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@hellomr-zephyr
Intro Post!
π«
//A drawing I made of him w/ a base not my own
Full Name: Dylan Jude Zephyr
From: Setauket, Long Island, New York
Birthday: December 12
Age: 32
Spouse: Athena Judith Zephyr
Children: Atlantis Brooke Zephyr, Coraline "Coral" Zephyr
Occupation: Tailor
Hobbies: reading, gardening, caring for wild animals
Height: 6'0"
mod speaks under cut
Um, Cam, yes? Sorry to bother you but, I was wondering if you knew something about this?
Once he approached them, he held up a wooden item carved in an interesting way. The symbol on it stood for confusion, which was a little funny considering Dylan was evidently confused to its use, though Cam couldn't recall on the spot what this item in particular was.
My wife sent it to me in her most recent letter.. You wouldn't happen to know what it is or what it does, would you?
β π«
They stared at it for a long moment, trying to bring its name to mind as they took it from him to observe it closely. The wood was rough against their palms, and the white paint that made the confusion imbuement symbol on the item's face stood out against it.
...I know what this is, but I can't recall it right now. You wouldn't mind if I kept it until I've figured out what it is, would you?
..I have a bad feeling about that thing...
Of course not. Thank you.
Do try to be careful with it, please. I'd hate for a gift from my Athena to go unappreciated because of an incident.
Papa!
...Was that?
Mr. Dylan, is it? May I speak with you, please?
β π°
He nodded slightly, a tiny smile that didn't quite reach his eyes set on his lips.
Just Dylan is fine. Was there something you needed to speak with me about particularly? I've heard you've been looking for me.
...He was just imagining things. She was already gone. Dead and buried. He couldn't possibly be hearing her voice. Right?
Yes, I have been. Before I, well explain exactly why, someone has asked me to give you this.
They handed him an interesting item. A pendant that was a part of a necklace. It appeared quite normal, but Cam was aware of its Thaumic properties, and judging by the warmth that seemed to return to his eyes, even just slightly, it was doing its job.
...Well, I suppose I don't need to explain. They can do it for you.
They tilted their head in the direction of Dylan's family. The ones that had been long dead, the ones that still hurt to think of, and his daughter. Coral. He could see them. All of them.
Papa! Papa! Papa!
He hadn't been imagining her voice after all.
...Coral..?
Was he imagining things? Hallucinating perhaps? His little girl, the one he had been forced to watch succumb to a terrible disease, the one he had buried only recently rush up to him, slowing down and passing only a foot or two away from him, staring up at him as she usually had.
Papa. I missed you.
He couldn't tell if he was alive, dead, awake or asleep right now, but he could hardly bring himself to care. Tears ran down his face as some strange mixture of emotions welled up within him at the sight of his little girl before him with the mixture of the Grey's Grace, kneeling down to her level still holding the artifact Cam had handed him.
Coral.. is it really you?
His hand came up to try and touch her, and he nearly had a heart attack when he actually managed to touch her cheek, sobbing at the sight of her leaning into his hand as she began to cry as well.
Mhm. I'm back home, Papa. I missed you.
After the initial touch and the reiteration she had missed him as much as he had missed her, he threw his arms around her and started bawling as all the composure he had fell apart, holding her so tight she might not have been able to breathe if she had needed to, her arms returning the tight hug in as equal measure she could muster as they held each other, the rest of the ghosts watching nearly as emotional as Dylan was in that moment.
Cam watched as well, happy they could reunite a kid with their parent the way they wished it could've happened for them.
Papa!
...Was that?
Mr. Dylan, is it? May I speak with you, please?
β π°
He nodded slightly, a tiny smile that didn't quite reach his eyes set on his lips.
Just Dylan is fine. Was there something you needed to speak with me about particularly? I've heard you've been looking for me.
...He was just imagining things. She was already gone. Dead and buried. He couldn't possibly be hearing her voice. Right?
Um.. apologies, major, I just heard you were looking for me? Did you need me for something..?
β π«
Yes, an acquaintance of mine was inquiring your whereabouts the other day, although I'm not certain of the reason why.
If you'd like, I can find them and askβor just bring them to you, I suppose.
It may be worth mentioning that beforehand, I somewhat overheard them and another officer speaking about a child... Coral, I believe?
- Major Hewlett
Coral? Myβ
I.. I would, like to speak with them, thank you, major.
