Rock Me to Sleep [Sivan]

[Rivin]

20th Ash, 122

The walls were close, much to close to be real and yet, still the Lysanrin, younger in his body than he thought he was as he tried to stay up right and walk despite the all encompassing dread that caused his legs to shake with each attempted step. There were men on either side of him, gripping his arms, but they shifted, warping between dozens of shapes, mismatched limbs and no faces. Never any faces.

He did not resist, could not resist, for there was no point to it. The Doctor had summoned him and he would be brought forth, the same as any other object that belonged to an owner.

Lips drained of blood, the palest of the shades that could called 'blue' made the form that lay, sleeping in one rented hovel among thousands, made the sleeping youth look like he was suffocated; devoid of breath.

The dream that clutched him, held him like a mother strangling her child with a lullaby, wrapped him ever deeper.

Inside it's embrace he knew that he had transgressed, though however hard he tried to remember how, the razor blades that filled his mind always managed to slide neatly over the passageways of thought, cuting him off from the knowledge. How could he defend himself if he didn't remember why he was to be punished?

Panic swirled around him, visible like fog, like smoke and his chest heaved trying to pull air in and out as though he were suffocating in truth. The boy he was, in the dream space, small and thin, knew there was no chance of being given reprieve, even if he had been able to recall his sin and beg forgiveness.

He would have begged, face pressed to the floor, for however long was needed if he thought there was a chance, but there had never been one.

The infinite hallway, always straight ahead, without turns or doorways ended suddenly as the door that had never been there and always loomed before him. It sucked him inside, shifting the scene till the men who had held him were now a step behind, between him and the door, and before him...

Ilex. The Doctor.

The human, impossibly tall, looked down on him with a sad smile. He had a face, the only face. There were words, but Rivin could not understand them. The tone, disappointed and reproving with only the mildest tinge of anger licking at it's edges, was enough.

Running would only prolong the suffering, trying to hide, trying to argue or plead, all of it would only make what was coming worse. When the words stopped The Doctor nodded to the two looming figures and they advanced. The boy squeezed his eyes shut and waited for The Red to come rushing up from inside him, to take him over and get him away.

It didn't come. It never did in his dreams.

The first fist, the side of his rib cage crashed down over him and he screamed.

Waking up never felt like waking, the dreams held on, refusing to release his mind even when his eyes opened and he shot up, panicked. His mind would remain in a liminal space between being truly awake and truly asleep until the whole awful story was played out. Even then he would be in a daze for the rest of the day, walking like a ghost.

Throwing off the blankets in the bed that was not his he flinched as blow after blow bruised and tore as his body. Without thought he fled and knew not where until, hours later, but still before dawn, the other reality finally began to fade. He was curled as tightly as he could manage, somewhere underground. Even without knowing something about the place, the scent, or the feel, or the spirits his rune could sense told him that he was safe.

Safe from reality. Rivin would never be safe from the dreams. His eyes stared out into the darkness, face expressionless as the boy in his brain collapsed, too damaged and exhausted even to weep.

[Sivan]

Sivan was up at dawn. His home was secure now—spirits, enchantments, locks. But the growing tower let Rivin in, even in the wee hours before dawn, the door locking behind him and the warm darkness of the cellar enveloping him.

Muzzy-headed, Sivan padded into the kitchen for the dance with his little friends.

Your student is downstairs, Exael informed him.

"Mm."

The trapdoor was open, so he descended, hands full with two mugs of tea, an apple caught between his teeth. His way was lit by will o' wisps, spiritual fireflies always curious about what caught the attention of the master of the house. Sivan regarded the bundle of Rivin in the corner, and walked over to him. He set the mugs of tea down where a sudden flailing wouldn't overturn them, and then eased down to sit with his back to the wall, wrapping his short, loose robe for modesty's sake. His hand rested gently on Rivin's sweaty curls. When it seemed he wouldn't react violently, Sivan gently maneuvered under him so his lap was a pillow, then took hold of his apple with one hand so he could chew on his long-delayed bite.

His other hand gently stroked his student's shoulder, easing him back into waking.

If he needed more sleep, well, Sivan would make him comfortable before going about his day. Otherwise, he would see if there was anything he could do to help.

A fragment of some half-remembered lullaby came to mind and he hummed it softly, not really sure what to do in this situation other than try to make Rivin feel safe so he could unclench from whatever trauma haunted his nocturnal dreaming. He even felt Wolf turn and settle within, giving him the impression that he ought to guard and succor those under his care. He supposed that included Rivin even if his friend was much more prickly and standoffish than Destyn and Torin.

