#Be glad I dont write about A'vi's nightmares more often because I am pretty sure he has a lot of messed up dreams...

[avirael]

Shattered

The sound of a light chuckle brought A’viloh back to to his senses from the brink of sleep.

With heavy eyelids he blinked and realised that he had almost fallen asleep in one of the armchairs in front of the roaring fireplace of the living room of Fortemps Manor.

Beside the fireplace stood Haurchefant with two cups in his hands and continued to laugh as the Miqo’te looked at him with drowsy confusion.

“I am barely gone for five minutes and you already fall asleep? It must have been quite a day, huh?”

Without really being able to recall why he was so exhausted, A’viloh agreed, “It was…”

“Here!”, the Elezen said and pressed one of the warm cups into A’viloh’s hands. “I’ll keep you company for a few more minutes but then you should get some rest. Tomorrow everything will look brighter again.”

“Thank you.”, a honest smile appeared on the Miqo’te’s face. Haurchefants optimism never failed to cheer him up.

“It’s no wonder though that you’ve almost fell asleep. It’s quite comfortable here, isn’t it?”, Haurchefant pondered in regards of the always burning faceplace and richly cushioned furniture. “But your sweater also seems very soft and cozy. I like the color too, it looks very nice on you.”

“Oh! Thank you…”, A’viloh murmured a little embarrassed. He had made this sweater with Tataru’s help from some wool he had bought at Camp Cloudtop. “I made it myself. It’s really nothing special though…”

“Nothing special? I don’t know, I think such a talent is quite admirable! I for my part would not be able to make something like this.”, the Elezen laughed and wasn’t going to let A’viloh belittle his own skills. “Besides, Alphinaud told me you are quite talented at all kinds of crafts, even at forging weapons and armour. Is that really true?”

“Sort of.”, A’viloh admitted. “But Rael and I work together on things most of the time, so it’s not just my skills really…”

“Ah, you two are such a wonderful team! Together you can probaby do anything! Besides, I find such craftsmanship very impressive!”, Haurchefant praised. “Do you think you could forge something for sometime? I would feel very honored! Maybe a new chain mail or a better shield!”

Still a little embarrased A’viloh shrugged. “Sure, why not? I would be happy to…”

The Elezen grinned bright and friendly as he nonchalantly said, “Maybe if you had done so sooner, I would still be alive…”

For a second he was simply confused. Then an uneasy feeling unfurled in A’viloh’s chest as he realised that something was wrong.

Horribly wrong.

Suddenly the cup in Haurchefant’s hands slipped through his fingers. Loudly it crashed to the floor, bursting into myriads of unfixable pieces and spilling the hot liquid across the carpet.

Alarmed A‘viloh looked back up only to find the Elezen raise a hand to his chest and stare down in shock as it was immediately stained red with blood.

Gasping for air Haurchefant sank to his knees and clawed his hands into the fabric of A’viloh’s sweater, trying to steady himself. Helplessly he stared as Haurchefant coughed and gasped, slowly suffocating on his own blood, while little splatters of it landed on the Miqo’te’s face.

Finally his grip loosened and as if in slow motion Haurchefants sank to the floor of the living room at A’viloh’s feet, lying motionless, while the carpet was slowly stained red by a puddle of blood that grew bigger and bigger and bigger.

With dead eyes the Elezen stared up to him and through red lips and teeth he murmured in a ghostly echoing voice, “I wish I never met you. I wish I let you die in that blizzard. I saved your life and offered you all my love. And as reward you killed me. You killed me. You killed me…”

A’viloh woke up screaming.

With a jolt he sat up and buried his face in his hands as he realised it had just been a nightmare. He shivered and looked through the unfamiliar, sparsely furnished inn room. The flames in the fire place had long died and left the room to a cold, dark atmosphere, barely illuminated by the moon shining in through the window.

Right, he remembered. He had fled here after… Oh, if only all of this had just been a nightmare too.

Unsuccessfully he tried to suppress the memory that flared up in his mind again.

After the incident it had taken Rael and Alphinaud quite a bit of persuasion to make A’viloh leave the side of their fallen friend and steer the Miqo’te’s dazed body back to Fortemps Manor. Once there he had barely dared to look Lord Fortemps or Artoirel and Emmanellain in the eyes, yet alone say anything.

And as he had watched Haurchefant’s father crumble and fall to his knees in grief, something had simply shattered inside of A’viloh. Then and there he had whirled around and ran. How insolent his presence there must have been, offering nothing more than empty excuses while their son and brother lay dead because of him.

After aimlessly walking the city until it was dark and his body began to feel numb from the cold, A’viloh had decided to seek refuge at the Forgotten Knight. He would not return to Fortemps Manor, so Haurchefant’s family would not have to tolerate seeing his face ever again. Or maybe he just didn’t want to see their’s.

Gibrillont had looked at the Miqo’te’s distressed appearance with worry but had gladly not asked any questions and just given him a room where he could stay and rest.

Still he shivered, only partially because of the cold, and tried to push the nightmare and the memories away. Tried to convince himself that Haurchefant would never say something like this. Nonetheless he could not help but think that the words had only been the truth.

As the shock about the nightmare finally faded, miserable sobs began to echo through the silence. Like a puppet with their strings cut he fell back onto the mattress and curled up, tightly wrapping his arms around his own body, as he shook violently and cried until there were no tears left.

Maybe at some point he would finally fall asleep again, not that his dreams would grant him much rest.

If only he would simply never wake up again.

If only he had never been born.