13109/Dreams Are Not Always Pleasant

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Dreams Are Not Always Pleasant
Date of Scene: 24 April 2021
Location: Buffy's Room, Apartment 214
Synopsis: Nightmares were had. Comforting followed.
Cast of Characters: Xiang Zhao, Vitali Svyatoslav




Xiang Zhao has posed:
The dream is one that has been had before. Many times before. It's one that Xiang Zhao is not particularly fond of. There is a building on fire. It looks like a large enough building to be an inn that rents out rooms, as well as probably serves food and alcohol. Black smoke pours from it and red flame licks at the sky. Li Wang, a young man with hair as black as a raven's feathers, can be seen darting into the building. A voice calls out, "Li Wang, bu!" The voice is familiar to Zhao. Intimately familiar to him. It's his own voice. "Buyao jinqu! Ni hui si! Qing! Huilai!" His voice is devastated.

As the dream shifts, Xiang Zhao can be seen. Hair shorter, expression matching his voice, soot covering his face. He's a lot younger, he looks fifteen or sixteen. He's also got more weight on him in the dream. He runs toward the building flames pour out of, only to be caught by the crowd as he tries to get through them. He's held back, unable to get to the building. "Fang kai wo! Fang kai wo!"

Moments later, Li Wang stumbles out of the building, smoke trailing from his clothing, cradling a little girl in his arms. The villagers take the little girl, and release Xiang Zhao at the same time. Zhao rushes to Li Wang's side, catches him as he crumbles. "Bu.. bu bu bu.. Qing buyao si. Ni bu hui si de. Qing..." But Li Wang is silent, his eyes closed. He doesn't move. Behind the pair, the building burns, crimson flames reaching for the sky.

In the room of the apartment he shares with Vitali, Xiang Zhao sleeps on the bed. On his back, blankets pulled up to cover all but his shoulders, his left arm, and his right leg that had, at some point, gotten out from beneath the blankets because of his restless dreaming. His breathing is rough, but he doesn't wake up. His head shifts restlessly from side to side. A quiet whimper can be heard, barely audible. His arm and leg that stick out from beneath the blanket are clad in an inner shirt as well as a pair of light pants, both silk, most likely. It is late late at night, or perhaps early morning. The sky to the east is just starting to lighten. The vast majority remains in darkness.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian hates this dream. Hates it, he does! Some flickering recess of his brain recogizes it even as it starts to unfold within his sleeping brain. He hasn't had this dream since before he'd come to New York City. And he can never stop it, never make it change. It's always the same. Such is the way of prophetic dream that either speak to the past or the future.

Vitali sleeps on the floor next to the bed, rolled up in a polar bear's fur, curled up within it. He pushes a part of the fur aside in his sleep, unaware of even doing so. The brightness, the heat of the fire. He can practically feel it on his face, hear the sound of it crackling in his ears. The dream is immersive, and not for the first time, he feels as though he is a helpless observer. There but unable to do anything.

Except this time... this time, one of the voices is familiar to him. And one fo the people is familiar as well. Almost painfully so. Xiang Zhao. A younger Zhao than the one that he knows, but it is assuredly him. For not the first time, Vitali wishes that there was something that he could do. If he had only been there, he could have doused the fire. He could have saved Li Wang. But he wasn't there. And if he had been, then perhaps Xiang Zhao wouldn't be here with him today. All he can do is watch. It's all he's ever able to do. He can hear the devastation in Zhao's voice and that tells him that Li Wang meant something to him. And the flames burn higher and hotter. There's nothing he can do to break the dream, to come away from it, despite that he's had it before. He's stuck in it until it's played out its last moments.

From moving the fur aside, his chest is half uncovered, one of his arms laying out across the floor. He wears a pair of flannel pants, and a tank top -- it's what he usually wears to bed. But there's a flicker of sweat that's come to his skin, and his dark hair is a tussled and tangled pool beneath his head. Much like Zhao, Vitali's sleep is restless, his head stirring a bit and his breathing uneven.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
In truth, both men are helpless observers and unable to do anything. It's all in the past and nothing to be done now could change anything that had happened then. Despite Zhao wanting to change it all, nothing changes. It's the same dream. The same memory that lives in his heart and mind. Just as it becomes obvious that the man in Zhao's arms in the dream has died, Xiang Zhao's eyes in the real world pop open, wide and unseeing in the moment as he jerks himself up into a sitting position.

His breathing is harsh, panting. His hair, loose at present, slides forward over his shoulders as he bows his head. Zhao brings his hands up to burying his face against them. His breathing remains uneven and labored, sweat beading on his skin, as he tries to shake the last bits of the dream from himself. It's a hard thing to do. This will be the first time Vitali has ever seen him in such a state. He's never, ever this distraught.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It doesn't stop him from wishing that he could do something, though. Ever since the first time the dream had come to him, he'd wished that there was something he could do to change what happened. But the past is the past, and there's nothing that can be done about it other than to learn from it. The dream plays itself out, the same as it has been every time Vitali has seen it, and with the end of it coming, the power of it over Vitali is broken. He wakes up with a quiet groan, and his eyes come open as he exhales an unsteady breath, his dark gaze turning towards the bed. Towards Zhao, at the sounds he hears from the Chinaman.