He tried to cure his own despair, the grief gnawing at his heart and intestines so intensely his body felt partially empty. But it was hard. Death was an inevitable part of life, a simple thing that would come to everyone who's ever lived. That hardly made losing his daughter any easier.
They had both been suffering in the days leading up to it, and by the time it was finally over, he felt almost numb. He sent Athena a letter. He didn't have the heart to tell his now only child his little sister had passed, and could only hope his beloved could provide it in a way he couldn't.
He couldn't cure the hole in his heart no matter what he did, or what he thought of doing. He reread letters from others and stared at her name on the pages, as if she was already a fading memory and not a fresh wound that had yet to start healing at all. The only letters he tried to keep free of his tears were the ones from his family. He couldn't keep himself from crying properly seeing how adoringly they spoke of his little girl.
It couldn't heal, no matter what he did. Even after a bottle or two of wine, it never left his mind. It never even went numb. It felt excruciating, waiting for the world around him to blur until he couldn't feel anything at all in his body, with nothing happening other than silence. Maybe this was his curse. Forced into mourning so intense he couldn't help but feel something. It certainly felt that way.
Strangely enough, as though there weren't enough strange things happening around the place, the major was interrupted from whatever he was in the middle of doing when a sob cut through the peaceful silence of the area..
Who on Earth was crying?
β π«
*Hewlett stirred from his paperwork, and after a moment he got up to search for the source of the sobbing. Despite the late hour and his busyness, it was quite concerning, so he could at least find whoever it is and see that they're fine.
- Major Hewlett
In the darkness, it was evidently difficult to see, but when the major discovered the source of the sobbing, he also discovered a lantern sitting on the ground still lit nearby, most likely in use by the man weeping nearby.
At the sound of someone's approach, Dylan lifted his head from his knees, hoping the light of his nearby lantern didn't reach far enough to light up his face, his body quaking with emotion, something noticeable even in the dark, as he tried to pull himself together enough to speak.
The poor thing was clearly miserable.
..Apologies, Major... Iβ must've interrupted your work.. I'm a-alright, just.... need to release, my e-emotions..
It was clear that even in the dark, the man was far from as alright as he claimed to be, his face stained with tears that were still streaming down his face, his voice shaking despite his attempts to steady it, and his breathing harsh from the breaths that escaped his lungs with every sob.
Hewlett frowned as he approached the other man.
You certainly need not apologise, sir, um...
He tensed, clearly not being equipped to deal with a situation like this. Then, the major took a step closer, crouching slightly in a way that could be interpreted as an attempt to comfort.
If you don't mind my asking, uh, what is it that's caused... this?
Dylan sniffled, a hiccup interrupting his attempt to calm himself down as he spoke again.
I.. my daughter.. sheβ she passed away a few days ago... she was so.. she didn'tβ she didn't deserve it... she was so young...
Unfortunately for Dylan, this kind of grief doesn't pause when it's inconvenient for you, so the longer he spoke about it, the harder it got to hold himself together, sobs still wracking his body as he held his head in his hands and tried and failed to keep himself from further falling apart.
Oh...
Oh dear.
The Major winced slightly, at both the loss as well as the other mans reaction. He was quiet for a moment, and just watched Dylan, until he spoke hesitantly.
M- my condolences, sir. I can't imagine... um, is there anything I could do for you?
Iβ no, you don't need to do anything, major, I'm sure you're very.. busy, Iβ I'll be fine..
He hiccoughed again, sniffling as he weakly tried to wipe his face to prove he was alright, though it was an incredibly fruitless effort.
... I donβt wish to doubt or offend you at all, but you donβt quite seem fineβ which is, of course, wholly expected and understandable.
Hewlett sighed and extended a hand to the other.
I'm surely not so busy that I cannot help a grieving man. Anything you may need, sir, ought to be fulfilled.
Dylan paused, his eyes visibly glassy as his gaze went from the major's face to his hand, sniffling as he hesitantly took the other man's hand, his own shaking and gentle, as if he himself wasn't the one who seemed close to shattering.
I... would.. like to not be alone. If you're certain it's not an issue...
Strangely enough, as though there weren't enough strange things happening around the place, the major was interrupted from whatever he was in the middle of doing when a sob cut through the peaceful silence of the area..
Who on Earth was crying?
β π«
*Hewlett stirred from his paperwork, and after a moment he got up to search for the source of the sobbing. Despite the late hour and his busyness, it was quite concerning, so he could at least find whoever it is and see that they're fine.