[Rivin]

Rivin did not noticed, at first, when the elf he called 'friend' entered the basement. Things came to him slowly, one at a time.

Though his eyes had been open since he'd arrived the whole body belief that he was locked securely in his cell in the house where he'd been born had blocked out anything that might convince him otherwise while all was quiet. But at the advent of the sounds of bare feet making their way toward him the scales of dream darkness fell from his eyes and he could see. It was the basement, Sivan's basement where he had hidden the few times he had been spending time in the tower when someone else who it recognized had arrived unexpectedly and been allowed entry.

And Sivan was close, touching him. For a tight-rope warble moment his instincts considered flinching away but the fact that there was no threat was so obvious it was almost perfunctory, habit. Rivin had always thought he did not like being touched, but, when Sivan had began gentling him into their friendship with small brushes of affection, or even accident, it had reminded the Lysanrin, in some way that was both stark and hazy, that he and his mother had used to move around each other similarly. Perhaps his mind had thought of his mother as a part of himself, or maybe no one else had ever touched him except in violence or to study him.

When the touch turned quickly into a light tugging he allowed himself to be pulled, if not out of his tight ball, at least to be laying in it. His head came to rest on a thigh only partly covered by the thin fabric of a robe he was familiar with. Comforting scents began to filter in to him, scents of tea and sleep warmed skin, of Sivan and the scent-not-scent of benign spirits.

When the lullaby washed over him, in his emotional, mentally weakened state it crumbled right through the walls that kept back memories of his mother that would only hurt him and, in a moment, he was crying softly. He was too tired to cry hard and, despite the fact that his body was whole, it felt very like the first time he'd been beaten and returned to his cell. Too weak to even sob properly he'd laid with his head on his mother's lap during his recovery and cried quietly when it hurt too much.

After a few minutes of wordless tears he said, voice cracking,

"I wish I were back in my cell... it was safe there."

The admission, to himself more than to Sivan, that the safest he'd ever been had been in the darkness of captivity caused him to cry harder, to curl tighter, but only for a minute before he settled back into the near-limp half cuddle.

[Sivan]

Sivan didn't have a glib response on hand for that. Rivin had shared some of his story with him, but it was a ragged skeleton of a thing, missing detail and connective tissue. So he just continued to hum, occasionally voicing the lyrics he remembered. His wasn't a trained voice, but it was gentle and sure, as was his hand. Eventually, though, he had words to share.

"You are safe down here," he assured him. "And upstairs. And in the garden. There are wards and spirits, well-armed neighbors, artefacts and such."

There was a sense of disquiet from Exael; Sivan knew that the demon within Rivin was a danger he couldn't entirely protect him from, but Rivin was safer with him than without him in that regard as well.

"But when you are feeling... insecure... you may sleep down here. Or upstairs. Or in the garden. My home is a sanctuary for you." He paused. "I brought an extra mug of tea for you. If you want it. Or we can just sit and I'll hum for you until you are ready to face the world again."

Rivin was certainly coming along, getting a better understanding for how to bind spirits and protect himself in his dealings with them. The demon already had its hooks in, but there were still rules it had to abide by, rules Rivin could use to his advantage. But there were other things that weren't coming along, or not so quickly as his studies. The Lysanrin was a quick student, seeing magic as a scientific study. Sivan could understand that with his background in world magics.

He didn't know how to heal the man's heart, though.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

[Rivin]

Sivan's song, though it was nothing like Rivin's mother's song, took him back to the earliest of his memories, before the tests, before fear. His cramped form slowly, painfully, began to relax and after a time he was limp as a wrung out rag, trembling slightly, and just as damp from his own sweat. He likely did not smell very well but it was beyond his scope at the moment.

When his mind had cleared enough that the memories came out clear, without the contamination of his dreams he spoke quietly of the place he had been born. It was an idea, more than a place, and the memories came with no sight, only to be described in his other senses. Perhaps it was the reason why he'd never relied on the cardinal sense as much as those born into light all seemed to.

He spoke of warmth and comfort, of knowing no pain, no fear, no hunger, only the constant, all encompassing love and attention from his mother and the vaguest idea that something existed outside the tiny world of their cell. That it even was a cell had taken him a long time to realize, to be able to even understand what that concept meant. He knew, in the most logical parts of himself, that others would view his beginning as a form of abuse, would expect him to resent it. This he could not bring himself to do, and as his words wound down after what must have been near to an hour, he was conscious enough to wonder if Sivan would think of it that way.

