expiationlogs | beyond the horizon of the place we lived when we were young [OPEN]

beyond the horizon of the place we lived when we were young [OPEN]

Who: Law & YOU
Where: Aldrip and the surrounding area
What: Settling in, getting up to hijinx, with a timeline anywhere from shortly after the TDM to the end of the month
Warnings: Probably nothin'.

Prompts in the comments, some open and some closed! Please feel free to drop any wildcards in the comments as well if there's something else you'd like to do. Law also has a toplevel at the Day of Devotion log, here!

If you'd like to plot something out, you can reach me on discord at tarocchi#8388, or on plurk at

astrologies!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ This has been... a really weird few days. It's been said already. We all know it. But it bears repeating, because it has been a really weird few days. Law hasn't slept much, if at all, across any of them. Not the first night, because he'd spent it outside waiting for Rinwell to show up, completely unable to accept the idea of going to sleep when they haven't found her yet. Not the second night, because... see above. Not the third night either, because by then that constant note of strained worry had turned into agitated restlessness and he'd given up the tossing and turning to get some air. And so on and so forth, to the point that he now physically, noticeably feels the sluggishness in every bone and muscle.

But it can't be helped. How the hell is he supposed to sleep with his father in the next room? As in, how is he supposed to sleep with that on his mind, hanging over his head, plaguing his conscience, but also as in, when he's in another room and not visible? Even if he can put his various anxieties and his worry for Rinwell out of his mind, remembering Zephyr is here always manages to get him back up again as soon as he's gotten settled.

It's hard to say if it had been better or worse after they'd all met up together and sat in the same room. Law had purposefully found a spot in a corner so nobody could sit next to him or directly in front of him, not wanting to bear the brunt of the glances askance he knew he'd be getting from the others. Distance is an old band-aid he slapped over an even older wound, and it isn't doing him any favors now, but at least it hasn't forced him into having to confront anything he isn't quite ready to handle directly. Just because Zephyr's alive doesn't mean he has to be clinging to him every second. Or making eye contact, sometimes. Instead, he stares at the floor, his lips a thin line but his brows creased with something like worry or sympathy or regret.

At night, when the doors are closed and they're apart, the switch flips and it's all he can do not to whine outside his room to be let in. It's driving him absolutely out of his mind, constantly worrying that Zephyr might disappear if he leaves him unattended and out of sight for long enough, either by virtue of just... what, going back to being dead or something, or maybe that he'll up and walk off on him again. Like before.

So he just doesn't allow for it. Every few hours he's creeping like a shadow out of his room and putting those eavesdropping skills of his to use, lurking at the door and listening in. If he hears voices, fine. No need to listen to what they're saying, just knowing they're in there is enough. What he really wants to hear, though, is snoring. That's when he knows the coast's clear to peek inside, twisting the door handle ever so carefully and peering around just enough to get a glimpse of him, lingering just long enough to let his eyes adjust in the dark and make sure it's really him sawing logs over there. Once he's satisfied, he shuts the door again.

Repeat ad nauseum. Several times a night. For like, a week or two or however long it's been. And of course he doesn't say anything about it. Why would he? What would he even say?

Anyways, he's getting sloppy from all that fatigue. Doesn't have his wits about him. It's late but it's not that late, and as usual, Law's working on wearing a groove in the floor from all his pacing. Sometimes, if his dad's really knocked out, he can hear that storm drain snore clear or the tenor of his voice through the wall that separates them, but not tonight. And he's anxious. And tired. He doesn't really think straight, just exits his room and heads for Zephyr's. He pauses at the door, but he doesn't really listen for very long before he tries the knob. Slightly delirious, he pushes the door too far too fast so that there's no quick recovery short of just slamming the door shut again.

Too late for that. The light's on, idiot, you couldn't have checked for that under the door first? If this were Cysloden, he'd be getting a grade of S for Straight To the Prison Tower.

Still, the door's only actually open enough that he can barely fit through it. Law ends up doing the only thing he can think of, which is to just go with it he guesses, and pokes his head in, forcing some vague look of feigned concern to cover up the absolutely out-of-his-gourd tired and full of regrets that he actually is feeling right this moment. ]

...Dad? Are you okay? I thought I heard, uh... something.

[ Not a peep. But sure. ]

_{[ Fortunately (depending on your point of view) Law wasn't the only one struggling to sleep. The first night Zephyr couldn't get comfortable no matter how hard he tried, but whether it was because the bed was too soft or the blankets too warm was anyone's guess. The second night he'd managed a few scant hours in the chair provided by the inn, pulled up close to the small fireplace but it wasn't enough to put him at ease. He'd been alright despite a stiff neck until his dreams had taken a turn for the grim and once he'd jolted awake in a cold sweat, that was it. Night number three... Time had finally caught up to him and Zephyr had finally managed to pass out on the bed, rendering him dead to the world until the next afternoon. Ordinarily he might've felt a little embarrassed about sleeping so damned late but considering everything else, he's certain everyone would've understood.

