Curse Uncurse - ONC 2020 [Completed]

Chapter 5: War Council

*Content Warning: panic attack - not too graphic but I wanted to tag it

The first attack comes under the cover of darkness.

It is a murky night. The sky is leaden with ashen clouds, there are no stars, no moon, no light. Just like it has been when Plamen went to sleep that evening. It should have been apparent. But he didn't notice it.

He didn't notice the tension in the air, nor the vile, acrid aroma that had spread in the meantime. He didn't notice that lack of light brought more than just nightmares. Nor that the streets were much quieter than usual.

So, when in panic Vid barges into his room to wake him up, Plamen almost knocks him out with one of the defensive moves Yana has made him learn. He wrangles Vid face-first down on the bed, securing a hold on his right wrist, yanks his arm up and plasters himself over the other's body as his other hand snaps to the shoulder under him.

"What the hell, Vid?" That indignant question escapes his mouth like a broken screech.

He pants into Vid's nape, gradually softening the hold he maintains on the other's wrist and shoulder. He is still reeling from being woken up in the middle of a nightmare, trying to stop the nerve-wracking scenes overlapping with the present, trying to get the semblance of control.

Yellow iris glints under the flame of the only lightened up candle in the room, Vid's face plastered into the still warm bedding as he pleads with a soft, anguished gaze looking up at Plamen over his shoulder.

"Zmajeva Zvijezda is being attacked!" Vid doesn't fight against the hold on him and his words are somewhat muffled from half of his head sinking into the mattress.

Plamen lets him go, moving aside toward the wall, and falls down the mattress beside Vid, exhaling a groan. Only at that point, he realizes his breath is quickened, ragged, and he can't seem to grab enough air.

"Sorry..." Vid moves and hoists his upper body, leaning on his right arm. He regards him with bright eyes, concern and dismay meshing on his face. "I shouldn't have..." he trails off for a moment, and Plamen's panting is too loud in a too quiet room.

"I should've been more thoughtful," Vid finishes softly.

"It's ok."

Plamen leaves it at that because it's not ok. Because he feels sick to his stomach. Because his voice shouldn't break that much. Because he shouldn't be trembling that much. Because he shouldn't be scared so fucking much! But he doesn't know how to stop it. He doesn't really recall what he'd dreamt about, yet it shook him enough that he still can't stop gulping for air.

There are warm hands on his shoulders, and he snaps his eyes open, eyes he didn't notice closing at all. Vid moves in slowly, sneaking one hand around his back, and carefully brings him closer and closer until the only thing he breathes in is a sweet smell, yet spicy enough to remind him of a daffodil. It's a smell he's learned to pair with Vid.

Soon, he realizes, as his limbs stop trembling, as he manages to fist the dark brown cloth on the back of Vid's shirt, that he's being held in an embrace. Vid holds onto him tight, Plamen's head tucked under his, and he feels safe, but at the same time raw with emotions he doesn't even know he could feel coursing through his body, ravaging and burning.

However, it's enough. His breathing slows down, and he feels drained, more tired than when he went to sleep, his limbs heavy with exhaustion.

"You ok now?" Vid murmurs into his hair, fingers tracing through his hair in slow motions.

He thinks he is. Maybe. "Yeah." He leans back and Vid lets him go, observing him with concern and something else weaving in those dual-colored eyes.