- Major Hewlett
In the darkness, it was evidently difficult to see, but when the major discovered the source of the sobbing, he also discovered a lantern sitting on the ground still lit nearby, most likely in use by the man weeping nearby.
At the sound of someone's approach, Dylan lifted his head from his knees, hoping the light of his nearby lantern didn't reach far enough to light up his face, his body quaking with emotion, something noticeable even in the dark, as he tried to pull himself together enough to speak.
The poor thing was clearly miserable.
..Apologies, Major... Iβ must've interrupted your work.. I'm a-alright, just.... need to release, my e-emotions..
It was clear that even in the dark, the man was far from as alright as he claimed to be, his face stained with tears that were still streaming down his face, his voice shaking despite his attempts to steady it, and his breathing harsh from the breaths that escaped his lungs with every sob.
Hewlett frowned as he approached the other man.
You certainly need not apologise, sir, um...
He tensed, clearly not being equipped to deal with a situation like this. Then, the major took a step closer, crouching slightly in a way that could be interpreted as an attempt to comfort.
If you don't mind my asking, uh, what is it that's caused... this?
Dylan sniffled, a hiccup interrupting his attempt to calm himself down as he spoke again.
I.. my daughter.. sheβ she passed away a few days ago... she was so.. she didn'tβ she didn't deserve it... she was so young...
Unfortunately for Dylan, this kind of grief doesn't pause when it's inconvenient for you, so the longer he spoke about it, the harder it got to hold himself together, sobs still wracking his body as he held his head in his hands and tried and failed to keep himself from further falling apart.
Oh...
Oh dear.
The Major winced slightly, at both the loss as well as the other mans reaction. He was quiet for a moment, and just watched Dylan, until he spoke hesitantly.
M- my condolences, sir. I can't imagine... um, is there anything I could do for you?
Iβ no, you don't need to do anything, major, I'm sure you're very.. busy, Iβ I'll be fine..
He hiccoughed again, sniffling as he weakly tried to wipe his face to prove he was alright, though it was an incredibly fruitless effort.
Strangely enough, as though there weren't enough strange things happening around the place, the major was interrupted from whatever he was in the middle of doing when a sob cut through the peaceful silence of the area..
Who on Earth was crying?
β π«
*Hewlett stirred from his paperwork, and after a moment he got up to search for the source of the sobbing. Despite the late hour and his busyness, it was quite concerning, so he could at least find whoever it is and see that they're fine.
- Major Hewlett
In the darkness, it was evidently difficult to see, but when the major discovered the source of the sobbing, he also discovered a lantern sitting on the ground still lit nearby, most likely in use by the man weeping nearby.
At the sound of someone's approach, Dylan lifted his head from his knees, hoping the light of his nearby lantern didn't reach far enough to light up his face, his body quaking with emotion, something noticeable even in the dark, as he tried to pull himself together enough to speak.
The poor thing was clearly miserable.
..Apologies, Major... Iβ must've interrupted your work.. I'm a-alright, just.... need to release, my e-emotions..
It was clear that even in the dark, the man was far from as alright as he claimed to be, his face stained with tears that were still streaming down his face, his voice shaking despite his attempts to steady it, and his breathing harsh from the breaths that escaped his lungs with every sob.
Hewlett frowned as he approached the other man.
You certainly need not apologise, sir, um...
He tensed, clearly not being equipped to deal with a situation like this. Then, the major took a step closer, crouching slightly in a way that could be interpreted as an attempt to comfort.
If you don't mind my asking, uh, what is it that's caused... this?
Dylan sniffled, a hiccup interrupting his attempt to calm himself down as he spoke again.
I.. my daughter.. sheβ she passed away a few days ago... she was so.. she didn'tβ she didn't deserve it... she was so young...
Unfortunately for Dylan, this kind of grief doesn't pause when it's inconvenient for you, so the longer he spoke about it, the harder it got to hold himself together, sobs still wracking his body as he held his head in his hands and tried and failed to keep himself from further falling apart.
Strangely enough, as though there weren't enough strange things happening around the place, the major was interrupted from whatever he was in the middle of doing when a sob cut through the peaceful silence of the area..
Who on Earth was crying?
β π«
*Hewlett stirred from his paperwork, and after a moment he got up to search for the source of the sobbing. Despite the late hour and his busyness, it was quite concerning, so he could at least find whoever it is and see that they're fine.