The other thing that kept him up at night was knowledge he felt like he shouldn't have had. It was one thing to know what Law had been up to but what was truly eating away at the older Dahnan was the fact that he was lucky to be here. It was the unspoken truth that Zephyr would never live to see the world outside of Cyslodia. Hell that much doesn't even bother him in the long run — everyone dies, and he isn't special. No, what truly, honest-to-gods bothers him isn't his impending fate.

It's knowing that whenever the others look at him they don't see Zephyr. They see a ghost.

He can try to deny it all he wants but despite his age and the decades of explosives going off around his head and his broken eyesocket, his vision and hearing work just fine. Hushed voices and averted gazes speak volumes and maybe if he'd come from a later point in time he'd be more understanding of it, but Zephyr hasn't experienced it yet. Maybe if he were more eloquent with his thoughts and actually speaking them into being it'd be easier, but he's always been clumsy when it comes to expressing himself. Especially now. Realistically he knows he shouldn't be so... all of this and considering he has the one thing he'd selfishly wanted for years Zephyr had expected himself to be doing whatever he could to make up for lost time and past mistakes.

Dreams, all of it. Instead of getting up and doing any of it, Zephyr remains in his room at night. He listens to chatter on the other side of the wall, too muffled to pick up on exact words but still enough to tell the Dahnan that Law was... well. He has friends from other realms. That was what he and his wife had always wanted for their son. Friends that you can count on. By all means he has nothing to worry about regarding him anymore and yet Zephyr still feels the tingle of anxiety scratching at the base of his spine every time they look at one another. Or more accurately every time Zephyr looks at him because eight out of ten times Law winds up averting his own gaze towards the floor. Sometimes he can hear her voice in the back of his mind chastising him and urging him to go "make things right" but every time he tries, he turns into the coward he had years ago.

Tonight he's so engrossed in his own thoughts that he doesn't hear the door down the hall creak open like he sometimes does at this hour. Zephyr's attention is so focused at the worn band he keeps twisting around his ring finger that he doesn't feel the vibration of footsteps through the floor, and when he catches his door opening in his peripherals, he starts from the edge of the bed.

Knocking his knee right into the endtable with a short hiss and forcing a dog-eared book off the surface and onto the floor. Thwump. Hopefully that didn't wake anyone else up. ]}

For cryin—

_{[ Ah. ]}

—Law?

_{[ Who else would it be? For a good five seconds Zephyr just sort of gawps at the door, knee raised to keep it (and his foot) out of harms way and his right hand still touching the left, ring and all. A zeugle with its head caught in the food stores, this one. ]}

I... No, I'm fine. Just... Talking to myself, that's all.

[ So much for stealth. To be fair, that all went out the window the moment Law left the room half-cocked to stalk his dad again, but still, Law winces partly in sympathy, partly in apology, and partly out of concern that they just woke the whole damn inn. There aren't any immediate reactions to the minor ruckus, though, so maybe they're lucky this time around. ]

S-Sorry. I—yeah. Of course you're okay. Probably just... someone outside or something.

[ You'd think that would be grounds to make an excuse to go check for this so-called prowler, but Law isn't thinking even remotely about any logical processes here. It's just pure blurting out whatever comes to mind and hoping nobody, namely Zephyr, asks any questions.

You'd also think this would be a fine time to excuse himself and leave, but much like his father, Law has the same sort of "busted" look on his face, gaping right back. It's the first time in awhile, since he started these late-night check-ins, that he's really been able to see him. Of course he sees him during the day, but it's... different at night. When they're apart and there's nothing for him to do but lay there and ruminate, and worry, and let his mind run away with all the things that are bothering him. He takes in the whole picture: the offended, bumped knee, the slouch of his posture at the table, one hand over the other, fingers pinched around... his ring. That's the sobering sight that finally smartens Law up, his teeth going straight for the inside of his lower lip and biting down.

His gaze may drift askew, like it often does, but it doesn't fix itself pointedly somewhere else, and the only expression really left on his face is the fatigue: heavy, ringed eyes, strain in all of his features like it's taking effort to keep them taut. ]

...You sure? It's late. Should be asleep.

[ Look who's talking. ]

_{[ Zephyr glances towards the window flanked by the tackiest curtains he's ever known which is really saying a lot considering there was a distinct lack of decor in the average Calaglian "home". Sure there've been the tell-tale signs of wildlife howling out in the fields beyond Aldrip and maybe an occasional cat fight (he since discovered that was the source of the Mystery Someone Being Murdered some nights ago), but nothing that has concerned him too much since then. He's even taken to sleeping with it open if only to take advantage of fresh air without nary a trace of smoke from mining pits or the distant stench of heavy machinery which, uh. Would be a terrible idea if someone had ill intentions within the town, but so far everything seems fine. Probably. ]}

Could've been, but I haven't heard anyth...

