Hushed Willows Sacrifice, he just wants to help; holds the world like a baby

Hoping for a @Hypnos set before Rev goes into heat!

Strange and fatigued as she felt, Reverie still found it in herself to feel concern for Hearthwood's newest addition. Hypnos had come to them disoriented, struggling against his own sense of reality. She brought chamomile with her as she sought him out, passing Fisherman's Keep to pick through the snowy meadow near the heart of their territory.

But she wasn't quite sure where he could be found. Reverie sniffed around, tail swishing at her hocks as she searched. Surely he would be awake by now, she thought, glancing at the early afternoon sun peering through the clouds above. Well, she hoped.

He saw her moving through a thicket, radiant as the dawn, and causing the world to bloom around her every touch. Dahlias lifted as vines from her stepped trail. The willows sighed and danced around her, singed if they came too close. The glow of Reverie grew the longer Hypnos watched her.

When she bowed her head (he thought it was to speak to the green, not realizing she was searching for him), he crept from his hiding place and found a perch beside her, silently, and like the willow trees he shied from her light, her flame. His eyes were glassy.

She'd thought that she might find him within the meadow, but it was among the willows that Hypnos found her instead. She glanced up and he was simply there; quiet, shying from her as if from tendrils of flame. Reverie set the chamomile down and offered a tentative smile.

I brought this for you. I thought it might help you sleep, She explained softly. She'd noticed his struggles; how could she not? Reverie gently pushed the chamomile toward him, gaze flitting over the glassy eyes and skittish demeanor.

I um, I see things sometimes too. Things that aren't real. And I get nightmares, She explained haltingly after a moment. It gets better, with time - and the right kind of support. Her thoughts went briefly to Boone, who had become her guiding light; the only thing that tethered her to reality at times. She didn't know if she could be that for Hypnos. But she could try.

When she opened her mouth to speak, inside of her there was blackness. The whites of her eyes, her nostrils, her throat, seemed to radiate with it; or maybe it was the opposite, and the rest of her burned so brightly that the core of her was shrouded in shadow? He watched her for a moment longer and slowly closed his eyes, hearing her words, focusing on them instead of the visual. He squeezed his eyes shut and held a pinched expression until she spoke of nightmares, and after that was squinting.

Hypnos looked to the tea. Sleep is... worse, sometimes. I don't know if they're nightmares or not. Feels like... Everything is everything. And nothing. He didn't mean to sound so cryptic or confusing! The words tumbled from him. He took a sip of the tea, barely tasting the bitter notes; it was herbal and familiar, though. Something he'd tried before.

He sat with his tea and appeared ready to turn to stone, like some hunched gargoyle. You're on... f-fire, right now. It'll draw more people here to Hearthwood; they're like moths.

She blinked. On fire. Hadn't she heard that somewhere before?

I am the sun,

Countless stars glittering through the open ceiling of a vast, dark cave. The acrid scent of poison, the stinging taste of it on her tongue. Blood. Fire. Small gods small gods small gods —

and you will burn with me.

Reverie blinked again and took in a slow breath. They're like moths. Then they'll all burn, Scarcely more than a whisper. She shook her head slightly as if to clear her thoughts, but her eyes were beginning to glaze over as they met his. What do you know about small gods, Hypnos?

Everyone burned eventually. Bodies were only tinder waiting for a spark; he knew this, he had seen it — was plagued now by visions of the world burning in perpetuity.

My mother spoke of gods sometimes. They were a varied bunch. The daedra were always important to Maegi and Hypnos had tried to keep them in his mind, his heart; but he had been very young when the Hollow was gutted, and the family splintered.

He was looking at Reverie as she shined, his eyes traveling to follow licks of flame that flickered from her. Are they friends of yours? The little gods.

His mother. Reverie perked up a little, but her ears flattened when he asked if the small gods were her friends. She shook her head.

We don't get along, no, She murmured with a hint of a bitter smile. They tried to take my daughter, once. What did your mother tell you about gods? This talk of gods was something she hadn't dared broach since Lestan; since John had come here and spoken to her of the Holy Spirit. Boone had made it clear that there was no room for religion in the home they'd made. And she didn't mind it, not really, but she couldn't quite shake the belief either.

There were gods out there. She knew that. But her husband was the only religion she needed.