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Sonia is unexpectedly bad at waking up in the mornings.
For a princess, the expectations always were that she was up at dawn and street ready by seven – eight if she was lucky, but the people of Novoselic were such early birds that she couldn’t bear to let them down – and so it had been so for many years, despite her own wishes to lounge around in bed well up to noon (and even later, though she had never tried!). Nowadays, she only woke early out of habit, and supposed that she may as well keep the image of being a morning person up for those around her; for they seemed to adore her own princess title more than she did herself.
But waking up on Jabberwock Island for the first time – the real Jabberwock Island, she realizes with a start – Sonia decides that she ultimately needs to change. To follow her own path; lest she fall victim to despair again. She has to do what she has to do.
Her body, not her mind, needs to be in control.
So she lets herself sleep in. Later, later, later. Maybe, she thinks, if she spends enough time in bed sleeping, all the nightmares will exhaust themselves and vanish before she wakes up. It’s wishful thinking, but it’s something. And something, in these circumstances, is always better than nothing.
Her memories jumble sometimes, and she can’t remember if she’s a princess or a dark queen or Junko’s soldier anymore. Regardless, she can no longer stand the weight of a crown on her head, the suffocating tightness of makeup on her skin, and all thoughts of jewelry make her feel sick. Long dresses remind her too much of sweeping skirts over blood-stained streets, and when she looks in the mirror – seeing all the scars – not only does she sometimes not quite remember what she is; but wonders if she is anything at all.
So in the end, she wants to hold onto the only part of her she’s sure about – the part that’s Sonia Nevermind and Sonia Nevermind alone – and that’s why she’s still in bed.
Thinking. Resting. Reflecting.
She knows the others might begin to worry, and she doesn’t mean to do that to them. She’d certainly go around and apologize later. But everyone works differently.
They need to understand that she, too, needs to sort things out her own way.
They do understand, she amends in her head. Even though everyone works differently, the problem, rather, runs along the same lines.
Hinata, for example, hates the very thought of sleep, and had once confided with her about it. He’s scared, mostly, that he’d fall asleep as Hajime Hinata and wake up as someone else. He’s so scared that he hasn’t been in his cabin for the times when he has managed to fallen asleep; it’s no longer a shock to find him sprawled on the ground in the pod room or simply restlessly lying under a tree or across a couch.
Once, on a midnight trip to fetch a glass of water, Sonia had encountered him slouched over the sink in the kitchen, constantly squirting himself awake. That was where she had sat him down, and let him talk. Talk, talk, talk. About nightmares, about losing his identity. About the lingering thoughts in his head that are not his, and how they jar his memories, and his bodily functions, and even the very words leaving his mouth.
Sometimes, Hinata tells her, that there’s secrets he wants to share, but Izuru will hold his mouth shut and his throat closed, and he can’t tell a single soul about it.
She tells him that she’s sorry. He says it’s not her fault.
And that is that.
For Souda, it’s actually the opposite. Sonia didn’t think it would be hard to get him to spill – admittedly, she had underestimated him for quite some time, but for good reason considering his own lack of confidence – but he does, eventually, when he can no longer waste the days away just sleeping in his cabin, ignoring all his problems because he can’t bring himself to deal with them.
He tells her over a cup of tea (her tea, his cola, she supposes that’s one thing that will never change) that he just doesn’t think he can handle it anymore. The dual, overlapping memories. The weariness, and no longer the thrill, that comes from drowning in despair. The bodies, ambiguously stacking in his mind, both friend and foe and all in between. He says if he could sleep forever, he would.
She laces her fingers together and gently replies that he shouldn’t. They have a world to fix, and mistakes to redeem, and places to be, and better people to become.
He tells her that he knows. She says that she’s glad.
But she’s been watching him closer ever since.
Kuzuryuu is a special case, because compared to everyone else on the island, his sleep cycle is very regular. On the outside, he sleeps healthy hours and causes little trouble. Nobody has ever caught him sleeping outside his own bed, or trapping himself in his own bed either, but Sonia – having an eye for observation – eventually notices even the smallest things.
Unfocused eyes, rough voice, constant headaches, endless exhaustion. Unrefreshed from morning until night; he may as well not have slept at all, so she asks anyway. He doesn’t talk straight away; Kuzuryuu had never been the type. Yet he caves under her concern, when she’s caught him spacing out and forgetting how to do the simplest task, and it all sums down to be chronic fatigue.
He idly thumbs through a torn tourist pamphlet when she brings this diagnosis to light, and instead of the fire of retaliation she was expecting, he just sighs. Instead of fighting it, he is resigned.
She tells him that it’s okay. He says that it will never be okay, but thanks anyway.
So then he goes, and there’s nothing else she can do.
Owari is a lot harder to pinpoint. Sonia had always known her to be a fan of moving around; and her talent and her passion for life and laughter only played emphasis on this fact. Moreover, whatever it was that troubled Owari, the brunet never lingered on long, and Sonia had hoped that this too would be the case. If for the gymnast’s own benefit, as well as that of everyone else’s.
Yet some time during their old days of despair, perhaps Owari learnt a few tricks about faking a smile. If it had not been for Sonia’s occasional walks to see how Hinata was faring with his insomnia, she would not have noticed Owari’s peculiar sleeping locations, and if she had not attempted to seek her out the following night – only to find that the woman had moved places, then moved places again – Sonia does not think she would have ever figured it out.
When she brings it up in conversation, Owari only laughs, and remarks that Sonia needn’t be so worried. Still, Sonia offers her own place up, and lets her know that she’s always welcome if she needs to sleep somewhere safe.
Owari says not to be silly.
However, she comes occasionally, and it’s all Sonia needs – to know that there’s no-one in the world strong enough to protect themselves forever.
Perhaps, Sonia thinks, that’s what they’ve got each other for.
She drags herself upward, into a sitting position and laments the loss of extra time she could have spent in bed. No, she scolds herself, this is more important.
Slowly toeing off the covers, she proceeds to go off and make herself presentable. It’s not hard, now that she’s forgone the jewels and the long skirts and the excess accessories. It feels a little empty sometimes, but it’s not hard. With one final brush of her hair, she nods to the mirror and smiles as bright as she can.
Nothing like a burst of positivity to get through another grueling day, after all.
Then she crosses her fingers and hopes that everyone is in the Hotel Restaurant so she can bring her plan into action. Luck is on her side, because they are, and she enters with an air of grace, as if she were preparing to deliver a speech.
It’s not anything grand, or anything excessive, and she’s all the more happy for it not to be.
Hinata waves over the top of his juice, Souda works for a smile, Kuzuryuu nods and Owari has her mouth half-full.
“Everyone,” Sonia begins, with a quick clap of her hands. “Let’s have a sleepover tonight.”