_{[ It's murmured mostly to himself, but loud enough for Law too. As he turns back to look at him, Zephyr's brows pull together in a barely-there frown as he finally takes in his appearance. His stance against the door, the dark "bruising" under his eyes, and the almost-glassy look in them is enough to make him slowly stop fidgeting with his ring. There it is again between them — that odd uncertainty like they're both standing on opposite ends of a rickety bridge bouncing in the wind. If Zephyr feels like something big ran him over then Law looks like something did. ]}

You're the one who should be asleep, son. Have you seen yourself lately?

_{[ Should he get up? Should he walk him back to his bed and make sure he goes to sleep? Maybe he should, but then he'd also risk waking up the boys — boys, as if they're both not in their twenties and probably thirties — if he did that. No doubt they'd start fussing too which necessarily wouldn't be a bad thing, but if Law is anything like how Zephyr was (and is), then that might prove to be more of a detriment than anything. So, Zephyr twists his ring around one more time and lets it go. His fingers rest over the former spirit core after that, itching to fidget with something.

You never used to be like this with him, he thinks to himself. He's your son.

He takes a slow breath and wills himself to not look away despite an unseen weight trying its best to coax him to. He can't keep running if he wants to try and fix this like he said weeks ago. ]}

You, uh. Bad dreams?

_{[ Because he's not the only one in that case. ]}

Huh? No, why?

[ Does he look tired? It's slipped his notice. A lot of things have, which really goes to show just how much he's changed since he left Cysloden. This kind of inattentiveness is the sort of thing that got you killed or shipped off to the floodlights. You couldn't afford to look tired, to start getting sloppy, missing details that could end in a report or some other kind of backstabbing. He knows how he feels, though: tired as hell. He knows he hasn't slept.

Law feels himself shrinking, a little, under Zephyr's gaze, but just as soon as he does, he pushes back, stands up a little straighter where he's hovering in the half-open doorway. As always, he wants to just let himself in, shut the door and stay here—he'd thought about it a couple times, honestly. Just sit on the floor and watch his father sleep, make sure nothing happens to him, and then be gone before he wakes up. Maybe not even that. Just stay. Sleep on the floor. Make up an excuse. But instead of give in to it, he goes on hovering, uncertain.

He does, at least, meet Zephyr's eye again, finally. ]

It's not that, I just... can't sleep. Someone's gotta keep watch, right?

[ That's a flimsy excuse and he knows it. This time he really does look all the way away. He wants to tell him, but he holds himself back there, too. Why is it so hard to just... reach out to him? Be honest. He sure was when he was screaming I hated you back in that alleyway, but now everything's so real. ]

I'll wear myself out eventually. It's okay.

No it isn't.

_{[ As gentle as his voice is there's an underlying layer of that good ol Parental Authority even if it doesn't show on Zephyr's face. There's working hard, then there's running yourself ragged and that's something Zephyr knows all too well. In the early days before the Crows were even an idea he'd taken it upon himself to stand watch for entire days as if it was going to prove something to the man who had taken him under his wing. That, of course, had resulted in a rather painful lesson some days down the line when he could barely focus on a thing that he'd been telling Zephyr and as a result wound up with a busted nose because he didn't hear him say block. Needless to say he had to learn mighty quick what his own limits were and that it was okay to let others take over and help from time to time.

Sometimes if Zephyr looks long enough he can see more of himself in Law than he wants to admit.

It's only when Law drops his eyes elsewhere that Zephyr sighs and brings his hand up to rub at his beard, mere seconds away from pinching the bridge of his nose. There's no need to get exasperated with him. Not while things were like this. That doesn't mean he can't let this slide though so after a few moments he pulls himself up to his feet and pads across the room as casual as can be, and reaches over Law's head to carefully and slowly push the door shut behind him. As much as he always wants people to make their own choices, this is one Zephyr is making for Law. You know, just for his own well-being.

A moment of hesitation and then that same hand moves to settle between Law's shoulderblades. Any other time and Zephyr might've laughed at how normal this must look from the outside; himself in pajamas that shockingly fit and his own son worn down looking like he was just an ordinary kid who had a bad dream. Like they were normal and not... the way they were now. ]}

Go grab a blanket.

_{[ And sit down sits nice and quiet at the end of it. As much as he wants to keep hovering, he doesn't and instead goes to throw another log or two on the fire. Once it's good and burning with plenty of heat again, Zephyr gestures to a spot on the rug some feet away and moves to sit down himself. Here. ]}

[ There's no need to put up a fight about it. He could make some stupid argument about being too old for his dad to tell him about bedtime, or that he doesn't have any business parenting him, or any of that garbage, but right now... god, he just doesn't have it in him for that level of resistance. That level of bitterness. It's not gone, he hasn't forgotten or forsaken it, it just isn't the prevailing thought in his mind. Hasn't been for a few days now. No matter what things have been like between them since they found each other at the arena, he hasn't once looked at his father with anything even remotely resembling malice. Not like back in Messia.

