sorry about the blood in your mouth [closed to meera] [september 24th, late night]
Normally Jojen would wince at the nickname, hush his older sister with a glare but tonight he’s not himself, feeling thin and small and his hair is curling with sweat, sticking to the back of his neck. He burrows himself under Meera’s bed covers, glad she’s not sharing her bed with someone else tonight—he doesn’t know what he would do if Meera wasn’t with him. He’s always been an odd child, green eyes too big for his thin face and dreams that would plague his nights.
The dreams have spread out much further over the last two years, but each one is still incredibly vivid. Their mam says it’s because he’s always hovered a little closer to the veil than most people. Jojen, over the years, hasn’t ever fully believed the theory, but he knows his dreams come from something greater than himself.
Meera presses a kiss to the top of Jojen’s head and he presses his chin into her shoulder, lets her hold him until he’s stopped shaking. This is the first time he’s had a dream like this since leaving Scotland—one so bad he feels lightheaded after, his bones like liquid and not in the way Tommen makes him feel—this is a different kind of weakness in his marrow. “I had a dream about a wolf,” he says finally, when his voice has returned him, thick and cottony.
Jojen doesn't even nudge her for pulling out the old nickname, and it's that more than anything that makes Meera worry. She curls closer, stroking his fingers through his hair, the curls sticking to her knuckles with sweat. Meera swallows hard and tells him to breathe, murmurs that it's okay and she's here and he's safe. He is safe. She might not be able to promise him much, but she can promise him that much. As long as they're together, they'll look out for each other. No matter what. She's glad she's alone tonight, that she hasn't wanted to bring anyone home in weeks. There's only been one or two nights that she wasn't where Jojen needed her to be when he needed her, but those nights eat away at her still. Texts aren't the same as hugs and soft words.
Once he's stopped shaking, his chin dug into her shoulder and making her bones grind (though she won't complain, because even though it hurts, she doesn't want to spook him), he tells her what happened. Meera furrows her brow and scratches his scalp a little, gentle, thinking about the statement.
Their family has always been deeply involved in spirituality, though they've never participated in any organized religion. Meera's known how to read tarot since she was just a little girl and Jojen's dreams, though they've never really had an explanation for where they come from, have always seemed to come from somewhere far more powerful than himself. Their mam says it's because he's closer to the veil than most -- Meera believes that, understands what Mam means when she says it. Jojen is special. He has a peculiar understanding of the world that no one else does. And Meera worries for him because of it, spends extra time smudging the flat and burning lavender when he's stressed to make sure everything is alright.
"Do you want to tell me about it?" she asks. A dream about a wolf could mean a lot of things, she knows. Though she also knows that given how close they are to the Stark family, wolves always hit far too close to home.
