nap time

"You need to sleep."

The nerve of him, to think he has any place to tell me what I need to do.

"I'm fine."

That answer couldn't be any further from the truth. It's getting harder and harder to read blueprints through the pounding in my skull. I think I've forgotten what language they're even written in. But I don't have any choice but to drag this body kicking and screaming through my work. Resentment roils in my empty stomach. Would I have even needed to take on this much extra responsibility if he'd simply done his job? He should know how this works by now. The guilds can't be trusted. Turn your eyes for a minute and they're at each other's throats.

"You look exhausted. Please, just rest."

I look up at him, eyes narrowed. But i can see that slight frown on his face, the worry in his gaze. Bet he doesn't even have to read my mind. It's right there on my face. I must look like a corpse, and when was the last time I shaved?

But does any of that matter? The Guildpact may have a lot of responsibility, but the plane rises and falls on his whim, everyone here beholden to his will. He could stare Niv-Mizzet in the eyes and tell him to kneel, and the dragon would have no choice but to obey. I do the same and all I can see is teeth.

Every time I think sleep sounds nice, I close my eyes and see what it's like to disappoint the Firemind against my eyelids. That would wake up anyone pretty fast.

"Can't... I have work to do." I grunt out. Maybe he'll listen this time.

He walks over to me and runs those delicate fingers through my hair. A tiny smile flickers on his lips when he hears me sigh. It feels nice.

"Honey... You have to take care of yourself."

It's like he grabbed a cord on my heart and yanked, pulling me in place like a carriage horse. That name. He knows that name always gets to me.

"Jace, I-... I really can't drop this right now..." Krokt, I haven't stammered like that since I was a kid. Maybe not even then. My face starts to burn, and I try not to look him in the eyes.

"Yes you can. I'll make sure you won't get in trouble, alright?" Those archivist's hands are at my shoulders, digging in and untangling tightly-knit muscles. His voice is a cool breeze carrying the scent of rain, bringing me to better places than this desk.

"...Fine. Whatever." It's a last-ditch effort to regroup my image, but the tone of my voice gives it away. I know it does, and I don't even care. He guides me to my feet and over to my bed, helping me to get comfortable. Fuck, it feels so good, to be off my feet, to have my back against something that isn't that hard chair. But my mind is still in the middle of the storm. I can't just banish the worry, let loose my fear.

But he knows that. He always does.

"Shhh...." Here comes the breeze again, his hands guiding my eyes closed. I've gotten used to him pressing his mind into mine, his touch so delicate, reverent, /loving/, that the tug in my chest becomes a beautiful ache. He chases the clouds away and dims the lights, lower, lower, until the blissful surrender of consciousness takes hold.

"That's better. Good night, honey."