All he does is make a soft, sort of confused sound, and then another one that just sounds kind of—lost, as Zephyr ushers him in. A literal little push and a metaphorical one, too, exactly what he needed to stumble over that line in the sand between them and approach this without so much hesitation. Without looking up, he does as he's told and grabs a blanket from the bed, a bigger one that feels softer than most things he can remember ever having, save for maybe at the inn in Viscint, and brings it with him to sit down by the fire.

For the time being, he doesn't do anything with it just yet; rather, he keeps part of it wadded up in his hand, the rest piled on the floor next to him. Instead, he stares into the fireplace for a moment or two, watching the flames consume one of the logs, before he flicks his gaze in Zephyr's direction. ]

Sorry if I intruded on your... uh, talking to yourself time.

[ ?? weird but ok. Another pause, then— ]

I didn't actually hear anything. ...I was just checking on you.

_{[ All at once his posture relaxes when Law falls into place at his side, and without so much as a sigh Zephyr reaches about to pull the edge of the blanket up and over his shoulders. Law can keep the bunch in his hand, but let the old man go through the motion and routine of bundling someone up. There's just an extra layer of tenderness to it with his son, that's all. Hell, it doesn't even make itself known save for the lingering touch to one of his shoulders or an almost-worried stare.

He keeps his own fussing up until Law starts to speak, and that's when Zephyr lets his hands fall back over his own knees. That's... Huh. ]}

You didn... Checking on me?

_{[ Huh?? ]}

Why?

_{[ No judgement. Only some honest, gentle curiosity. ]}

Just 'cause.

[ So weird. He hasn't been attended to like this in a dog's age. Certainly wasn't anyone to do it for him after he left home, and nobody's really doing that for each other among his group of friends, either. Not really. There are certainly friendly gestures, they help each other out, contact happens, looking after one another and all that, but... this is kind of different. A little bit clammed up, Law watches Zephyr's hands move about from the corner of his eye, not with wariness but more like how you'd watch a bird that lights on the table beside you. Trying not to make it obvious you're looking, trying not to call attention to yourself and scare it away.

It's only after Zephyr draws back that Law finally spreads the blanket out, part of it over his legs, crossed in front of him, the rest of it offered out for his father to drape over himself if he wants. All that fidgeting about buys him a moment or two to not have to actually answer the question. When there's no more fidgeting left to do, Law bites the inside of his cheek again. ]

...Just 'cause. [ Uh huh. You said that already. ] I mean, you're by yourself in here. Wouldn't know if something happened.

[ And boy oh boy has his mind been running wild with all the many things that could happen. ]

Me being in here on my own was the only thing that made sense. You put me in with you three boys and it'd have been more cramped than the house was when you were a kid, and the girls... They don't need an old man like me intruding on their space. I'd wind up driving them crazy with my sleep mumbling as is.

_{[ Or Dahna forbid spilling all sorts of embarrassing childhood stories about Law, but he doesn't need to say that. There's also the matter of the whole "literally-dead-to-them" berserker-sized zeugle in the room that Zephyr isn't entirely sure how to address which only adds on another awkward layer of complication. The thought still crosses Zephyr's mind and it pulls a barely-there frown out of him, but it disappears in favor of taking the offered corner of the blanket and pulls it over his own shoulder.

It's a far cry from the moth-eaten fabrics he'd grown accustom to back in Ulzebek. A lot warmer and heavier, too. ]}

Besides... What would even happen? Besides banging my knee on the table or stubbing my toes on the rest of the furniture, 'course.

_{[ Y'know, besides the worst? Falling out the window? Smothering himself to death in the blankets without meaning to? Nicking himself with the straight razor when he shaves in the morning? ]}

[ No arguments there. No arguments when they'd decided on rooming arrangements, either. It made sense to divide them up, girls and guys. Nobody complained about Zephyr having his own space (although Law suspects, just based on the split-second looks in his direction he might've just imagined, that some among them expected him to room with his dad, for no reason other than that they're related and maybe it would be good for them? But when the conversation was happening, he'd purposefully kept his mouth shut). It shouldn't have been a problem. It isn't a problem, Law insists on correcting himself.

He just hadn't accounted for the way his mind would run away with fears and worries whenever they'd end up apart for very long. Without any distractions to keep him focused elsewhere, the comfort of daylight hours, safe company to keep, and plenty to keep them occupied. He hadn't been prepared to feel the emotions he feels, either. Afraid for Zephyr's safety, and an almost painful pull to just... want to see him again. To talk to him. To make sure he's still there.

