#would petal have her first interaction with night and walk away from it really shaken?

[smewduck]

sometimes i feel really stuck on how to characterise characters like Night and other starclan cats who have been dead for so long because i cant really comprehend how exactly that would change you. fading isnt a thing in this universe. youve been dead for centuries. tiny little things in life havent been relevant for that long because youve forgotten what being alive was.

while i dont characterise my starclan as god-like figures the oldest of them certainly aren't just little cats. WHAT ARE THEY??

[deathonyourtongue]

Willow Run | Ch. 4

Summary: On a horse ranch in Texas, life is far simpler than on the streets of Bakubah, but Syverson has a bad habit of taking in strays of all kinds, no matter what demons may be after them. Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC Word Count: 2K Warnings: Death. Yeah, I said it.  A/N: You guys are the absolute best! I apologize in advance for what I’m about to do (my body count is WAY too high at this point, but a niche is a niche I guess, right?) CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 |

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If pain and suffering were library books, Syverson was way past due. 

Despite all the extra work he’d put in, Sy slept fitfully. Sasha's presence had more than once awoken memories of his past and now, without his consciousness to act as a filter, his mind was having a field day as it dragged him down memory lane. He tossed, turned, murmured and finally cried out in sheer terror as the most horrific image of his life came back in full, breath-taking force.

Syverson sat bolt upright as the moment played out, his body covered head to toe in sweat, eyes wide and wild as he reached for a gun that hadn't been there in years; not since the incident with the window.

He couldn't catch his breath, couldn't block out the image, and even though he looked awake, Sy was still very much caught in the grips of his nightmare; the tears streaming silently down his face and his mouth locked open in a hoarse scream were proof enough.

Though Sasha had taken a bit to get comfortable in a new bed, she’d fallen asleep without much issue once she settled. After only about two hours’ worth of sleep, Sy’s scream jolted her awake, startling her badly until her mind was able to make sense of what was happening. Wearing only the t-shirt she’d grabbed from his laundry and not bothering to put on the shorts, Sasha dashed across the hall, opening the door to find Syverson awake, but not at all present.

She’d never seen a man look so terrified in all her life, and while most would find it emasculating to be so scared, Sasha knew better. This was no ordinary fear; this was a haunting, one that had probably been with him for years. Her heart broke for him as she approached slowly, seeing the tears pouring from his blue eyes. 

“Sy, sweetheart. Can you hear me? You’re having a nightmare, babe. Wake up.” 

Being careful about where she stood, Sasha slowly reached out and smoothed a hand over Sy’s curls, willing that her touch would bring him back to reality. 

Her voice and touch, so calm and soft in the midst of all the violence and screaming in his mind, snapped Syverson out of his nightmare and he took a gasping breath, looking and seeing her as if for the first time. Shaking his head to clear it, Syverson quickly wiped his eyes and tried for a smile to assure her he was okay.

"Hey, sorry. Did I wake you? I'm really sorry," he whispered, sniffling as he opened his bedside drawer and grabbed the black leg brace he hadn’t needed in a few weeks. Syverson's hands shook violently as he strapped the appliance around his leg, everything in his posture screaming of fear. He needed his pills, but they were down the hall and that meant attempting to walk. Syverson felt like kicking himself for being so stupid; the first time he had company in ages and he forgot to prepare the most basic of necessities in order to keep the night quiet for them.

"You should go back to bed, mama. Get some rest. I'll be fine, just need to grab a glass of water, then I'm back to sleep," he added, his eyes pleading with her to accept the bold-faced lie; it was the only area of his life that Syverson ever hid from anyone and he was certain he'd be able to hide it from her as well.

Sasha didn’t wait for Sy to continue telling his version of the truth and instead grabbed his water glass and made her way to the upstairs bathroom, filling it up with ice-cold water straight from the tap. Despite feeling like she was overstepping her bounds, she searched through the medicine cabinet until she found a prescription bottle with a valid date and Sy’s name on it. Relieved that it was Tramadol and not something stronger, Sasha returned and handed both over to Sy, her eyes holding the same sadness his had earlier in the day. 