- Major Hewlett
In the darkness, it was evidently difficult to see, but when the major discovered the source of the sobbing, he also discovered a lantern sitting on the ground still lit nearby, most likely in use by the man weeping nearby.
At the sound of someone's approach, Dylan lifted his head from his knees, hoping the light of his nearby lantern didn't reach far enough to light up his face, his body quaking with emotion, something noticeable even in the dark, as he tried to pull himself together enough to speak.
The poor thing was clearly miserable.
..Apologies, Major... Iβ must've interrupted your work.. I'm a-alright, just.... need to release, my e-emotions..
It was clear that even in the dark, the man was far from as alright as he claimed to be, his face stained with tears that were still streaming down his face, his voice shaking despite his attempts to steady it, and his breathing harsh from the breaths that escaped his lungs with every sob.
Good evening, Ash! I do hope you're doing well, despite the late hour. I heard you were having blueberry bread. I do enjoy blueberries, especially the ones that come with the satisfaction of growing them yourself! Have you ever grown anything, Ash?
β Dylan Zephyr π«π
HELLO DYLAN!!!! Iβm well!! How arth thou???? Yes I am a dirty little SLUT for blueberries and I am going to try and make some blueberry bread laterβ¦ as it sounds QUITE tastyβ¦. Iβve grown plants and stuff, my grandpa used to have a shit ton of apple/plum trees AND we used to have blackberry bushesβ¦β¦ those were so fun π₯Ήπ₯Ή I think I got a picture hold on
You canβt tell but the ones on the left side are apple trees and the one the furthest to the right is a plum tree πΈ
How wonderful! Sounds like a pleasant way to spend your time. ^β _β ^
Strangely, a stray black cat, who seemed to have made her way inside of her volition, padding towards him, sizing him up when she sat before him, seeming satisfied when their eyes met.
She almost seemed.. too smart for a cat. Maybe it was nothing.
Dylan blinked, feeling oddly, soothed? He smiled at her softly, holding out a hand to let her sniff.
He almost felt, okay, when she sniffed at it before batting at his hand with a paw, letting out a slight laugh as he let her.
He glanced up when he heard someone else approaching, feeling his mood pick up a little more seeing Basil with Coral perched on his hip, evidently close to a nap.
Your kid really did get your personality. I found that out watching her run all over the place in the middle of winter.
Basil sat down next to Dylan with a smile, keeping Coral in his lap to let her fall asleep if she wanted to, picking a couple things that had ended up in her hair out, distracting himself from how the poor girl was technically still not alive by drawing his attention to stray that hadn't been there earlier, the same one Dylan was now distracting with a strand of hair, watching as she batted at it and tried to grab it.
Who's this?
Basil inquired, feeling Coral falling asleep as he shifted slightly to get a glance at Dylan's face, bolstered immensely by how Dylan seemed happier by the small black invader. Only the other day, he had seemed so broken, so far from the sunny boy he remembered. Because he wasn't, he was grown, now, and now that he was finally giving himself a chance to grieve, slowly, he was starting to get better.
She just walked in. I think she's a stray. She seemed interested in me..
The hallucinations were still there, sometimes it felt a little hopeless wishing for them to disappear, but Basil was always there, no matter how small or big. One day, maybe, he'd be able to repay Basil for all that he's done for him.
She's cute. Pretty eyes too. Reminds me of someone.
Basil spoke up, feeling heat crawl up the back of his neck at how he may have accidentally hinted at just how he felt about Dylan. He didn't need that. Not after everything he's had to handle so far. He didn't need to tackle Basil's lingering feelings.
Luckily, this was Dylan Zephyr he was talking to. And the man had a reputation for being incredibly oblivious, no matter how obvious the hint.
Like Coral?
Basil blinked, caught off guard for a moment before bursting into soft giggles he had to hold back to refrain from waking up the aforementioned child still sitting in his lap.
What? That sounds like a short description of my kid.
Dylan huffed warmly, smiling, even when his attention went back to the cat sitting before him and he saw her staring up at him, as though unimpressed.
What? Was it something I said?
He was curled into himself, shaking from his own emotion rather than the chill curled around him like a blanket.
The gun before him sitting in the snow simultaneously felt like an enemy and a savior, their gentle words for his undeserving ears feeling like a spear piercing through his heart with every one.
It only grew worse when the question kept ramming through his head.
Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?
I don't deserve to live, that's why!