Law's shrug is more of a prolonged hunch of his shoulders, raising them practically to his ears and leaving them there for a long couple of seconds. He looks away, staring into the fire again with an expression that could almost pass for frustrated. If he is experiencing any feelings related to anger, it's directed more at himself than anything else. Zephyr's right, there's nothing to worry about. He's being irrational. He's being a lot of things, and he needs to cut it out.

He mutters his answer almost under his breath. ]

Nothing needs to happen for you not to be here.

[ And then a little less mutter-y, ]

But if something did, I just want to know before it's too late.

_{[ Years ago the natural course of action would've been to have thrown his arm around Law's shoulder and pull him into his side. As it stands Zephyr winds up shifting his attention to the fire and turns his left hand into a loose fist in order to brush the tip of his thumb against the underside of that ring. Does it do anything? No, not really, but it's a comfort regardless. It's also subtle enough to pass off as flexing his fingers too because just as he makes contact with the smooth metal, he's rubbing his palms over his knees. At least there's one small bonus to whatever they're doing right now; Zephyr doesn't have to see Law looking at him like he's a ghost.

That, he thinks, is the worst part of it all. When he'd think about reuniting with his son he never imagined it would've been like that. He never imagined things would've gone the way they evidentially did, and maybe if he had gone about things differently they would've gone better. Maybe he wouldn't feel the prickle of anxiety every time he'd look Law's way or feel the pull in his heart urging him to glue himself to his back.

Maybe he wouldn't be such a damn coward. ]}

I told you I wasn't going anywhere, didn't I?

_{[ Too defensive? Not at all, but Zephyr shakes his head with a low exhale. ]}

You have every reason in the world to not trust a word I say, but... I meant it. I'm not going anywhere. Where would I even go, anyway?

[ The frustration bottoms out into flat disdain, and Law wrestles with that, too, inside and out. He shouldn't have said it, shouldn't have confessed his real intentions here in the first place. At least now, unlike in Cyslodia, he knows the reason why he's angry: it's because he cares, not because he doesn't. Worrying over him for the last week or more has made that pretty clear, even to him.

His lips purse, swallowing his bitterness, but some of it still manages to find its way out through all the cracks in his veneer. He's never been good at having a wall up around other people, even when he was his most enmeshed in the Snake Eyes. Nature or nurture, who knows, but he's always been driven by a powerful need to be close to others. Hold on, and never let go. ]

I dunno, dad. Where did you always go? How do I know you wouldn't just take right off if you found out who was behind us being here? Or who charged us with these so-called crimes? Or just because?

[ Always putting the fight ahead of everything else. Not like he can just assume Zephyr would be smart enough not to do anything stupid, like try to handle it on his own; first of all, he saw evidence of just how stupid Zephyr was willing to be back in Messia. Second of all... Law is just the same. Maybe not so much now that he has his friends by his side, but if he thought he could do something on his own to protect them, yeah, he'd probably just go and do it. ]

Or what if we're not actually safe here and someone targets you because you're by yourself? You snore like a boar and didn't even hear me come in all this time. I just—I'm just being vigilant. No surprises.

[ No tragedies. And no eye contact this entire time, either. ]

_{[ He has no argument for the former half. Chances are if he did find out who accused them all, he'd go looking around to confront them about it. Zephyr wouldn't fight his own charges, but Law's? Alphen's? Shionne's? He never asked what they were but whatever crimes they'd been saddled with had to have been a load of bullshit. The part of him that has always bitten back with conflict bares its teeth for a moment and though he opens his mouth to protest against just because, no words come out.

Zephyr shuts his mouth with an audible click of his teeth and sets his jaw, his breath coming out a little more forcefully from his nose.

Temper. That's what she would always say when he'd get himself wound up over whatever fight was going on outside their doorstep. Over the Renans hitting their hideouts after they'd been secure for so long. Losing people. People urging him to run and survive for them. She was right, too. There was no point in getting angry on their behalf when there were still others to protect and look out for. There was no need to get upset here with Law, not when he wants so desperately to mend the bond torn by pride and grief.

Especially not when his son was right. Mostly. ]}

You make it sound like I'm defenseless.

_{[ After the last few weeks it sure feels like it sometimes. When he swings a fist he still feels his ribs cry out — they'd been broken, definitely. When he gets up in the morning sometimes he feels the stiffness in his shoulders, and his head still aches more than he wants to admit around his eye and temple courtesy of the busted eyesocket that was still on the mend. It'd be easy enough to just go to Shionne and ask for something more thorough, but that pride... that damned pride. ]}

Why would anyone target me? Who would for that matter? That other Renan?

_{[ Other Renan. Not Shionne, and not Dohalim. He'd only met the latter recently, and the introductions had been brief. Zephyr didn't know anything about him but this other one sure wasn't the Lord of Elde Menancia. ]}

Law—

Maybe.

