holyknights | ♞ II. written & action.

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♞ II. written & action.

[Like many others, the recent experiment had caused Elliot Nightray some grief. Unlike everyone else, though, Elliot wasn't worried about his "family" situation now that things were over with. Something else has been worrying him instead. Namely...]

Everyone affected by that experiment had dreams last week, right? Did anyone dream of things that didn't happen? Or things that couldn't have happened?

[Unfortunately, there isn't much to do since it's raining, so housemates can find Elliot sitting near the living room window, reading. It doesn't look like he's enjoying it, though. Something's really bothering him about those dreams.]

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The people are dead. There's blood everywhere—on my hands, on my sword...

[Doesn't this sound familiar?]

[Are you rehashing a script from somewhere, young master Nightray.]

Except that they gave faces to them this time.

And there's no doubt about it. I'm the one who... [Even if it's 'just' a dream, he lowers his voice. It wasn't something he wanted to talk about with anyone else if they overheard him.] I'm the one who killed them.

You dreamt it, Elliot. [His voice rises slightly, sharp. The idea of it, since Elliot mentioned it that day, was abhorrent to him. For Elliot to even have had a hand in killing the people closest to him- that wasn't Elliot. It wasn't him at all.]

[...oh. His fingers curl around the material of his own trousers and he inhales.

Nnrgh.]

I'm sorry. But...why is it familiar?

[He shakes his head a little, dismissing the apology. It wasn't like he was any more ready to accept what he had dreamed about.]

Wherever it's happening... I feel like I've been there before.

[His hands tap out the notes of brisk arpeggios on the side of his own leg- the effect is calming.]

Dreams often do. But that's not it, is it?

No. [His nightmares were rather vague in comparison... And unfortunately, he hadn't been focused enough on the setting when he'd had the dream—he'd been too horrified.] ...I can't remember where it is.

Perhaps you've been there before.

But where?

[There weren't really many places it could be, and there'd be even fewer if it were to actually make sense.]

...does it matter?

Of course it does. If I know where it is, then maybe... Maybe I can ask someone else. Maybe someone will know something that might explain this.

[The tapping pauses as Leo considers this. Really- would anyone really want to know about something like that? Even if Leo didn't like to think about it, but it...seemed so strange, wanting to find out the truth about that.

Elliot is Elliot, after all.

He leans back with a sigh.]

All right. All right.

If that's what you want, I'll do my best to help as well.

[The encouragement is nice and all, even if it seems a little... forced. Still, it doesn't change anything. There wasn't much he could do to help. If only...

He puts his cup down. Elliot's a little frustrated.]

I can't remember.

[And despite all that anger, all the frustration, the most Elliot gets is a rather contemplative silence followed by a cryptic one-word question:]

...books?

[Elliot raises an eyebrow. He wasn't expecting a helpful response anyway, but what the heck is that?]

Books?

If we gathered enough books with different places, do you think it might help you remember?

[There is a considering silence. He'd been feeling somewhat dismissive about Leo's encouragement. He didn't know what he could do to help. And then suddenly, this suggestion...

He's quiet for a moment longer before speaking up.]

We can give it a try.

Something must work.

Thank you, Leo.

[He didn't know what they'd find, or if they'd find anything at all, but... That wasn't important. What was important is that they would try.]

Have you had any tea yourself?

Ah...how do I put this?

I don't like chamomile at all.

You didn't make anything for yourself?

[Just... for him?]

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