Endeavors of the Enigmatic and Eccentric

by Ice Star


In Your Dreams [Drama]

My hooves touched down on the grass of Canterhorn mountain silently, the dew on the blades dampening my bare hooves. I hadn't had the time to slip on my regalia, and it was so trivial right now. The moon I had raised so carefully earlier was high in the sky, and the tapestry of stars I had worked so excitedly on this dusk hid behind dark clouds gathered around the mountains. Such a sight matched my mood, as a storm of anxious feelings was brewing in me and my throat felt tight.

I could spot where Sombra's pocket dimension was anchored easily in the dark because of the amount of hoofprints that were visible.

I lit my horn, tried to swallow and tried to focus on anything other than the feel of my heartbeat and how warm with worry I felt on this night.

A pocket of grey appeared, and I hurried inside with one swift leap.

...

My night vision was not muddled by the dim shadows of Sombra's home, and I glimpsed more than the mere outlines of his things. Sombra, however, was not in sight. My chest tightened, and the quickened beat of my heart felt like it was fueling me to look around more.

Where is he? Has he left?

I swallowed again, and whispered his name, "Sombra?"

I think I heard something. Or somepony.

"Sombra?" I called again, but not with enough volume I might frighten him.

Please answer me.

The worry all wound up in my double-knotted itself. I think I know what as happened now, and it makes me feel worse.

A single sound breaks my increasingly frenzied thoughts: a shaking, muffled, and miserable sort of warble. It lasts briefly, and the sound is a bit deep to be called a 'warble', but I am familiar with the choked tone it has. It is how I know that it is the equivalent of a whimper for Sombra, and one of the few sounds like it he can make.

Please, please, please, comes the involuntary thoughts begging for any clue to where he is. I cannot see him, so he might be lurking among the more distant shadows of his plain realm, and his whimper could be distorted. I also worried he might be possessing something, and I would have to dig through objects and have to console him and coax him out from there.

There is that slight swelling in my throat again, and all because I know he's in distress.

A blur of motion occurs near gray crystal, moving blankets.

A crimson glow sparks in the dark.

There he is.

...

My heart is now hammering and aching, because I have found Sombra. He lies on his stomach, frozen with fear, and tangled up in blankets. His muzzle and face are pushed into his forehooves as much as he can, but he cannot quite hide his eyes, which are wide with fear. The poor fellow is shivering, and his ears are pinned back.

I sit beside him immediately, slipping a forehoof under his mess of quilts to rub his withers and pet what I can find of his mane. My vision is blurred by how watery my eyes are when I realize how tense he is.

"You're alright now," I whisper gently, even though I find it hard to make the words come out as calmly as I would like. "I promise you're going to be okay, Sombra."

And when it comes to these matters, I keep my promises.

When he nuzzles his head deeper into his forehooves, I snake one forehoof along his mattress until I reach his. To let him know that he has no reason to fear this contact, regardless of what his mind is experiencing, my touch would bring him no harm. He needed those reminders sometimes, so I rest my forehoof firmly on his own.

We were both lucky that he hadn't been overwhelmed with his terrors into thinking he must still fight something.

Wanting to soothe him to the point where we could interact with more ease, I drew as many deep breaths as I could, knowing I had to prepare my voice. Shutting my eyes to clear my budding tears and my mind, I searched for what I might sing to Sombra tonight.

My singing calmed him when my words failed me, and helped him to focus. They were an important part of these routines we had, and managed to ease his anxiety attacks, panic attacks, nightmares, night terrors, and various other episodes. Because of him, I had somepony to sing to, and in his better moments he would tell me how he found it lovely and that it guides him in dark times. I'm always trying to find what songs work best for different situations, but he mostly just seems to like my singing itself rather than anything specific. However, I find that my old folk songs and lullabies are often the most effective.