[ The Other Renan sure didn't have any problems with attacking him. They could've come to a loose agreement, but that's as good as off the table now. Law's got the rough, shallow scar from the shard of ice he couldn't dodge to cite as reasoning for that. Is he crazed enough to go after them one by one? Do something deliberately, to wound them? Like, say, kidnap Shionne again? Go after his father?

Maybe.

Law's tension hits an all-time high, fraying when Zephyr speaks his name. He turns a little too sharply toward him, finally looking him in the face. It's easy to read anger in his expression, but there's a lot more to it than that. This would all be so much easier if he could just say what's really at the heart of all this: I just want to protect you. If only that didn't get all screwed up by all the complexes—and complexities—he has about this whole thing. ]

I don't know, okay? I just don't want to take any chances! I—

[ Realizing his volume's climbed, Law checks himself. Fists clenched, eyes averted, searching for a good place to compartmentalize the way he feels. If that doesn't do it, the sobering thought currently in his head does. Zephyr can take care of himself, even against a so-called Sovereign. Law doesn't have any intention of shadowing his every step, fussing over him like an overprotective mother hen. It'd be an insult to act that way. An accusation of I don't think you can handle yourself is part of what drove him to run away from home, in a way, too: the insinuation that he, in spite of being too small to go to war yet, wasn't any good for anything. Not invited to come along, cast off, a weak child with a sick mother. It was never said, but it was implied in the action. No matter what he feels, he wouldn't want to lobby the same thing back in Zephyr's face.

But the image in his head of the last time he saw his father alive before now keep him awake, over-cautious and over-vigilant. Sleepless with grief and the desperate desire not to let it come to pass a second time, in a place where perceived threats could be lurking anywhere. ]

...I've seen what you look like when you're defenseless. I don't wanna see it again, okay?

Then stop looking at me like I—

_{[ This is how someone could tell that they were related. It's the look in Zephyr's own eyes as he turns his head, expression almost mirroring that of his son's only more... not distraught, but lost. Angry, lost, and stuck all at once. Then just as quickly as their eyes meet, they both look elsewhere. While Law searches inside of himself, Zephyr presses a fist into the top of his knee and stares into the fire. This wasn't his forte and he knows it. He's always known it which was why he'd always defer to his wife with situations like this and regulate himself to backup-slash-support. He never had a problem confronting or comforting others, so to have this much difficulty with his child and himself has always been a struggle.

Here he was, one of Calaglia's most infamous rebels. Zephyr was a man who survived a childhood in the mines, being shot in the head, countless zeugles and Renan soldiers and never backed down even when a Lord was threatening everything he held dear and yet...

For the third time in his life Zephyr feels terrified.

When he finds his voice it's almost strained and too quiet, but in the dead of night in this room it feels like he's in an echo chamber. Somewhere buried under the hesitation and strain is a desperate plea for... something. ]}

What comes to pass hasn't happened for me, Law. I know it has for you and the others — I look at them and they stare at me like I'm a ghost, but I'm alive.

_{[ And gods, doesn't that sound pathetic? Outside of the few instances with his wife, Zephyr can't recall the last time he'd peeled back the layers he'd built up around himself. It's incredibly clumsy, but it's. It's something. It's something and he takes another breath, counts back from three, and finds himself moving his hand from his own knee to Law's. Stay, it says. ]}

I'm the one who's supposed to be running myself ragged to protect you, not the other way around.

How am I supposed to help it?! You might be able to—

[ Don't go there. Law bites his tongue. He didn't come here to fight. That might be his default to solution to everything, but he doesn't want to argue. Not here, not now. Maybe it's inevitable—no, it's definitely inevitable. These are things that have to get said eventually, but... like this? Right now? Teeth grinding, he quiets himself, struggling with the need to be understood. He can make himself understood without resorting to saying things like what he almost said just now.

In the grudging silence that follows, Zephyr finds his clarity first. It isn't really a sentiment fit to ease the pain of what he and the others have been through, but on the other hand, it does provide something else: hope. Isn't that a reminder of exactly why he's been tossing and turning, peeking in night after night? Because Zephyr is alive, and as long as Law has anything to say about it, that's how it's going to stay.

The softness of Zephyr's voice wrests vehemence away and leaves only that same melancholy feeling of something like sympathy mixed with regret. Swallowing quietly, Law unbunches one fist and lays it over Zephyr's hand, instead. Not looking at him yet, but at their hands, at least. ]

I'm not a kid anymore, dad. I can take care of myself. And I know you can too, but I... I just want to know you're there. So I'm gonna keep checking on you. I'm gonna watch your back. If you don't like it, too bad, can't stop me.

