After Alice had intercepted him on his way home, they'd lingered in the woods. It had likely been for the best they'd been far from the house, curled together on a high pine branch overlooking the whole valley, when she'd told him in a whisper everything that had happened between Alice and Natasha. That way they don't disturb her rest.
They'd been back at the house for only a few minutes, Alice dancing off to take a shower of her own, when Jasper had reached out to Natasha and frowned. Unsettled, that's the top layer—even in sleep, there are layers to her, he'd noticed that on the drive—but as he listens, there's anger, sadness, and then a growing fear that expands shockingly fast to fill every available space, pressing everything else aside, a smothering balloon of fear. A dream. A nightmare. He's moving almost before he hears the scream.
She's awake when he gets there, but the fear hasn't ebbed, and he isn't entirely sure she's seeing what's around her. He doesn't turn on a light, just blurs across the room to kneel beside the bed, with that sharp stare trained on her. Alice would feel guilty later that she hadn't seen this coming, he thinks, but a dream isn't a decision. She'd never decide on this.
"Natalia." It's quiet and steady, in that soft accent that always triggers a delicious little mix of irritation and affection, and reaches out to rest cold fingertips against the back of one hand. "It's just a dream. Возвратитесь, Natalia."
no subject
They'd been back at the house for only a few minutes, Alice dancing off to take a shower of her own, when Jasper had reached out to Natasha and frowned. Unsettled, that's the top layer—even in sleep, there are layers to her, he'd noticed that on the drive—but as he listens, there's anger, sadness, and then a growing fear that expands shockingly fast to fill every available space, pressing everything else aside, a smothering balloon of fear. A dream. A nightmare. He's moving almost before he hears the scream.
She's awake when he gets there, but the fear hasn't ebbed, and he isn't entirely sure she's seeing what's around her. He doesn't turn on a light, just blurs across the room to kneel beside the bed, with that sharp stare trained on her. Alice would feel guilty later that she hadn't seen this coming, he thinks, but a dream isn't a decision. She'd never decide on this.
"Natalia." It's quiet and steady, in that soft accent that always triggers a delicious little mix of irritation and affection, and reaches out to rest cold fingertips against the back of one hand. "It's just a dream. Возвратитесь, Natalia."