Chapter Text
pyre dreams about nothing.
well, he dreams about what it feels to see nothing.
the skin around his left eye is dressed with a jagged red cut that never quite healed, and his milk-white eye sees nothing. the burden of vision is left entirely to the other eye, and he dreams of that being excised away, too.
he dreams of being clawed at by sharpened talons, being knocked to the ground with a blade held to his chin and his opponent making one last swing towards the whites of his eyes, a fragment of a shattered vase swiping at him-
he remembers a flash of red, and a dangerous, paining wetness when he reaches to clutch his sight.
when they win, he wakes up in a void, but then he remembers that the lights are just off. by habit, he glides his thumb over his scar again and remembers vulnerability cost him half his world. he won't let it happen again. he can't afford to lose anything else.
there's only one bed. there's room for the both of them and words are spared for more worthwhile discussions. so tierny sleeps besides him.
when tierny sleeps beside him, she wakes up to pyre fighting a demon. at first, he mumbles about something she can't decipher, but then he startles from her slumber when he suddenly shouts and the both of them - being ex-soldiers-turned-wanted-fugitives, after all - end up waking up alert to an imaginary attack.
to spare them both the effort of trying (and failing) to return to rest with their battle-weathered mindsets, she knows now to bring him back to the earth before he can lose. he remembers where he is, and he remembers she's there, too.
"you were having a nightmare."
he sits up on the edge of his side of the bed.
she doesn't need to know, she doesn't need to know.
she doesn't need to know. he doesn't need her to do any detective work about him from even the smallest combination of words, to find out he has some sort of weakness that he doesn't even know about, so he says nothing to her.
other nights, tierny is the one muttering in her sleep.
no, no... wait. please...
the first couple of weeks, she seemed to sleep soundly, until he awoke to her clutching his arm. it wasn't until after that that he noticed her quiet pleas - don't leave... don't... - that pyre realized she had her own invisible foes.
sometimes, she wakes up reaching her hand out to her elusive companion. sometimes, she just extends her arm into empty space, and other times, she's laid her hand on her very real companion.
she quickly releases him from her grasp and turns on her side away from him. she squeezes her eyes shut, but when darkness won't drift her away again, she just gets up and finds something to keep her busy until either she wears herself out or light shines through the blinds.
pyre does it too. but for some reason, it's only ever the one who wakes up after the other who points out how impractical that is if they end up tired during the day.
when she lets go him, pyre turns to her. "what?", he quietly asks her, not angrily. "tierny?"
"nothing," she answers, but he caught on after the third or fourth time she's said that.
and he knows she knows better if he steals her answer.
scars. we all have them.
eventually, they learn. or at least, they open up a little to sooth one another's wounds.
when they've convinced the other to lie back down in the bed, before they kill the lights again, pyre asks to look at tierny. he memorizes her face to keep him tethered, even after he's left with nothing.
for tierny, she sleeps better when she occupies her hands with his.