#// whether or not you knew that was a MASSIVE one of Kumo's triggers or not well.......

[shiroi---kumo]

@knightshonour asked:

It's clear from the way he's writhing in his sleep that all is not well. It seemed as though he was clearly fighting something within the confines of his mind.

A nightmare of which he cannot wake up from, until the mist breaks. A startling sign of the double edged sword that White Cloud's mist entails for Rowan.

(tfw abyss nightmare but can't wake up to Avoid it...)

It's his nightmares made real.

It's Black Wind all over again.

It's everything he's feared and why he calls himself a living weapon. It is the truth of the Demon Swordsman and the monster that lives deep within his lungs. Even his breath his poison. He never wanted to hurt him. He only wanted to help, but how could a monster ever help the living when the only melody he knew how to play was a daunting dirge for the damned.

No longer were his songs a soft sonata of salvation. No his chords have become much more sorrowful in sound. Carefully crafted to captivate while only truly ghastly in nature. This winter toned warrior appeared of the living plane but is actually nothing more than a war-wrought wraith sent to rectify the wrongs of one being that can only be described as a ruinous reaper of souls.

He was a monster and now he's hurt Rowan with his negligence. Thin metal slides over his features a quick as lightning cutting off any chance of more of the Mist seeping from his lungs to make it into the air. The first two fingers on his right hand raise and he's drawing a straight line with them to go far above his head. A burst of gentle wind follows pulling all of the remaining remnants of white from the air and sending it far above to be dispersed elsewhere.

The space around them becomes clear in only moments but that does not mean the spell his Mist casts would break so easily. The effects would not work to continue but it only takes so much for a soul to be down for several hours even if the prince fails to continue to empty his lungs after they fall to slumber.

Small hands are pressing down on a large shoulder. Icy cold skin pushing as the small Cloud shoves the larger man with a decent amount of his strength to shake him.

"Rowan!" He sounds, voice echoing from behind the metal that covers his features. "Rowan! Wake up! Rowan!"

But he would not wake.

Just like Black Wind for all those years.

"ROWAN!"

His voice raises to something much more urgent as his tone grows to something that sounds so unlike his usual chords.

He can only shove him a little harder. He can only try to shake him a little more but in his heart of hearts he knows what's happened. He knows what he's done.

It's Black Wind all over again.

Please don't let it be so long this time.

He would beg the Celestial Mother for her aid if he needed to. He can't bare to have done this to someone else. He's hurt him. He's hurt him and there's nothing he can do about it.

He's not safe. He's not safe. He's not safe.

He just wanted to help but he did not listen to his gut and he did not heed the warning Black Wind taught him for all those years. No matter how many times he begged his Other to wake with a voice full of tears, Black Wind never answered him. Not even once. No matter how much he begged and pleaded and attempted to barter with the man just to get him to open his eyes, Black Wind never ever answered him.... so in the end for all those years... those twelve long years - the prince had been left to fend for himself in Wonderland alone.

Oh he knows nothing about this place and he does not like it one bit. He knows nothing and something tells him that the more he learns the less he'll like it yet.

He can't be alone again. Not again. He can't do this again.

'Black Wind where are you when I need you?'

He mentally begs that man to just appear to him as if summoned by thought as he has so many times before. His hands are woven into snow colored locks while fingers brace down practically digging into his skull. He can't - he can't - he can't - he can't do this again. Rowan is not Unlimited. He will not survive.

He's a weapon and he never should have ever opened his mouth. The offer should have never even left his lips. The only thing that ever left his lips was a vile poison that tainted all around and damned to a slumber they never asked for. He was nothing but a pale death given flesh to be something a little more corporeal.

He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what to do. He can send those around him to slumber but he does not have a magic spell to make them wake. The Mist's effects must wear off on their own or the source of said Mist must... die... and that's something - that's something he cannot do.

So the body is white is pulling himself away from the other, setting close to the dimming fire. Legs bend and fold to pull knees up to the prince's chest as tightly as they can manage. Arms wrap around them and a small face ducks down to press into white clothed knees.

He doesn't know what to do.

'Rowan I'm sorry.'