_{[ It's tempting to turn his hand over to give Law's a squeeze, but that's too much for him to process in the moment. For now Zephyr lets his eyes drift over to them, to Law's hand covering the mangled scar and swallows down the uncomfortable twinge building up in his throat. He's still angry but more at himself now than anything else. He doesn't have the power to change the past and magically make things right between them, not even in his dreams. Something always goes wrong in them, always resulting him losing both and waking up in that cold sweat and rarely, with a panicked shout.

(Yet another reason why Zephyr hadn't asked to stay with someone. They didn't need to deal with his night terrors. )

One thing is abundantly clear through the clusterfuck that he calls his own emotions though. It's small, but it's still something he can pull from the mess and hold onto. ]}

I know you're not. You're...

_{[ But he keeps going and his words encircle Zephyr's heart like a serpent, sinking its fangs in and squeezing with all its might. ]}

You're a grown man. I can't stop you from doing what you want, but that doesn't mean I have to like the idea of you putting yourself in harm's way for me. You could be seventy and you'd still be the kid I'd have to carry down from the roof because you'd get yourself stuck up there.

_{[ A quiet huff of laughter and he shakes his head, free hand coming up to scratch at his collar. That's an old habit he hasn't done in a long, long time and he's hardly even aware he's doing it. ]}

You don't have to sneak around either. You can... You know.

That was one time!

[ Actually, it was more than once, but he only freaked out about it once, so those other times don't count. After the first time, the reckless lunatic part of his brain had already kicked in, so he'd just resorted to jumping and finding something to swing from on the way down, or some other gray-hairs-inducing harebrained way of getting himself unstuck that he's lucky he even survived unscathed.

Law doesn't leave his hand over Zephyr's any longer than what's "necessary," if only because he feels weird about it. Once he's taken it away again, he feels weird about letting go, though, too. It's no surprise this is weird for him, but it also feels like it shouldn't be so... awkward. It shouldn't be so uncomfortable. He'd ask himself, what happened to the days where he could jump all over his dad, wrestle around with him, curl up between his parents at night and swing from his arm, ride on his shoulders, all that— but he knows exactly what happened to those days. They both know exactly what happened to those days. And that's just the kicker, isn't it, that brings them back full circle. That leaves Law pursing his lips, torn between a soft smile of his own and another one of those grim frowns.

In the end, neither expression wins out. He chews the inside of his cheek, and this time it isn't that hard to look at him. For once, it isn't. ]

Mm, can't help it. Sneaking's just what I do. That and punching things.

[ And that's it, the breadth and width and whole of all Law thinks he's any good for. But at least he doesn't say that, exactly. This time. For now. ]

Just... didn't wanna wake you. If you're snoring like that, you gotta be having a good sleep.

Since when do I snore?

_{[ Oh, probably since the third or forth time he had his nose broken. Was it that time he'd gotten popped in the nose by his mentor? Or was it when he'd wound up taking the butt of a gun to the face? Truthfully those instances wind up blurring together after so many years but that isn't what's important here. The real big deal is there's a moment of levity between them, even if it's tiny. Especially that it's tiny. It's a start and that's what matters the most, right?

There comes a point where Zephyr winds up letting his hand slip from Law's knee too, but he doesn't move it from the space between them on the floor. He can't bring himself to just yet. ]}

...But if I'm that far gone then I doubt a creaky door would wake me up. Pretty sure I'd sleep through you tripping over me too if the past has anything to say about it.

_{[ Now, getting punched or a well-aimed headbutt to the solar plexus? That's a different story. ]}

Do the others ever notice when you slip out at this hour?

You've... always snored like that, dad. Not all the time, but if you knock out just right... sounds like a friggin' boar zeugle.

[ It's kind of weirdly comforting, in a way. A snoring Zephyr is an alive, asleep, contented Zephyr. The nights when he'd be asleep but silent meant Law would have to creep a little further into the room to make sure he was still breathing at all. Him sleeping straight through the creaking door or a squeaky floorboard just prove Law's point from earlier, that he's as good as a sitting duck if anyone did decide to drop in on him for whatever reason. There's not much rational thought behind that worry, but he's not about to let it go after one conversation.

But at least now that he's talked about it out loud, they know exactly what the score is. That's more than they can say for... almost anything else between them, really. It's a start. It's something. ]

I don't think so. They don't wake up and nobody's said anything. I can't even lay still most of the time, and that's not waking them up either... Alphen and Dohalim really sleep like logs.

[ So does he, maybe about fifty or sixty percent of the time. The other percent is the featherlight sleeper, always having to watch his own back, sensitive to every noise or, if not something external, then just to his own dreams. ]

Usually I just go out and get some air. Seems like everybody in this place sleep like logs, honestly.

Ah, come on...

_{[ It can't be that bad is what he wants to say but thankfully his tone infers the rest of it. For a moment it damn near feels like the way things once were with the two of them teasing one another until She wound up "scolding" the pair and with that comes an odd pang that goes straight through his heart. As strange as it was it felt... nice. Normal. Even the barely-there smile has to count for something, right? ]}

I suppose there's something to be said for having four walls and a roof over your head at night, huh? And an actual bed, too.