His love for lullabies is such an odd, fragile, and wholly unexpected thing to me, even now. Small melodies usually reserved for foals can help calm him when he needs it, and he'll hardly react to them outside of these times of mental troubles, epspecaily if I'm not the one singing them. He tends to be especially non-reactive then.

Deciding a lullaby will work tonight, I open my mouth and sing. The short melody is familiar to him, as well as many other foals throughout Equestria, and is little more than a timeless, anonymous song that I have been hearing versions of since the Tribal Era. Many young foals who struggle in their dreams have had me sing this to them as well.

"Hush now, quiet now
It's time to lay your sleepy head
Hush now, quiet now
It's time to go to bed."

I want to talk to Sombra, not have him sleep, but this is such a gentle song that he's grown accustomed to hearing from me, even though I used to worry that Sombra would find me singing him lullabies to be condescending. It is nearly effortless to sing, too. All I need to do is repeat the single verse as needed, something that lulls young foals - and Sombra - into much calmer states when other things may fail.

And it appears as though this will be one of those nights.

"Hush now, quiet now
It's time to lay your sleepy head
Hush now, quiet now
It's time to go to bed."

I move a forehoof to his mane, feeling traces of cold sweat under them as I stroke the ragged dark locks.

"Hush now, quiet now
It's time to lay your sleepy head
Hush now, quiet now
It's time to go to bed."

I light my horn softly, let a galaxy of small werelights in a variety of teals, blues, and turquoise reflect across the gray and shadows. Darkness may soothe Sombra and I, but soft glows hurt so few, and tonight, I think he needed a little something else to focus on. The sparkles and purple highlights of my mane are lit up brightly and beautifully. It takes me a few minutes to realize that I am smiling, if only a little. With another few sparks of my magic, a miniature galaxy of cheery stars swirling about glittering aura dances about just for Sombra.

Seeing one of his forehooves inch away from his eyes to behold what I've created for him warms my heart.

I keep petting his mane, murmuring to him about how he's going to be okay, that I'm here for him, and all the usual promises I always follow through on. He doesn't shiver any longer, and he's not as tense. While I am thankful for that, he still feels anxious and is not breathing right.

I know my lullaby worked well enough, thankfully, and my starry lights were a welcome distraction. With that known, I moved my forehooves and quickly flipped him onto his back as efficiently and kindly as I could, provoking a sharp intake of breath from him and a startled sort of yelp.

His eyes were still wide even when it was done, and he drew a few shallow breaths. I moved one of my forehooves to rest oh his chest, applying gentle, firm pressure.

"Breathe, Sombra."

He swallowed forcibly, making an awkward noise in the back of his throat. His forelegs shook slightly.

"Breathe in, Sombra," I said again. My tone was gentle and clear, just like it was supposed to be for the breathing exercises I had him do in times like these. I took one calm breath in and tapped his chest lightly. "In," I said quietly.

He took one shaky breath, and I wanted to scoop him up into a hug right there.

"Breathe out," I told him.

Sombra exhaled raggedly, and he didn't look as though he was focusing right. There was a still-wild gleam in his eyes, but not his usual sharp one. It was on edge and unsettled. I stirred the small display of stars I had created for him, hoping the overt presence of my magic would act as a sensory aid, knowing that he was intrigued and attracted to the feeling.

"Breathe in," I repeated, noting that his next breathe was easier.

His gaze was fixed on my little stars now, and the movement of his eyes traced their paths, with his mane spilling out across his face and behind him. Were he not so upset, I would say he was a very handsome sight.

The sour feeling in my stomach had eased, too. I still felt that his heartbeat was racing.

"Breathe out," I told him once more, pulling a few blankets from his tangle of them, and stuffing a few behind him in order to prop him up.

He did, and it was not as shaky. I think I saw more focus in his eyes too.

"Breathe in," I repeated yet again, watching as he scooted slowly into something closer to sitting upright.