He throat was dry, between the sweating, the waking night without drink and then speaking, so he reached out without opening his eyes and pawed for where he'd heard the cup being set down. He found it without tipping it over and drew it close to sip at. It was lukewarm now, but that suited him, if he would not have wanted to wait if it had been too hot to imbibe.

The part of his mind that had not been concentrated on the stories he'd been telling had been considering Sivan's question, which was an offer. After he had emptied the tea mug down to dregs he lay his head back down, accepting that it now felt mildly too intimate and not caring, he said,

"If I could, perhaps stay here, and..." He closed his eyes tighter, wondering what sort of judgement what he needed would cost him, "If you could get a lock for the door and, perhaps, sometimes, lock me in? When it is bad, as it was this night, it would help to calm me. The dark and the..."

This hesitation was not from shame but because he was not sure how to explain. The language complicated things but he tried,

"Lack of freedom. I could not get out, and there is a freedom in that in itself, but also no one could get in, except you."

[Sivan]

The elf just listened, finishing his own tea and apple, leaving the tiniest remains of the core in his mug to compost later. Perhaps it was natural, but he couldn't help but compare Rivin's story with his own childhood and it was clear that even those his own was difficult, it wasn't nearly so bad as it could have been. His lap and his affections weren't spurned, so he continued to soothe as best he was able. When Rivin made his request, Sivan had to consider for a moment—not because he was disinclined to help, but because he wanted to wrap his mind around the entirety of this idea.

"I am glad your mother was able to give you a sense of safety and security and love," he began. He remembered the same sort of thing from his own early childhood, more impressions than memories, but still a foundation that was there whether or not he had perfect recall of it.

Even Exael was thoughtfully reconsidering his views of Rivin given this new information. He still thought Rivin was dangerous, but more knowledge could lead to more understanding, and a spirit of wisdom ought to know that it could better gauge risk the more it knew and understood rather than just destroying anything touched by the infernal.

"I'll have a lock on the trap door within a couple of days."

Torin would help him with that, and if they couldn't figure out how to install it, he still had some contacts from when he had been forced to seek help with repairs after the break-in.

"I'll learn to recognize when you need to be locked up in order to feel safe."

He leaned down and kissed Rivin gently on the temple; it was more a reaction to need than something he thought out ahead of time, but as he straighened and leaned back against the wall, he hoped it would be taken in the spirit in which it was given.

[Rivin]

Rivin was beginning to transition from the paranoid, adrenaline fueled wakefulness to a relaxed exhaustion. He yawned, expansively stretching his body out until it shook with the release of so much tension, coming out of it just in time to hear what Sivan was offering him. Nodding against the thigh under him felt almost like he was nuzzling at it and this too felt good.

"I thank you." He replied, sounding odd in the combination of his formal way of speaking and the sleepy murmur of his voice. "I will try and just tell you, or get a spirit to lock the mechanism when I need it. If you find it locked and you did not lock it yourself, then I am down here."

As tired as he was his mind turned to thoughts of a bed, warm and soft, in the corner of the empty space he had taken up when he'd first entered in his panicked state. Perhaps a little table with a book or two for when he just wanted to relax in the safety of a small, locked space. More simple domestic ideas formed in his head until the idea of the basement was quite cozy and, for the first time, an idea of settling came to rest inside his chest. When he felt soft lips gently brush his temple the sense of 'home' settled soft; like falling leaves. It was enough that he felt brave enough to ask,

"I could, perhaps, keep a few things down here? I would pay for the renting of the space and I would still keep a room elsewhere, for when you wanted the privacy."

The elf had at least two lovers that Rivin was aware of and he was not interested in overhearing or viewing his liaisons, accidentally or on purpose. While he knew that these connections were fully consenting on all sides the idea of two bodies locked together in a wet, sucking, writhing mess made his stomach clench up too tight to even really be called nausea. The fact that both partners in each pairing were males did make it less uncomfortable in his head, and his momentary return to tension left him quickly.

[Sivan]

"You needn't pay," Sivan assured him. "You pay for lessons since you already have too much skill to be an apprentice, but you are also my friend and you are welcome in my home. The earth elementals have neardly cleared enough space below for another level, using it to build up. When it is complete, perhaps I will make the entire bottom floor a space set aside for your voluntary incarcerations."

Sivan smiled strangely.

"Perhaps you could just live down there."

