on his back. When he looks down, he sees the long scars that run across his torso. He adjusts his sheets to cover up.
“the claws that catch…”
Frost moves his paws against the sheets, what can he feel? He can feel the silken bedding beneath him. He feels the chill of the night air on his face, seeping in through the window frame. If he really focuses, he can feel the floorboards vibrate with the fury of Gideon’s snores. He can feel how damp the fur on his cheeks are… Frost wipes off his face.
The tabaxi’s ears perk up, he hears…well, Gideon snoring—but aside from that, he can hear Hootsie’s sweet chirps and hoots in her sleep. He moves his paw pads across his sheets, focusing on the soft rustling sound of the fabric. He can hear the soft, soothing noises of the swamp insects outside, along with the occasional sound of Torbek snoring cutting through.
Frost takes a deep, calming breath in through his nose, he can smell the comforting must of the old house. He can also still smell the grass on his companions from playing outside before bed.
He can taste…blood?
The tiger sighs through his nose and uses his tongue to softly prod around the inside of his mouth to discover what’s bleeding. He finds a sore spot on his lower lip—he must’ve bit it during the nightmare. Right, the nightmare. A chill goes through Frost at the memory of the Jabberwock making itself known once again.
Months have passed since then, months in Avantris time, not in Feywild time. The group, with some help from Frost’s mind powers, was able to repress the traumatic Jabberwock fight.
Instead of discussing the event, Gideon’s suggestion was to forget about the whole thing and focus on the mission at hand. Everyone agreed, not wanting to delve into it at the moment and risk the possibility of running out of time for the quest.
It’s been a few months since they’ve paid off their debt to Garou, and the Krew have been traveling across Avantris ever since. Just recently they made it back to Roslov’s house, which they had been gifted prior to his death, and decided to stop by and stay a week or so.
“I thought this was over…” Frost mutters to himself, he had repressed those memories after the initial fake Jabberwock fight, and then after the real Jabberwock fight had resurfaced those buried memories, he repressed it all again for everybody. He messed around with everybody’s heads so thoroughly, keeping important stuff and repressing the Jabberwock…and all the horrific death. So why is it coming back again?? “It must have something to do with Roslov’s residence…perhaps?”
“What’s-a whosa-?” Gricko mutters sleepily from across the room. Frost looks over, catching him rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. Hootsie stirs at her father’s movements, but remains curled up.
There are only two bedrooms in the house, Kremy and Gideon decided they’d take the master bedroom, Frost and Gricko (plus Hootsie of course) took the guest room (with Frost on a Futon on the floor & Gricko on the bed with Hootsie curled up at his feet), and Torbek insisted on sleeping outside—claims the swamp noises are very soothing.
“Sorry Gricko,” Frost’s voice cracks slightly. He clears his throat before speaking up again, “I just had a, uh, a small nightmare.”
This seems to wake Gricko up a bit more, “Awe Frosty, I’m sorry, issere anyfing I can help you wif?”
“No, no, thank you though…just-just go back to sleep…”
“Mmkay,” Gricko agrees quickly, clearly wanting to get back to sleep, “See ya in the mornin’. Oh an’ if ya ‘ave anovver nightmare, you can wake me up, okay?”
“Okay, thank you, goodnight, Gricko,” Frost responds, moments later he can hear Gricko’s snoring start up once again.
He can no longer taste blood in his mouth, but the sore spot remains.
He doesn’t think he’s going back to sleep tonight…