He screamed at the open air, answering a question he'd never been asked, tears dripping onto his shirts as he pulled the bullets for it out of his pocket, loading the revolver entirely before pressing it against his head, finally drawing comfort from the metal against his temple knowing it was the final time he would.
However, he paused when he heard someone approach him, glassy blue eyes meeting bright green.
Basil?
His head was filled to the brim with questions as he remained in a restless slumber, but one kept popping up as he tossed and turned.
"What if I really am not going mad? Is there really an explanation to what my mind is producing that doesn't lead to insanity?"
It led to a nightmare. It was so, so much more different than the same recurring one about the stupid revolver.
It was dark. Pitch black. But yet he felt them. All of them, each and every one of them. They were all watching him. Friends he'd made and lost, family he'd loved and lost, people his heart still clung onto, and people he had yet to meet. Everyone he was destined to lose. It made him curl into himself, as if he could escape this. Hide from it, protect himself from what's already happened and what's yet to come.
Why? Why? Why? Why?
They chanted that single word question, as if it would bring him to an answer, their voices gradually getting louder and louder until it was all ringing and echoing in his ears, stamping all of it onto his very soul, tears streaming down his face as he heard the revolver clatter against the ground before him.
He knew what the question was. Why do you get to live, but we had to die? Why are you more special than us? Why did you deserve to live? Why didn't you protect us? Why aren't you joining us? Why? Why? Why? Why?
Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?
Why? I don't know why... Why am I still alive? Why doesn't this gun ever work? Why don't I ever join them?
Even as he held it to his head and uselessly pulled at the trigger over and over and over again as the voices consumed him, he quickly realized the answer.
Because it was all in his head.
He didn't recall much of being conscious. Sometimes being asleep felt more real than being awake did. So, he didn't remember how it happened, but a revolver, a genuine one, empty, unloaded, appeared underneath his pillow, right underneath the mattress.
Whether or not he'd recall the reality of the situation was a story for the next morning...
Hello, um, sir.
I.. I've heard, certain things about you, Tallmadge.
About, things that aren't entirely there.. some even say you're mad...
Iβ how do you handle it..? Not just what people say about your behavior, but.. what goes on in your head..
How do you handle things you know aren't there..? How do you keep yourself from going insane?
β @dylan-athenazephyrs
Hello, sir.
... Hm. Well, at least regarding what people say, generally I must disregard them, because they do not understand.
The only constant that I know is not real is.. him.. the most horrible thing I ever have imagined, and unfortunately, there is not much to do other than ignore it and remind myself that he is really only there to make things worse. I hate him.....
I think my lack of insanity is due to my knowledge and awareness of both the unreal and real.
I hope this provides some sense of peace for you.
...No, it's not that. I can tell it's not real, that my mind is making it up. That's what makes me feel like I'm going insane..
I hear it, I hear them, I see things I know aren't real, and it's overwhelming, because I know they're dead. They've been dead, and hearing and seeing them must mean I'mβ going insane, right??
Sometimes I can hardly hear anything other than their voices. I feel like I'm going insane...
The morning started like many of them did, waking up from a dream he couldn't help but wish was real. It would stop that hopeless feeling that was seeping into his bones. It would stop the voices.
He smiled slightly feeling Coral pressed against him, curled up and clinging onto him. For a moment every morning, he could try and pretend everything would be alright.
Athena's voice was added on top of theirs. Maybe it was knowing Coral was still with him, maybe it was something else entirely, but his wife's quiet, soothing voice that'd once instilled fear in him was another voice his mind was using again to mess with him.
After that talk with M, that recurring and seemingly endless dream about that stupid revolver felt less and less frequent. It was still there, obviously. Maybe it would always be there.
He only had a few options here. Continue trying to live, even though all the people who deserved to live just as much were clinging onto his soul like a leech. Or, let their absence consume him, and join them. He hadn't resorted to that yet, but maybe it was only a manner of time..
Eventually, when it seems there aren't many others around and the commotion has died down (for now), Dylan approached her, his voice the slightest bit rough from a lack of use as he spoke up, though it still held warmth, his eyes unconsciously going to the bandaged wound on her arm before he forced himself to look at her face.
Excuse me young lady. Er.. will you be alright? I know that was likely frightening to handle... From what I heard, anyway.
His demeanor was the slightest bit awkward, as if uncertain just what to say, which was, understandable, considering the circumstances they were both under to get to the medical tent in the first place.
