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◤ 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞-𝖋𝖎𝖛𝖊: ❛ an act of kindness❜ ◢
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DREAMS WERE PESKY BUSINESS. Her unconscious mind had always tormented her, from a young girl who was cursed with new spells and visions of what was to come – of people dying and being revived, of curses breaking, of murder – to nightmares of Magnus being staked and now Elijah having his heart ripped out. Children dying because she wasn't enough to save them, her own body aging quickly and turning to ash.
Dreams, the ones that empowered her as a young witch, inspiring new spells at the cost of her mental state with the terrible future, now tortured her as an old, old woman still with a young face.
In her unconscious state, she felt a jolt by her in bed, and her mind shook away from another nightmare to a groggy darkness of the night. Her skin prickled with the cold air and her ears perked up at heavy breathing, unusual because her bedmate had no need for air yet he was still grasping for it. She rubbed her eyes, sitting up when she realized he wasn't down beside her.
"Elijah?" she called out to the night, focusing her eyes on his tense figure. His back strained and he propped himself up as he gasped for her, and when his eyes met her they were wild. Unfocused, all over the place, unable to stand still as they searched his brain for information. She leaned over more until she was draped against his back, her warmer body against his deathly cold one.
"Elijah?" she tried again, hoping that the contact would pull him back, but he still took a moment to regain control.
"Forgive me, I didn't mean to wake you," he apologized as he began to shake off whatever had scared him, placing a kiss on her forehead as she still had her chest pressed against his back and her arms snaked around him.
"I don't mind," she whispered into the night, "What happened? You can tell me."
His eyes met hers again, this time fully trained on just her and not wild at all, but still with an air of not fully being there. "As childish as it sounds, I had a nightmare. About Mikael – about my father."
Marisol frowned and straightened her body a little. "It's not childish at all," she assured him quickly, "You're not the only one who gets nightmares – they're a frequent part of my sleep, at least." A pause. "Do you want to talk about it? About your nightmare?"
Elijah closed his eyes then shook his head. "No, not tonight," he brought her chin up a bit and kissed her as another mark of assurance, "Go back to bed, Marisol. I didn't mean to wake up."
"I'm glad you did. You don't have to face anything – even a little nightmare – alone. I'm right here for you," she reminded him, because this was Elijah. It was him and she cared for him, despite the logical part of her brain sometimes screaming at her that she shouldn't, despite the fact that he would kill her best friend without hesitation if he made one move against Klaus.
