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Most of the Bureau have trouble sleeping for one reason or another. Whether it’s from a new vantage point thousands of feet above Faerûn, a skewed day-night cycle, or nightmares, the wee hours of the morning are filled with wandering souls and extended coffee breaks. Even the newest recruits tend to practically shoot caffeine into their veins to function properly. Fantasy Costco has an amazing stock of caffeinated beverages for just that purpose and Garfield the Deals Warlock makes bank every time they restock.
Tres Horny Boys are no exception. In fact, they’re the poster boys for that rule. All three of them have what could possibly be the worst sleeping habits of all of them.
(It worries Angus for sure, not that he’d say anything for fear of ridicule. He just wants them to be happy and healthy.)
Merle’s issue is guilt. Guilt over his abandonment of his children, guilt over his failed marriage, guilt over his faith—or somewhat lack thereof, and guilt over what his friends have been put through. Guilt sours his stomach and keeps him awake late into the morning. Guilt haunts his dreams with ghosts of Mavis and Mookie, angrily accusing him of failure and incompetence. Guilt trains his gaze on his soulwood arm and his missing wedding ring—a polished coral band in the tradition of beach dwarves—and tears his heart in two. Guilt keeps him chugging chicory tea and missing nights of sleep until he passes the fuck out. Guilt is what motivates him, no matter how much anyone else tries to refute his claims.
(And his boys’ tormented faces, looking up at him, begging for healing spells he doesn’t have the slots for keeps him awake the most.)
Magnus has nightmares and memories that haunt him. Julia, specifically, but also Phandalin and Refuge and Lucas and Merle’s arm and that man in the red robe that is him but how could that be him if he doesn’t remember ever doing that?!! He wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, glad that Taako doesn’t ask questions and Merle knows when to leave well enough alone. He misses days of sleep until he passes out standing up and Taako has to Levitate him back to his bunk. It’s unhealthy and everyone knows it, but no one stops it. There’s no reason to. It would be hypocritical. They just give Magnus some chamomile tea and tuck him in and let him be. He’s a grown-ass adult and can deal with his own shit thankyouverymuch.
(But the phantoms of Julia and Noelle—not the robot but the halfling they never knew—and Barry Bluejeans and Sloane and Hurley and Captain Captain Bain and the millions of Phandalin residents scream at him whenever he closes his eyes and he just wants them to stop!)
Taako though? Taako doesn’t even fucking need to sleep. He’s a goddamn elf for shit’s sake. All he has to do is meditate and he’s fucking golden. But, yanno, sometimes he wants to pass the fuck out and just pass the time with blissful nothing. Flirt with death, as it were—and not the death that was boning him either. The issue there? Night terrors. Sometimes they were memories, sometimes they were fears, and sometimes they were just complete nonsense. He never remembered them when he woke but he did remember the fear and the exhaustion and the heart palpitations. Magnus and Merle knew all about them and knew not to wake him up when he started screaming and thrashing. They just let him ride it out. It was the best way to do things.
(But he spoke when he slept and the name Sazed crossed his lips more than any other.)
Between the three of them, they maybe got enough hours of sleep to help one person function properly. It’s not healthy and they know it but what do you do when you’re the goddamn saviors of all life on Faerûn? Apparently not sleep.
(But sometimes they pile on the couch, Taako and Merle on top of Magnus, who bear-hugs them, and drift off. There is safety in numbers after all.)