“You need anything else?” She asked, cupping his face with her hand and  trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. Sasha felt like a chump for opening up to him about her past when it was clear he was unwilling to do the same and felt the need to hide so bad that he would lie about it just to pretend all was okay. 

Her hand on his face caused a hitch in his breath, Syverson nearly losing his composure once again at the gentility of her touch. He fought tooth and nail not to lean into it, rest his head on her palm and just let go as she had earlier; he was a man, and a soldier to boot. Soldiers weren't supposed to cry and they certainly weren't supposed to talk about how they felt or what they'd seen and done in far away countries.

Sitting there with Sasha, Syverson felt like letting it all spill out, laying his soul bare, and facing the consequences head on. His brain got the best of him however, and he kept mum. No use in terrifying the poor girl; she'd done nothing to deserve hearing about the atrocities he'd witnessed and done overseas.

"N-no, you just go on back to bed. No use in stayin' awake on my account," he murmured, the words sounding almost like a mantra; in fact, he had said them on more than one occasion to his own family. They'd all just looked at him with sad eyes, shaken their heads, and left the room. Syverson wasn't sure, but it didn't seem like Sasha would be so easy to shoo off.

His further distancing only opened the fresh wound in Sasha’s heart a little further, making her feel miniscule and stupid for being as candid as she had. It was an age-old double standard, one she’d thought would bypass her interactions with Sy, given how open he’d been all day. Whatever it was that plagued him, the walls he’d built to protect himself were high and steadfast. Sighing, she stood, raking a hand through her hair as she met his gaze.

“If we’re going to pretend that this never happened, that you don’t look like you’ve seen a ghost, then fine. But don’t expect me to open up about anything else in my life, if you’re unwilling to do the same. I’m not a little girl, Sy. I can handle whatever it is you seem so keen to hide away from the world.” 

Turning on her heel, Sasha gripped her stomach, ignoring her baby’s kicking as she began to make her way back to bed, wishing Sy wasn’t so stubborn.

It was the same old song over again and frankly, Syverson was tired of being the one to press play. His face crumpled and he let out a sob without being able to hold it back. When he spoke, his voice came out tinny and weak, but the desperation in it was as clear as the word was simple.

"Sasha!"

Syverson hoped it was enough, hoped she'd turn back and let him apologize, let him give in a little and let go the way she had. It wasn't easy for him to relinquish the control he usually kept so tightly bound on the subject, but he'd seen how his pushing had hurt her and Syverson didn't want to be the reason she walked out the door in the morning, never to come back.

She’d never heard her name called with such need, such distress before, and it stopped Sasha in her tracks. Born with a touch of a stubborn streak herself, Sasha had only planned on standing in the doorway to hear him out, but one look at Syverson’s tear-strewn face, the pleading in his eyes, and she moved as though being pulled by a magnet, sitting at his side in a matter of moments, all thought of being bull-headed forgotten. 

Syverson's tears subsided as Sasha sat down, his eyes red-rimmed and still filled with fear as he took her hand and held it in both of his.

"I'm sorry. I'm not used to havin' people around, especially for this crap. It's not somethin' I like talkin' about and people don't like hearin' it, so I was tryin' to spare ya. Didn't mean to push you away, sweetheart," he sniffled, his thumbs rubbing circles over her knuckles before he kissed them gently.

“Were you dreaming about whatever happened that sent you to the VA? I saw the album downstairs,” Sasha confessed, her free hand stroking through his curls, her face dipping to catch his gaze as Sy lowered his head, shaking it.

“Nah, that was just an IED that I had the misfortune of drivin’ over. It’s why I still have a prescription and a rod in my leg,” he answered, Sy clearing his throat before shaking his head once more, clearing the persistent whispers from his mind that told him to shut up and not talk about it any further.

“My nightmares are only ever about one thing. One little girl, actually. Her name was Zakiya. She was the sweetest lil’ thing. Big bright eyes, so expressive, she just put a smile on yer face immediately.” 

