WHEN THE QUIET ENDED ☆ o, nightmare

[FRAGGLEROCK.]

Shaking. Sobbing. He couldn't stop it. He was scared. Scared of himself, frightened of what he could do. If he could really take on the form from his nightmare, then what was there to say he couldn't kill Cleopatra, as well? His sobbing only seemed to get worse as thoughts crowded his mind, making him frantic, and breathless. The sound of NPCs shifting around him fell on deaf ears, and he didn't seem to finally react until Aesior grew close, and a nose was touched to his head. His blue gaze darted around for a moment before it landed on Aesior himself, the boy's entire body seeming to relax in the presence of the mute feline. The other served as a reminder, really. A reminder that he was in the real world, and he had others around to support him. That horrible lioness that had been in his nightmare... she wasn't his mother. She wasn't his parent in the slightest. The closest thing he had to a parent was Aesior, Arlo, and Vincent. They truly cared for him, and took care of him as parents would. They were real. The nightmare... all that it had entailed... wasn't. The form he was in now might've been real, but that didn't mean anything. After all, people discovered they had shapeshifting nearly every day.

His sobbing didn't entirely cease simply due to Aesior's presence, but it did slow down significantly. Before long he was able to speak once more, although each word was slightly forced, and shaky, "I'm... I'm sorry... I didn't mean to worry everyone. It was just a nightmare." A terrible, terrible nightmare. One that he was sure would haunt him for a long time. Yet still, he didn't feel quite as hopeless as he had just a moment earlier. Indeed, that all-absorbing feeling of darkness and depression seemed to subside even more as Vincent approached, his own comforting words proving to be a boon. Swallowing thickly as he looked up at the other, Frag hesitated momentarily before he nodded, muttering, "You're... you're right. I'm safe. I'm safe..." He then glanced down at himself, stretching out the large golden paw that wasn't being held by Aesior. He slowly spread out the individual toes, watching as still small but still very dangerous little claws emerged, gleaming in the faint light of the cavern. He swallowed down bile that rose in his throat then, images of blood pouring over those same claws flashing in his mind. He couldn't... he shouldn't be thinking of that.

Instead, he turned once more to look at the rest of himself, glancing over the colorful feathers, and warm-looking pelt. It wasn't long before he spoke up once more, face still damp with tears, "I don't... I don't know how I shifted into this. I just woke up, and I was... different." If not for the nightmare, he probably wouldn't have even thought of it as a bad different, just a disorienting one. There was quite the difference between a tiny rabbit body and a growing lion cub, after all. Still, it seemed as though he was stuck with it for now, considering he didn't seem able to shift back. He'd try more later, but... merely thinking about going back certainly wasn't doing the trick.

The presence of Cleo wasn't lost on him, but he didn't say anything to her, seemingly not even able to look in her direction. He was too afraid of triggering another flashback to the nightmare, and what he had done to her within it. There was no way he could do such a thing in the land of waking, but it still lingered on his mind, weighing down his soul. It made him feel like a monster, no matter how much he told himself that it wasn't real. That Cleopatra was right there, still alive.

☆ — what of the meek, the mourning, and the merciful?