There were times when we had to do this for close to an hour or more, where I worked to pull him closer to me with every breath, look, touch, and use of his name. There were entire nights he was distraught, but I could never find it in my heart to be impatient with him.

I was prepared to do this until dawn.

"Breathe out."

Sombra's exhale held a sigh too heavy for him to bear alone.

...

Twenty-two excruciating minutes later, Sombra leaned against my wither, wrapped in his worn quilts and one of my wings, and was drawn as close to me as possible. He was exhausted, and I worn and concerned. I nuzzled him tenderly behind his ears and in his mane, because he looked miserable: his mane was in disarray, his eyes were weary, and he looked so gloomy and pained.

I used careful nibbles and licks to groom Sombra, gently working through as much as his mane and work through his coat where it was uncovered. On most days, even the bad ones, Sombra would sigh happily, or in relief from my efforts, all his fears dissolving into his more usual behaviors. Oftentimes, he would nip my ears, neck, or even my rippling mane in an enticing display of playfulness that was far too irresistble to refuse.

Tonight Sombra was so forlorn it hurt.

I nickered into his mane softly and stroked his cheek with my feathers, and he cuddled closer to me, still so weary from his ordeal.

I planted a kiss on his head and let him adjust himself as he needed, wanting him to be comfortable. Now was about time we talked.

...

"Was it just a nightmare tonight?" I ask, twirling a bit of his mane in my magic. My display of magic was done, and now I was free to toy with his mane however I pleased.

Sombra gave one exhausted breath and shook his head. Due to how he had arranged himself, all he ended up doing was nuzzling further into my coat. Times like these are when he normally does not wish to talk, or he'll ramble so frantically in hopes that I will listen, even though he has a harder time focusing on things.

I always do listen, and my heart aches with him.

Perhaps today might not be one of those days, where he needs me to watch what he says with every little gesture alone. He might have something to get off his chest tonight. I certainly do.

"I woke up fighting..." He wants to say a name, or what he saw. Or he might just be fixating on it so intensely, as he often does, because his words hang so abruptly that I stifle a little gasp, expecting an ending, an identity to his latest terror, or a memory burned into his fitful slumber to be outlined so vividly for me, word by word.

"Again," he says instead, the word so blunt to the both of us. He said it with the impact I would expect from a cursed tomb being sealed at last.

I don't offer up the hollow platitudes and empty condolences my sister would; not now and not ever. I have never even done so to foals. My wing around Sombra, how I lean into him after he has spoken, and the look we share seals more than those such terribly needless words ever could right now.

We are direct with one another, whether it be through words or looks, and I look right into those crimson eyes of his and see that always he remains unbroken, though he still is so weary tonight.

Leaning forward, I guide him into a short kiss, knowing that he really is so terribly our of sorts to accept my gentle guidance instead of leaning into it himself.

When we part, I tell him what has lurked in my thoughts: "I thought I had sensed your presence calling to me on dream-errands, and yet you've been so curiously absent these bast few days. Why is that?"

He sizes up every feature of concern I bear to him, knowing that no matter what, I have always made the effort to recognize the call of his dreams above other ponies'. I place his dreams and our encounters within as a higher priority than many other dream-visits that are so much more like trivial errands in comparison. "I haven't been sleeping."

That's why...

The problem practically clicks into much greater clarity. The absence of any indicators he was sleeping at all meant exactly what it sounded like. With absolutely no way for me survey all the dreams and sleeping creatures there are, I relied on the intangible pulses of 'calls' - though, sometimes they were audible - of dreamers to show me where to go. Nightmares and night terrors had a strong tug to them, as did dreams with great intensity in general. Lucid dreams were usually just droll occasions where I would have to show up and find some fool who had to have it explained to them that just because they know that they are dreaming does that mean that they can scream out wantonly that they have the ability to challenge me, because they have no such thing.