_{[ Zephyr twists to look back at the bed in question, brows pinching together in uncertainty. Back at the cabin in Cyslodia, he'd taken watch by the fire while the others slept. They needed the rest more than he did but he couldn't deny his own curiosity about what it must've been like. Now he knows and to make matters worse he isn't sure if he could ever go back to sleeping on the hard ground. ]}

Has it... always been like that for you?

_{[ Obviously not always-always. Hell, Zephyr ought to know how Law slept better than anyone while they all lived together in Ulzebek. He means after That Day. ]}

[ This is how it was supposed to be. How it should've been, after he rescued Zephyr from execution. They should've been able to talk. They could've fought side by side if Ganabelt hadn't ambushed them. All of that got snatched away in the blink of an eye, and Law's struggling to find his footing now that it's been shoved back into his hands with no warning. Even though it wasn't wrong, he wishes he hadn't said there was no time to talk. Now that they finally can, it's... well, could be better. But it could be worse. It feels good not to be so goddamn serious for a minute.

He even smiles, just a little, his eyes on still Zephyr as he turns. Not that he's been spoiled by luxury himself or anything—far from it. But he's at least had the opportunity to sleep in a nice bed not made of sticks, with a pillow and a blanket, that didn't reek of old blood or desert dust. Like the vegetables, it makes him happy to see his father get to enjoy things he never had. That's what he should have gotten to do in the first place.

But of course, Goddamn Serious comes back and the smile fades. At least this time he doesn't look completely grim and miserable. ]

Depends, I guess. I get nightmares real bad, but not all the time. Since all of us started traveling together—after we left Elde Menancia, I mean—I usually sleep a lot better. Safety in numbers, I guess.

[ That's not it and he knows it. Sure, yeah, maybe a little, but the reason he sleeps so well is because he trusts his friends. And because he never could stand being alone. Not even for a minute. There's nothing lone about this wolf, that's for damn sure. Never has been. ]

Since we got here, though... I don't think I've slept more than a few hours. I just can't. Still, it makes me feel better knowing everybody else is comfortable.

_{[ Bad ones. That's what stands out the most to Zephyr and though his own smile remains, it doesn't quite reach his eyes the way it had before. It's funny to think that there had been so much damn hesitation in his body before but now he finds it strangely absent as he pulls his hand from between them, shifting to worm it under the blanket properly and threads it up between it and the back of Law's neck. Then, even further to awkwardly slip his fingers into his hair all so he can give it a tussle like he once did all those years ago.

No matter how many times Zephyr would find himself comforting the other kids around Law's age, this was something they never got from him. This was a touch meant for father and son alone. ]}

Then you really are staying with me tonight, kiddo. You've been watching over me, so lemme do the same for you.

_{[ At least that way it might soothe Law's anxieties long enough to get a decent rest. Or so Zephyr hopes. His fingertips tease at a barely-there tangle in some of the longer strands of Law's hair, the smile finally fading. ]}

And... hey, if it helps, uh. You're... not the only one. Having bad dreams. I ain't gonna pry into 'em if you don't wanna talk about 'em, but I get it.

_{[ He'll take "Things That Shouldn't Be So Hard To Say To Your Son" for 500 gald, Alex. ]}

[ With a soft noise in the back of his throat, Law starts to duck his head away, but leaves it at the last second. It's been a long, long time since Zephyr did that—since anyone has, really. Even with all the myriad things that make this reunion difficult and complicated to navigate, he has no reason to pretend as though the gesture isn't welcome. That he hadn't missed it. His chest tightens, but it doesn't strangle the voice out of him, thankfully. Which is great, because while he isn't going to feign displeasure with a hair ruffle, he does still have it in him for this: ]

Stay? Dad, I'm too old for that.

[ The hell he is. And honestly, all it takes is hearing Zephyr say he has the nightmares too for him to immediately feel his resolve to act like he's far too grown up to share a room with his father start to crumble. It shouldn't really be a surprise—what Dahnan doesn't have nightmares? Is there one alive that hasn't seen something awful, experienced something traumatic, lost something precious? Highly unlikely, if not almost impossible. Each and every one of his friends have been through horrible things, and although they all process their grief differently, still...

It's just kind of strange to hear Zephyr say it. To be reminded that even a big hero, lifelong fighter and tough, stern father has things that they're afraid of. We all grow up thinking our parents are so much older and wiser, they've got it all figured out by now. But eventually you find out they're human too, and usually it's in the shittiest possible way. ]

You too? I mean, that just sounds like I'm the one who needs to keep lookin' out. I've had a good night's rest. When's the last time you did? Before coming here and snoring the house down, I mean.

beyond the horizon of the place we lived when we were young [OPEN]

CLOSED TO ZEPHYR

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