Sitting back against his headboard, Sy held Sasha’s hand a little firmer, his own trembling, although whether from pain or anguish, Sasha couldn’t be sure. 

“We used to drive through her village every time we left the wire. Back then, we always carried candy bars and extra MREs with us, mostly for the kids, but for people in need too. She’d come running every time she saw us comin’ through, like we were the ice cream man or somethin’. Anyhow, she took a shine to me. Would always ask for me to hold her, ‘cause I was taller than anyone in the village and she liked seeing out over the horizon.” 

Sy blew out a breath, his body beginning to rock back and forth as tears shimmered in his eyes once more. Sasha’s concern grew, her other hand covering the one already gripped in her palm. 

“We didn’t speak a lick ‘a each other's languages, but we somehow made it work. She always had a smile and a big ol’ hug for my neck. She wouldn’t let go until it was time for us to move along and even then, she stayed behind wavin’ like it was her favorite thing to do. She couldn’t ‘a been more than five or six.

“One day, we get there and she’s not there, waitin’. Instead, she’s in her father’s arms. He was a village elder ‘a some sort, and for whatever reason, had got it in his head that his wife and Zakiya had both dishonored him by being nice to us. Just for being nice, friendly...normal. By the time we got there, he’d already killed his wife...But he was waitin’ for us to show up before he killed Zakiya.” 

Sasha’s own heart clenched, knowing what was coming would be horror on a level she never hoped to experience first-hand, her sympathy and respect for Syverson going up exponentially as she steeled herself for the end of his worst nightmare. 

Sy kept his eyes on the mattress, his free hand picking at a loose thread in the bedding, terrified that after he told her everything, Sasha would never see him as the same man again. 

“I got on my knees for that man. Took off my helmet, my plates, everything. Told him to take me instead of her. I begged like the world was endin’ and I needed one more day. Our poor interpreter could barely keep up with me, I was talkin’ so fast.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Syverson let out a noise akin to a dying animal, folding himself in half for a moment before taking several rattling, deep breaths. 

“You know that famous shot of Jackie trying to catch Kennedy’s brain? He dropped her like a fuckin’ sack ‘a potatoes after he blew her head open, and all I could do was h-hold-” 

As a longing wail loosed itself from his lungs, Sy felt himself wrapped up in the fiercest hug he’d ever received. Sasha cupped the back of his head as her own tears slipped down her cheeks, unable to fathom how Sy had managed to go about his life with that sort of weight in his heart; she’d known men who’d taken their own lives for less.

“I’m so sorry, Sy,” Sasha whispered into his curls, her heart breaking at the way Syverson clung to her as though he were drowning. In a way, he was, Sasha wishing there was more she could do to help ease his suffering, though she wasn’t sure if anyone had ever even gotten this far with him before. 

“What happened to the elder?” She asked as she heard his breathing calm some. 

“I emptied a mag into his face.” Sy said resolutely, Sasha hearing no remorse in his voice, though she couldn’t blame him, given the circumstances. 

“No one in the village ever complained, not even his older kids. Think they were all afraid of him. We did them a favor. You don’t kill kids. Especially babies. You give ‘em kindness, compassion, love. That’s it. End of story. You hurt a child, you murder a child in cold blood like that? I put you in the ground, plain and simple.”

She held onto him, stroking his broad back, carding her fingers through his hair, letting him take the pain he’d held onto for so long and finally let some of it go. Though she knew he’d never truly recover from that day, Sasha hoped that finally talking about it to someone who wouldn’t judge or pity him, would make a small difference. 

His breathing slowed and Sasha gave him another squeeze, realizing something she hoped would help ease his pain further.

“For what it’s worth, Sy? If nothing else, you brightened that little girl’s day each time you saw her. You gave her a smile just like she gave you one. You were with her at the end and that’s what counts. She didn’t die alone. In a perfect world, she wouldn’t have died at all, but in the horror that was her final moments, she knew you were there. She knew.”