Rivin had always been cagey, but he broached the idea because he believed it was a good one. Eventually, his friend might feel comfortable enough to live down there, safe from whatever and whomever stalked Karnor looking for him. The spirits were constantly making more room in his home, and even the outdoor space had grown thanks to Laurevere's bequest. Sivan spent enough time nextdoor training with Laurevere, at the forge or in Torin's home, and elsewhere that Rivin needn't feel claustrophobic either.

"Someday, I won't have anything left to teach you about spirits, about meditating, about defending yourself. I hope that won't be the day I never see you again." He smiled again, strangely again, but it didn't bode ill; Sivan was merely a strange sort. But he was a good sort, too. He hadn't moved such that Rivin felt he had to pretend to be all right yet. Recovering from emotional things took time, in the long run and in the short run. Perhaps his sanctuary of a home would prove to be such for corporeal people as much as incorporeal spirits.

Those spirits were busy in the kitchen just now, preparing more hot water for tea should the bodied people ascend for something more to eat and drink.

[Rivin]

The idea of living anywhere because he was wanted there hadn't occurred to him.

"I should maintain a place somewhere else, to ensure no one thinks to look for me here but..."

He could feel his own horns, so he often forgot that no one else could see them anymore, even if they had the ability to sense magic, only very powerful mages would be able to tell he was enchanted. The magus, Aurin, that he had somehow fallen into working for was as powerful with his illusions as Rivin believed it was possible to be. His knowledge was still majorly skewed towards what he had learned from books, but he was beginning to at least be able to consciously sense power levels through his non-runic magical ability. Sivan was powerful too, as was his friend the runesmith, that Rivin had spied on to get a sense of him as a person.

It made him wonder, was it a coincidence, meeting Sivan which led to this Torin, and Aurin also, accidentally? Or was he somehow drawn by his maternal birthright to powerful magic? The latter made more sense than the former but he knew from his studies in nature and probability that coincidence was sometimes the actual explanation for things that seemed to be a pattern.

"I would like to be here, often, but not all the time." Being able to be locked in was one kind of safety, one kind of freedom, but being able to go whenever the urge struck him, to go anywhere he wanted was another. The concept still terrified him some, but at least the reality was beginning to feel normal after near to a year.

"A bed and the things I actually care about down here would be ideal." As tired as he was, he was fully awake at last and his formal speech patterns were taking back over. "If you will not let me also pay for some of your rent, I would like to at least help with things that are consumed."

Drinking alcohol in more than single doses still felt dangerous, but he was finding a few kinds that he enjoyed the flavor of, and finding what his own tastes in food were now that the options were near to infinite was an adventure all on its own. It still felt very good to be resting on the elf's lap, so he scooted even a little closer, till he was laying over it more, nuzzling his head like a cat before glancing up and saying,

"I saw that you have obtained items for making alcohol from your honey. I understand this process, though I haven't ever done it, in person the chemistry is fairly simple. We could make more than just mead, if you wanted, there are purer alcohols that can also be made from honey if you have an interest in such, I would be pleased to help."

It sounded more like he wanted to do the chemistry and the product would be secondary to his goals, but that didn't have to be a bad thing if the product was good.

[Sivan]

"All right, then," he said, his hand still stroking Rivin's hair. He could feel an invisible horn against his wrist. "It is settled. We will fix up a place for you on the lowest floor, and we can talk later about what you would like best. I can give Geb more direction that way. But I trust you to come and go as you please, to not bring danger into my home. The spirits will let you in and out."

Sivan got the sense that Rivin might prefer something like a closet, room for a bed and some shelving above it, but where he could feel the walls around him. To some that might feel claustrophobic, but he guessed Rivin might find it more comforting. They would discuss it in the future.

"Oh, yes. I have made some mead with the honey the bees don't eat themselves. I would be happy to learn more... anything you know would be helpful. Otherwise, I will be learning by trial and error, and tips from locals. I was also considering doing a little herbal alchemy to make them... hm... medicinal as well as intoxicating. To prevent hangover, but also to improve health in general. Purer spirits are perfect for tinctures and such. I suppose you could teach me a bit of chemistry and I could teach you a bit of alchemy, and perhaps we might enjoy ourselves in the process. Oh, I have a juniper bush on Laurevere's side of the moon gate... I was thinking the berries could be used to make gin. I have plenty of herbs now, though I don't mind foraging from time to time. It's nice to get out of the city. Especially now..."

He made a mock wolf howl. Rivin had been there; he knew.