These signals are distinct, and that means that those with recurring dreams will often be easier to recognize when such calls go out. Sombra has one of the most distinct calls, and I have put great effort into working my magic to get as much information out of the impression he has in the world of dreams, something that I have not done for anypony else. This way, I can make more educated guesses on how much sleep he has been getting to deduce not only when his work means he'll be travelling, but so that I can answer incidents like these as I need to.

All of it is work I am immensely proud of.

Reaching up with a foreleg, I stroke Sombra's cheek with soft, affectionate movements. "Why is that?" I asked him between pets, "You only just got back from Las Pegasus, and you mean to tell me you have not slept since...?"

I waited for him to supply an answer, and he did quickly.

"Not since before I left."

That meant that Sombra's mercenary work-trip to the great city along the bay, he hadn't gotten...

Poor Sombra...

Without hesitation, I pulled him into a great big bear hug, muffling his sounds of surprise and protest by wrapping him up in both wings and forelegs, so that he was in a tight, proper embrace of feathers and might.

No sleep for two weeks was dangerous for any mortal, it was not uncommon for the divine. I was used to going for months without sleep and my sister is capable of doing so for years, but only after we have allowed ourselves to adjust to putting our minds and bodies through such conditions.

Sombra could go long without sleep, but it was his mental health that had me worried... and his sleep cycle was still so poor.

"What is it that keeps you from sleep for so long, Som?"

Sombra pulls me closer. "I..." I felt him swallow and rubbed one forehoof into his mane to caress it, and used the other to hold him closer.

"What troubles you, hmm? To not sleep on your entire trip... is it insomnia? Is your slumber off?"

Those were the usual problems. Though his enjoyment of coffee helped with keeping him awake when he needed to be, it could make him oddly anxious at times. If I hadn't suspected he might have either gone on an unhealthy binge to prolong this condition, or his own paranoia was keeping him so restless, I would suggested he have some, no matter how ill I think of the foul stuff.

He appeared slightly twitchy still, and didn't smell like he had been drinking any coffee recently, so my guess was on his own mind. It was a great, dark, dangerous thing and I loved him for it, even if sometimes it was Sombra who fought himself most of all. Sometimes, even referring to some of his habits as 'paranoid' hurt because he really did have such reason to be, and I didn't want to invalidate any of his concerns and worries.

"I don't want to go to sleep," he mumbled sullenly.

"'Don't want to'?" I echoed back to him, trying to nudge him towards a proper answer.

"...I'm..."

I patiently pat the top of his mane. A faint glow of my aura appears, and I use my telekinesis to give slow, deep scratches behind Sombra's ears.

"Mmrph. Luna that-"

"Feels nice?"

Exhaling deeply, Sombra nods into my withers. "Oh, yesss~."

"Just tell me what you must when you can. I shall not be departing any time soon."

"Mmm, lucky me."

"You are very lucky indeed. I bet you're lucky I'm a wonderfully good listener too! Does that not tempt you to want divulge anything to me?" I move the forehoof that was helping with keeping Sombra close to me down so I could properly prod him in his exposed stomach.

"Mur-arp! Luna!" he protested, and since we were all but muzzle-to-muzzle, I got to watch how silly he looked. Not every time I had to encourage and help him communicate his thoughts and problems was peppered with jokes; there were times when we hurt too deeply to be laughing at all.

"Just tell me what's wrong," I whispered into his ear.

"...I'm afraid to sleep."

All my playfulness melted to a look of pure worry. "Is it your night terrors?"

"I'm not entirely sure," he admitted, "I just don't want to. I can't. I don't want to have to dream knowing what I'll feel or..." He gulped. "Wake up afraid. Finding myself alone when I... I want you..."

"To be here with you?"

He bobbed his head in a few somewhat anxious nods. I just let the ebb of the newly returned sour feeling in my stomach to carry, and let my sadness spread.

