Late Night Worries

A rare moment of calm between the chaos of the battlefield had arrived, and Trisbaine had opted to make the most of it. He had managed to pull his husband away from the chaos for some rest, and found the pair of them a tent they could retreat to. It was here he ensured Mosseux was safe, secured and comfortable.... well as comfortable as one could get in a tent anyways. And although they were both as exhausted as anyone else out in this warzone, it was Mosseux who found sleep first. Trisbaine's Duskbloom mind betrayed him again, running with thoughts. And so he sat up carefully beside Moss and sighed softly. A hand caressed those familiar fronds, that had once more shifted hues with stress and worry. And... the edges of something else.

Trisbaine swallowed hard. It was always a hard thing to think about, but it was a reality one could not really escape. His own heart was heavy with concern and worry, even as he gave the paler fronds a gentle, loving stroke. No matter what happened, no matter what Moss chose to do or who he chose to be, Trisbaine would stand by him. They had supported each other thought some dark times, and this was no exception. But.. it never really got any easier. He found himself exhaling out, as his mind continued o travel. So many had Fallen to Nightmare. So many Brothers, sisters, leaders... he had seen the before and he had seen the after. All of them changed in some way. Some found themselves and their strength, like Llachlan. Some fell into pure depravity, or depression upon the part of them that was now forever lost. Where would Mossux lie? Trisbaine had a feeling something very much valued would be lost. It hurt to think about, in all reality.

He did not blame those who fell for their choices. Some opened that door for survival, some chose it out of desperation. Some, because no other doors could be seen any more. How often in his own life had the door, had the choice, been right there begging to be taken? A release, a freedom, upon the morals and trappings of Dreamer society. How many courtiers had sought him out, wanting him to follow them? Yet, be it friend, family, or lover... he never did. He had been so close to the choice, so close to the door that he could feel the weight in his hands. Open it, his doubts had spoken. Never again feel restricted, held back, chained down and helpless.

But he never did. He had found strength eventually thorough first himself and then in others. In facing his mistakes, his decisions, his failings. He chose... he chose to love and forgive himself, as he was. He did not need to become someone new. He was not the hero of his story, he was simply himself. And day by day, the door that had once been so solid dissipated into the Mists. He had through time and love, banished the possibility of falling himself.

...Only now Mosseix fought that same battle. Trisbaine knew from experience he could only support, but ultimately the fight belonged to his husband. He just.... hoped Mosseux chose to love himself as he was now. Was it selfish he wondered? His sister had found strength when she fell, and molded herself into a better person. She was not alone. But... even so... He sighed out. He just wanted Moss to be happy, in the end. He hoped as a Dreamer, but either path would still carry love. It would. But he found himself brushing away some stray tears in his eyes, thinking about the pain Mosseux would face on either path.

He settled back down, giving Moss's forehead a gentle kiss before closing his own eyes again. "Please, choose Love," he whispered softly. He would say he was unsure he could take another he cared for Falling, but he knew should that happen... he would have to. And it felt like a thorn in his heart to think about. He wanted to do more... but he could not. And that was the hardest part of it all.