Jade Fern Grove [m] and the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we love

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: implied sexual assault

for @Alamar

dreams are never a light-hearted affair for the boy; either his sleep is blank and blissful, or plagued by images of blood and pain and shame, fitful. this time it's the latter, one of the rare occasions when it worsens beyond the torment he already deals with. shadow-strangers surrounding him, the air metallic; as he looks closer, he finds they all have the same face. the same expression. the same dark, threatening eyes. he screams, silent in his head. silent. why is it so quiet?
somewhere far away, in the land of the living, a delicate boy thrashes on the ground, fighting an invisible tormentor, shrieking — nonoNOSTOP — get off, get off, GETOFFME—
in his mind, he's frozen, breathless, helpless. teeth on his spine. weight on his back. it hurts, oh god, it hurts. why is it so, so quiet?

he is already awake, drifting on and off yet never quite finding the slumber his body craves for. instead of focusing on the voice in his head, alamar concentrations on the storm brewing, the soft sound of rain falling upon the canopy they’re covered by. few droplets reach them, but those that do send a shiver up the petite canine’s spine.
thunder rumbles softly in the sky above, yet the loud claps are infrequent, never growing above a rare jolt—frightful as they often are, alamar finds it soothing. it keeps his mind from wandering, until sudden rustling causes him to lift his head. the screaming comes next.
jaime? he calls out, getting his feet, uncaring how his back brushes across the low lying branches and shakes it, letting loose a flurry of cold droplets. jaime— alamar doesn’t know what to do, he’s often plagued by nightmares himself, but being in these shoes? the torment he screams makes him hesitant to reach out.
jaime, shh, it’s just me. there’s no one else here… no one can hurt you.

it isn't alamar's voice that rouses him, but the cold spray of droplets across the sylph's thin pelt. he sits straight up, eyes wide and sightless, breathing hard. for a few moments he's silent, staring at something only he can see. then consciousness creeps in fully, and the tension fades slightly from his body. he blinks several times, realizing slowly where he is and what just happened. nausea twists painfully in his stomach, and his gaze focuses on alamar. i-i'm sorry... he tries to calm his breathing, ears flattening guiltily. he hates when this happens.

jaime awakes, the tumbling ceasing slowly—eyes agape wide and the sudden sit up startles even alamar, who backs a step to give him space. ears twitch softly, swerving back along his skull. don’t. his voice comes out more stern than he means it, it ought to be soft, but there is nothing for jaime to apologize for. this is not his fault. hesitantly, alamar reaches forward, attempting to press his forehead to the smaller’s cheek. though he would halt the advancement immediately if he saw any flinches.

the sternness cuts a little — but he knows it's meant kindly, so it fades after a moment, softened further by the touch. he closes his eyes, trying to avoid thinking about his dream. the memory of it is leaking in now, brief broken flashes of recollection. he leans his cheek into alamar's forehead slightly. it takes him a few moments to find his voice again; when he does it's small and shaky. can... we take a walk?

the touch is welcomed, and alamar keeps leaned there, bright blue eyes closing—simply trying to allow jaime to feel a comforting touch that wouldn’t ever harm him. the request takes him a beat, and he feels wrong to reject it, but his head shakes; it’s storming.

he doesn't expect the rejection. it makes sense, of course; the sounds of the storm register distantly after a few beats, and he remembers that his habit of ignoring such weather isn't shared by everyone. likely for the best. but it hurts. it's such a little thing, but it stings just enough to be the last straw — just enough to break him. okay, the tears start then, sliding down his cheeks no matter how hard he tries to keep them from falling past tightly-closed eyelids.

it must be why he found jaime often ill, or on odd occasions found him strolling in the rain, soaked to the bone. back then, alamar chose to ignore. now he intervenes, but at the cost of a fissure. a quake that starts slight, but then, it grows and the quiet acceptance that leads to tears pulls alamar's heart strings. he keeps pressed close, and brushes the tears that fall.