Haunted Past

Chapter 20

Sleep came rather easy that night. Ailin cuddled under Orin's arm as the two curled around each other on the bed. Davin watched in a mixture of confused as they folded around each other quickly. Orin was bigger, but Ailin was familiar. They had slept this way many times. It was nice. Orin had numbed most of the pain from his injuries now. Rismak would kill him for it if the older man knew but, what was the point with having tricks if he couldn't use them? He couldn't heal the wounds, but he could speed up the process. It made it so he could sleep at the very least.

The nightmare washed over him. It didn't have much chance to materialise before Black was yanking him back out of it and into their palace. A whisper of Modric's face and of his hands touching Orin intimately. It all washed away as Black's fingers curled around his arms. Orin jerked backwards, looking around with wild eyes. White sat on the bed, legs crossed and fingers playing with a stream of light. Black was holding him. He was safe.

"Thank you," Orin leaned into Black for a moment.

The spirit wrapped his arms around Orin and held him close. The feeling of safety washed over him and made it almost too hard to breath. A hand cupped the back of his neck and Orin held on as something snapped in him, and he almost fell to the floor. He was safe. They would keep him safe. He didn't have to pretend here. Everything was okay now. Nothing here hurt or was trying to hurt him pass the spirits, and if they weren't letting him suffer, they couldn't be too pissed off with him because of the fist-fighting. Everything was going to be okay. He sniffed, burying his face in Black's shoulder.

"See, this is why you shouldn't have fought," Black scolded. The spirit's voice was rough and hard to listen to, but the hold was caring. The arms around him tightened, Black chin rubbed against Orin's head. "You're not ready."

Orin had to force himself to respond rather than float in warm peace that was someone's arms supporting him. "Didn't realise I needed to justify fighting." His voice choked up. "I would have thought you would have approved. The others all seemed to enjoy fighting as a hobby." Any base the rebels had made for longer than a week had a fighting pit. Orin had never joined unless it was for training. It would have been too easy for someone to grab the mask.

"That was a brawl in a pit. Not a fight," White interjected, sounding less than impressed. "Black, bring him here."

"It was a fight. Just less civilised than you would like." Orin didn't fight as Black danced him over, the arms surrounding him, leading him over easily as they span around together. Black let go to push him onto the bed. Coldness engulfed him, and Orin's chest tightened painfully. He clenched his fists.

"Not that simple," White shook his head, hands stretching out to gather Orin up and pull him backwards. Orin followed the pull, sinking into the new hold between White's legs. It was tempting to close his eyes and finish there. There was a lot of comfort here. Almost as much as cuddling Ailin in the bed invoked. "When you let out the aggression so freely, it consumes you and poisons your heart. You need to hold it in. Or find a healthier way to release it."

White's hands combed through his hair soothingly, Black's hands were rubbing his calves as the spirit sat at the end of the bed. All the comfort in the world could not stop the twinge of annoyance at the jib. "I had a healthier method," Orin muttered, wincing as Black squeezed his leg painfully. "I did!"