Sombra and I knew one another's dreams like a foal knows their backyard. I have revealed all that can be told to him, and there are few things Sombra has not confessed to me. We have both admitted to knowingly nearly everything of one another in all ways. We meet in our dreams when we cannot in the waking world. Together, we'll walk worlds of dreams all our own. There are rare times when I will take him dream walking with me to see others.

He fights so many inner battles and I am in awe of him for that, both due to personal experience and how his determination he has paid off. Sombra has confided in me that he would not trade his nightmares and the battles he has with them. I know that he would rather have them over no dreams at all, and there are some he can bear on his own. Lately, I feel as though he might be considering otherwise, at least when it comes to how often he has them. Twice a week tends to be the minimum for nightmares, and that is including those he can face on his own...

...but the ones he cannot...

Sighing, I tucked a few stray strands of his mane behind his ear with my feathers. "I think I have a solution for tonight."

We did tend to deal with this one night at a time. Daytime is when we held more lengthy discussions about all these occurrences and how they might be dealt with long-term.

"You do? What is it?"

"I shall stay here and sleep with you."

Only now did Sombra's gaze waver. One forehoof could not mask his unexpected smile entirely, and his chuckle grew into a wonderful sort of laugh. Combined with the knowing slyness spark shining in his eyes, we both knew he was at the point of insomnia where anything could prove funny.

Oh, and maybe I did trot right into that one. At least just a little bit.

"Absolutely, Luna! I'm all for that option," he said so lightly, laughing still, and shooting me a wink, "regardless of how you meant it."

I crossed my hooves and shot him an immense pout right back and absolutely did not smile.

My face did feel a bit warm though. Sombra was terribly handsome in cunning in equal measures, and knew how to extract pouts as he pleased.

I simply had to pout even longer because it wasn't fair he could do such a thing to get such a reaction.

Sombra leaned over, making a series of soft trills in my ears, and scooped me into an embrace. He was as hopeless a cuddlebug as he was a romantic, and the most successful plan to combat his nightmares so far were all the ones where I woke up to find he had wrapped his forelegs around me and held onto me the whole night. With night terrors, things were not always so easy: he mumbled in nightmares at times, but with nightmares he screamed. He would shout out entire conversations and heated fights into the darkness.

He lashes out, and wakes me with small bruises about my legs, back, hindquarter, and stomach.

And when I pull him from his memories, he's the one who is beaten, cursing himself and apologizing non-stop at the sight of them. And no self-hate and loathing is within Sombra's heart and mind. He adores himself almost as much as he expresses love to me, but I know there are deeds of his that he is troubled by, and times when he is too emotional to bother distinguishing them from each other.

With heartbroken eyes closer to tears than I could ever be used to, I meet his eyes over and over again, completely unafraid. We heal them together, I never blame him, and rebuke the severity he gives such actions. Bruises are rare, but their impact on him is all that really hurts. I cannot say I've ever been more than a bit startled by those; his fear and shouting is what really makes me afraid.

Afraid for him, if I am to be precise.

Is it really any wonder he can be so sullen? With so much on his mind, and how he does indeed lose sleep over his own dreams, how can he not feel drained now and then?

Quiet settles around us, and Sombra flops back onto his mattress. We both collapse together, in a tangle of limbs, with me lying atop him. Quilts surround us like twigs in a nest, creating a warm and protective feeling so deeply personal to us.

I can feel Sombra's heartbeat with how I am positioned.

He isn't afraid any more. I think that his eyes will be worried, though.

"Goodnight, Sombra," I whisper.

"I love you," he tells me, and he'll tell it to me again when we wake up. In place of every good morning, afternoon, evening, and night he only ever tells me he loves me.

He does not ask about what my sister will think when she realizes I am not in the castle either. I don't care if she fusses over something so silly, it matters not to me. Somepony truly needed me.

"I love you too, Sombra. See you in your dreams."

And I shall. There will be no dreamless sleep and similar slumber-spells tonight.

Sweet dreams, Sombra.