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Cliffwatch Camp was too much.
The Knights of Favonius often drank late into the night, and tonight was no exception. Voices sang in unison across camp, the tune a near-haunting melody depicting their heroism, and it grated against your ears. The camp had plunged into disarray once Varka had brought the Knights as backup for the Lightkeepers. You were truly grateful for their assistance—Kuutar knew you wouldn’t have survived this long without them—but on nights like tonight, you wanted them to quit their singing and allow for some gods-damned peace and quiet.
Your lover didn’t make this situation any easier for you. He was always busy writing a report, or drafting another battle plan, or scouting a new area for the next mission. He had dropped the metaphorical ball when it came to you, and you were feeling severely underappreciated of late. Why did your boyfriend have to be Squad Leader, anyway?
You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to make yourself calm down. Camp was okay, you were okay, nothing was out of place. You shouldn’t be getting so worked up about some innocuous singing; if it was any other night, and you’d sit down and try to learn their songs so you could join in. But tonight, you just wanted to sleep before the dawn brought along new horrors for you to deal with.
Maybe you needed a shower first. You were still covered in mystery fluid from your battle against the Wild Hunt, and you wanted it off of you as soon as possible. It felt sticky and viscous as it seeped through your clothes, and the feeling made your skin prickle with agitation. All of your nerves felt like they were on fire—you felt too much, heard too much, saw too much—and you wished you could turn off the part of your brain that controlled your human senses.
You retreated to your tent for the time being, opting to wipe yourself down with a damp cloth and change into a clean uniform. The singing trailed you as you tried to tune it out. Couldn’t they lower their voices just a little bit?
Why were you the only one affected so much by everything around you?
You crouched, sitting on the ground in your tent, and clutched your knees to your chest. Maybe you just needed to regulate your emotions a little better when it came to the sensory overload you were experiencing. A little bit of meditation would help, right?
Wrong.
You heard the shuffle of footsteps outside your tent, and you whined. Couldn’t you have a few minutes of time to yourself before you were sent back into the path of the Wild Hunt?
A figure moved a flap aside and entered your tent, and his mouth took the shape of a silent ‘oh.’ You bit your lip as you slowly met his eyes, unshed tears welling up in yours.
“Oh, birdie,” Illuga sighed, swiftly closing the gap between you. He sat across from you and gently pried your hands away from your knees. His presence was so steady as he squeezed your hands, applying a firm pressure to pull you out of your spiral. “Can you talk right now?”
You shook your head, biting your lip to keep a sob inside your throat. A tear rolled past your lashes, and you sniffed. His eyes met yours, and it would have felt almost intrusive if it was anyone else.
“Okay, okay.” He wiped a tear from your cheek and went back to squeezing your hands. “Can you breathe with me, birdie? Just mimic me.” You nodded ever so slightly, giving his suggestion a chance. “Good girl,” he murmured, trying to coax you away from your thoughts. The pet name made you melt just a bit, and you wanted to behave for him. “In-“ he inhaled, albeit a bit dramatically, to make his point. “-and out.” He watched as you followed his lead, and he kept your hands firmly in his as you kept the pattern going.
After a few cycles of deep breaths, you pulled your hands away from his to wipe your face. “S- sorry,” you sniffled, adjusting your position to sit cross-crossed instead. “This is a- a bit embarrassing.”
He tilted his head, brows furrowing. “Why?”
You stared at him, feeling a bit silly. “You walked in on my meltdown,” you grumbled, rubbing your thumbs together in a soothing motion.
He reached across your lap to smooth out your hair. It was starting to come out of your braid, and some pieces in front were starting to look a bit frizzy. His hand lingered near your face, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned into his touch. “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he soothed as a smile spread across his face. His pretty indigo eyes sparkled as you peered into them. He blushed a little before asking, “Like what you see, birdie?”
It was your turn to blush. “Y- you’re ridiculous.” You wiped another tear as a shaky laugh passed your lips. “Must be why I love you.”
“Must be,” he nodded, chuckling. “Come here, baby.” He opened his arms, and you shuffled into them, getting cozy in his lap. You rested your head against his chest, listening to his heart beating steadily beneath his ribs. Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump, th-thump…
The sound was so rhythmic in your ears. You slowly let go of your anxious thoughts, and before long, you felt your eyes flutter shut. He stroked your hair, and the soft, receptive touch lulled you to sleep.
“Sleep well, birdie.” He held you like that for quite some time, keeping you safe amongst the pandemonium of camp. Tomorrow, he’d figure out how to make camp a bit less chaotic. Surely the Knights could sing a bit quieter, and the Lightkeepers could shoulder some of his responsibilities for a day. Tomorrow, he promised. Tomorrow, he would make it all up to you, his beloved songbird.