this world is a wasteland where nothing can grow
Niki doesn't sleep like the dead so much as he sleeps like the drunk - unconsciousness seizes him like a black sheet drawn over his face, and he's gone for an amount of time that feels simultaneously like far too much and not nearly enough. He doesn't realise it but it's Sunjata's tossing and turning that stirs him, the necromancer huffing in a soft breath as if only just remembering how to breathe. All he can taste is liquor at first, though his mouth feels stuffed with cotton, making for a particularly unpleasant rise into wakefulness.
With a low, hoarse groan he manages to get his elbows beneath him, seeing nothing but bleak darkness and wishing for some light, but of course when it comes it's far too bright. The fact that he's able to correct it to something soft and dim ought to be a good indication of where he is, but Niki - whilst more sober than when he went to sleep - is still not nearly clear-headed enough for things like geolocation.
All he's aware of is that he's cold, having fallen asleep atop the blankets without his sweater, he's thirsty, and he's not alone in bed. The fuzz of alcohol will be to thank for the way his higher brain function disregards the first and third points (which would usually be the source of anything from awkwardness to blind panic), and the glass of water on the bedside table takes care of the second.
It's as he's cupping the glass between both hands after a deep and much needed drink that Sunjata shifts again, enough to draw his attention, and he finds himself squinting down at the Heartless. "Hey," he says without thinking, voice rough but soft. "It's a dream. You're okay."
With a low, hoarse groan he manages to get his elbows beneath him, seeing nothing but bleak darkness and wishing for some light, but of course when it comes it's far too bright. The fact that he's able to correct it to something soft and dim ought to be a good indication of where he is, but Niki - whilst more sober than when he went to sleep - is still not nearly clear-headed enough for things like geolocation.
All he's aware of is that he's cold, having fallen asleep atop the blankets without his sweater, he's thirsty, and he's not alone in bed. The fuzz of alcohol will be to thank for the way his higher brain function disregards the first and third points (which would usually be the source of anything from awkwardness to blind panic), and the glass of water on the bedside table takes care of the second.
It's as he's cupping the glass between both hands after a deep and much needed drink that Sunjata shifts again, enough to draw his attention, and he finds himself squinting down at the Heartless. "Hey," he says without thinking, voice rough but soft. "It's a dream. You're okay."
Niki
i used to have strength but i ran out of hope