With nary a thought of himself, Vitali shifts his weight, easily pushing aside the rest of the fur before sitting and then bringing himself to his feet fairly quickly. His skin is sweated from experiencing the dream in the way that he does and he feels too warm still from the fire in it, but he ignores it as best he can. Softly, he eases onto the bed behind Zhao before attempting to slip his arms around him. Offering comfort, support, and just... his presence. "Zhaoshenka," he whispers softly, gently, "are okay, am here." He doesn't know what nightmare had possessed Zhao, but... that there was one had been apparent.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
That's never stopped Xiang Zhao from wishing either. If he even realizes that he's dreaming in the moment. He always realizes after, but.... In the moment, for him, it's totally different. He's living it, not just seeing it as an observer.

Oh yes. There had definitely been a nightmare. Xiang Zhao hasn't moved by the time Vitali comes up behind him. He's tense as the arms slip around him, and trembling, and still breathing hard, but at least the breathing is starting to ease back toward normal. More or less. He doesn't react to Vitali's presence for a few long breaths, then he nods. He doesn't move. Stays where he is. Head bowed, hair slid forward hiding his face which is still held in his hands.

After another few breaths, he moves a little, hands shifting to move up so his fingers are in his hair and the heels of his hands are at either temple. It's not a relaxed posture at all, but hints at a headache of epic proportions.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The tension within Zhao is something that Vitali can feel, but he doesn't move away. He stays where he is, behind Zhao and with his arms lightly around him. His right hand rests at a point that's midway between Zhao's chest and belly, his fingers kept still upon the shirt that Zhao wears. He's trying hard not to cause Zhao any discomfort by the fact that he's in the man's personal space to start with. He adjusts his position if he needs to, when Zhao moves.

His left hand withdraws slightly in order to attempt to reach forward over Zhao's left shoulder to lightly draw his hair back a bit. He likes the feel of Zhao's hair, the silken softness of it. Yet he doesn't allow himself to be distracted by it. "Can I help...? You have headache," Vitali whispers softly, a gentle tone to his voice. Though he can use his magic to provide some relief, if Zhao is willing, he could also make tea for it. And he is, at least, asking for permission, too. It's a challenging change for him to make, but he's trying. "If... want to talk about, will listen, Zhaoshenka. Always here for you," he adds, quietly.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
To be fair to Vitali, the tension was there when he arrived. It wasn't caused by his presence as he came up behind Xiang. Nor was it caused by the arms around him. Though that might still come if, when, he realizes the arms are there. For the moment, though, Xiang Zhao seems to be fine with the closeness.

Though there is a soft sound as his hair is gathered, it doesn't seem to be a protest of any sort. "No.. it... is not a headache," he says. He opens his mouth and takes a deeper breath, something that can be felt by Vitali, as close as he is. Even if Vitali looked with his magic, there's nothing there to heal. "Wo.." He pauses, shakes his head a little bit, and tries gain. "I.. do not know.. dream. Nothing I remember ever dreaming before. It.." He straightens a little bit and shakes his head, as though it's feeling fuzzy or dizzy. Then in a more negative sort of fashion, after. "No. It is gone." Zhao seems to have mostly calmed down, at least, which is likely something of a bonus. Most of the tension had bled away at some point that went unnoticed by Zhao. "I am fine," he says softly.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
At least the tension in Zhao hadn't been caused by him, so that's a small blessing. Once he's drawn Zhao's hair to his back, he lightly slips his fingers along the length of it, a soft touch. Vitali slips his right hand away from Zhao's midsection, and he brings his fingers up to catch that side of his hair as well, to draw it back. There's a worried sort of wrinkle to his brow, the emotion showing in his eyes as well.

"Is... look like headache. Sorries," offer the Siberian in a quiet voice. He doesn't look with his magic. He doesn't do anything with his magic, nor even attempt to pull his focus together to use it. "Dream of badness, is seeming likely. Did not seem kind or good," Vitali says softly, lightly drawing his fingers over Zhao's hair. "Maybe... will stay gone. Can make ward, for dreams... if want," he offers. It's the least that he can do to try to help. "Can make tea, if would like?" he asks. He could use some himself, given the dream that had found him. His wards don't work on that kind of dream. His main concern is Zhao.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
No. The tension was all caused by Zhao's own mind. It has nothing to do with Vitali's presence. He closes his eyes and lowers his hands to rest on his lap. "It is already easing. I... cannot remember what it as about, now. I will not argue to a ward for dreams, or tea. But.. I might argue if you stop what you are doing."

That statement is all but pleading, when one takes into account just how serene he usually is. That would be playing with Xiang Zhao's hair. He is very clearly enjoyig that. His eyes remain closed for the momet.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"Easing good, da," Vitali says softly, a touch of lingering concern to his voice. He tilts his head a touch to one side, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "Will make ward, later in day," he promises, giving a little bit of a nod. "Perhaps is better to not remember, now. Will make tea, da," he adds, sounding a touch less worried than he'd been when he first joined Zhao on the bed.

There's a soft wash of colour that creeps to his cheeks at the last of Zhao's words though, and a quickening of his heartbeat at it, too. "Mmm? Ah... will need to keep touching hair then, da. Is soft, long," Vitali says softly, a slightly shy smile quirking up the corners of his lips. Even had the pleading tone not been in that request, Vitali would have gladly kept running his fingers through and over Zhao's hair. He likes the feel of it! With a soft touch, Vitali gathers up Zhao's hair at the nape of his neck. His fingers deftly separate his braid out, and he softly slips that over Zhao's left shoulder. Lightly, he slips his fingers into Zhao's hair from beneath in order to draw them through the silken lengths. The backs of his hands pass lightly over the shirt that covers Zhao's back. It helps with settling himself, as well. "Am liking to see braid still there," he says softly, a little bit shyly, perhaps a bit sheepish as well.