Waking.

[museworks]

My sleep was not as peaceful as I had hoped, and when I woke in the middle of the night there were glowing eyes above me in the dark. It is fortunate for Ches that I was not sleeping with a dagger under my pillow, as I have been most of the time otherwise; the eyes were his, and he had woken up because of me and had only been showing concern. I had moved instinctively when seeing his eyes, as if I had that dagger in my hand-- it would have gone across his throat. He realized this, as did I; I think it was a combination of the nightmare, that strange time of night when one's thoughts seem amplified, the dark, and his presence above it all, but I ended up crying myself to sleep on his shoulder.

I woke again this morning with him holding me as he had sometimes when we were children. He did not ask me about my nightmare, and I did not tell him. I know he was curious, though. I will have to continue writing some memories and let him read. As it was, I asked him only to please never stand over me like that again.

I am fortunate he does not ask questions. He has them, I can see it in his eyes, but he does not ask. I regret feeling as though he did not care, or only vaguely cared, at one point; I know now that he has, but was restrained by circumstance and misinformation (or simply lack of information).