Zhi never had a problem sleeping. She fell asleep easily, and she woke up (normally) with even the slightest disturbance. Dreams did not typically trouble her, nightmares even less so.
The night after she'd met that troublesome oaf -- what had he called himself? Something ridiculous, she couldn't quite focus on the name -- was different. The box came to mind, the one that she'd shaken, the one that had spoken to her. . .
She sat upright in the mess of blankets she'd slept in, skin clammy, heart racing. Her stomach growled, and the sound startled her; she jumped. She also got up, lit the lantern. She was shaking. Godspit, she was scared. Zhavi Streetrunner did not scare from dreams. She was tough. Practical. Unwavering. She did what she had to do and she didn't linger on it.
So why had she dreamt of strange, eldritch things? Why couldn't she stop shaking? Why couldn't she throw it off?
Sleep had become precious to her. When she was able to grab some, she took it without a second thought. She had the space to go back to sleep, but staring down at the blankets -- she couldn't. She couldn't even move. She huddled in the corner, lamp in hand, staring into the corners left dark by the flickering flame. Night was her time. She should not feel fear.
She didn't move.
She stayed there until dawn.
The night after she'd met that troublesome oaf -- what had he called himself? Something ridiculous, she couldn't quite focus on the name -- was different. The box came to mind, the one that she'd shaken, the one that had spoken to her. . .
She sat upright in the mess of blankets she'd slept in, skin clammy, heart racing. Her stomach growled, and the sound startled her; she jumped. She also got up, lit the lantern. She was shaking. Godspit, she was scared. Zhavi Streetrunner did not scare from dreams. She was tough. Practical. Unwavering. She did what she had to do and she didn't linger on it.
So why had she dreamt of strange, eldritch things? Why couldn't she stop shaking? Why couldn't she throw it off?
Sleep had become precious to her. When she was able to grab some, she took it without a second thought. She had the space to go back to sleep, but staring down at the blankets -- she couldn't. She couldn't even move. She huddled in the corner, lamp in hand, staring into the corners left dark by the flickering flame. Night was her time. She should not feel fear.
She didn't move.
She stayed there until dawn.
