[ It's gotten better. The nightmares. They aren't a nightly occurrence as they had been fresh after the mission on Mesa, but they're still an occasional nuisance. An unwelcome visitor into dreams that should be about baseball or cute girls! Junpei knows what's about to happen as the landscape of Mesa unfolds before his eyes, but it doesn't stop him from screaming. He screams the whole way through the massacre and when he wakes up, he's drenched in cold sweat and his throat is hoarse. Did some of that screaming make it into the real world?
God. He hopes not.
Junpei sits for a moment, catching his breath. It was just a dream. Just a dream. It had been a reality once nearly a month ago, but that's not now. That's not tonight. So he just needs to breathe. Maybe walk around a bit to regulate himself. Junpei swings his legs over the bed and at least has the forethought to throw on a pair of sweats that were on the floor nearby. It's not just him in the apartment anymore (thankfully), and Tristan doesn't need to see Junpei in just his boxers. If they were awake anyway.
He opens the door and heads out, trying to be quiet, as he makes his way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. ]
[Tristan is already at the door when Junpei opens it, eyes large and skin faintly lit. the distress was audible to keen elf ears, and prolonged enough that they roused from meditation to linger and wonder what threshold denoted a need for intervention. Junpei isn't like the stock of warriors and scholars of Badger Hill, and as far as they know, isn't experienced in enduring horror and bloodshed. to them, he's closer to the youth of Traint who worked and played fairly untouched by such things.
time to learn, it seems.]
Junpei.
[they do not startle, having tensed already upon hearing his feet plod to the door; only their hair ruffles with the rush of air from its opening. one wrinkled hand is lifting and curled into a gentle fist for knocking. alert and concerned, they do not hesitate to fix their eyes on him to scan for injury.]
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action!
God. He hopes not.
Junpei sits for a moment, catching his breath. It was just a dream. Just a dream. It had been a reality once nearly a month ago, but that's not now. That's not tonight. So he just needs to breathe. Maybe walk around a bit to regulate himself. Junpei swings his legs over the bed and at least has the forethought to throw on a pair of sweats that were on the floor nearby. It's not just him in the apartment anymore (thankfully), and Tristan doesn't need to see Junpei in just his boxers. If they were awake anyway.
He opens the door and heads out, trying to be quiet, as he makes his way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. ]
no subject
time to learn, it seems.]
Junpei.
[they do not startle, having tensed already upon hearing his feet plod to the door; only their hair ruffles with the rush of air from its opening. one wrinkled hand is lifting and curled into a gentle fist for knocking. alert and concerned, they do not hesitate to fix their eyes on him to scan for injury.]