β @dylan-athenazephyrs
*M sighs.*
It was, but I'll live. Hopefully.
...If you don't like eye contact, you don't have to make yourself look me in the eyes.
Dylan blinked, his gaze going downcast before he could stop on himself, tugging unconsciously tugging his braid to try and pull himself together, but the way he did it was never worked as well as it did when Athena did it. He shouldn't have been missing her, not after everything she did to himβ
He tensed, as if seeing or feeling something nearby others couldn't, his shoulders shaking more than they should've as he tried to shake it off, sighing before finally managing to say something else, now starting to wish he hadn't started this conversation. Maybe it would've been better to listen to his dreams, evenβ
I..I'm sorry, I'm just not used to, to talking to people after.. after everything...
The way he trailed off made it more than obvious he had more to say, but the look on his face suggested he didn't want anyone knowing about it, and he didn't want to bother the poor girl with his own issues, and considering this was Dylan it was likely for an incredibly stupid reason..
β π«
It's okay... I understand. I heard a bit about what happened.
*M doesn't force him to say anything.*
Dylan would've been relieved at how she didn't try to pry, but he was more focused on how they had to start up now.
Five, four, three, two, one. It never worked. Because it was never there. Maybe it never would, or maybe he was just too much of a coward to die.
They're not there.. they're not there...
He tried to keep himself together, even when the sound of the pistol's stupid clicking kept going and going, tugging onto his braid a little harder when he heard one of them talking over the revolver's noise. And then another one of them, and then another, and then all he could hear was his family, soft spoken, loving, affection words and gestures received by a boy or young man that didn't deserve it. Not when he couldn't even protect any of them.
Stop, stop, stop.. don't think, don't think, don't think...
He was either incredibly close to a breakdown, a panic attack(?), or rushing off like a frightened animal, or a secret fourth option, and while around them the tent may have been quiet, whatever was going on in Dylan's mind was far from it, if the way he was acting wasn't evidence enough.
He was so distracted he'd forgotten he wasn't alone. It was clear to an outsider's eye, that something was wrong..
...Mr. Dylan? Mr. Dylan! Can you hear me?
*M's incredibly concerned, and it shows.*
Stop, stop, stop, they're not here, they're dead, they're dead, they're dead, you're not hearing them..
You're hearing them because you're going insane. Only madmen cling onto what can't be held.
He blinked when her voice briefly cut through the haze of voices he longed to hear again despite knowing he never would.
I-I.. God, I can't do this anymore..
He sunk to the floor, a depressing and pathetic sight, added onto by the fact he was shaking like a leaf in the wind, looking as though the gentlest breeze could send him onto the floor further, still tugging on his braid in useless, weak attempts to pull himself together, their voices still ringing in his ears.
Iβ I feel like I'm going insane, m-maybe I amβ they're all there, it's there, I can see it, a-and them, but I knowβ I know they're not there.. sometimes I can't even tell what's real and what isn't anymore...
Hey, hey... Listen to me. Breathe in for 4 seconds, hold it for 4 seconds, and exhale for 4 seconds. Can you do that? I can do it with you if you need me to.
But first... Can I touch you?
*M isn't going to touch him immediately, especially with how overwhelmed he is. She's speaking gently.*
Dylan nodded, trying to focus on something other than their voices, like her voice, the sound of his heart thudding in his chest, his shaking breathing as he tried to breathe the way she instructed him to, shrinking in place hearing the stupid clicking of that gun he always saw. The one he was always using that never worked.
Why was it only ever something his mind was making up? Why was that stupid thing never working, anyway?
Alright, try breathing like that a few more times.
*M gently removes Dylan's hand from his braid.*
Dylan listened, his heart slowing down as he calmed down enough to think, even with the noise still blaring in his mind, hiccupping as he calmed down enough to cry, still trying to slow down his breathing.
They were still there, but they didn't feel as overwhelming. At least for now.
Are you feeling a little better now? Breathe like that again a few more times if you need to.
*M rummages through her bag, and fishes out a small bag of candies. It's the last of her snacks, but she's not going to tell Dylan that.*
Here, you can have these.
He blinked unconsciously reminded of the first time they met seeing the bag, holding it a little more carefully than he needed to as he took it, wiping at his eyes as he tried to pull himself together again, though it wasn't proving to be very successful.
Thank you..
He ate one, letting out another shaky breath before quietly offering one to M, a silent gesture of his appreciation, even when he wasn't entirely put together enough to say it properly.
