“Hey, are you going to just sleep?” Inigo questioned, blinking slowly when he shot the male a curious look. The raven was clearly not going to shower, despite the wet clothes clinging to him. The rain held like… germs in there, didn’t it? He really didn’t feel any remorse, didn’t he? Well, they were paying for the room, which also meant that they were paying for the sheets to be cleaned the next day, so he supposed it was alright.
With a conceding groan, he turned around from the raven’s bed, and pouted to himself as he made his way toward the haphazard pile of clothes. Unfortunately, they weren’t exactly fashionable, nor flattering for him— if anything, they looked like appropriately sized sacks. Was he a potato sack now? He sincerely hoped that his clothes would dry by the morning…
Sighing, he slipped the towel around his waist off, but kept his smallclothes intact. (He would be too embarrassed to go ‘commando’ when there was someone else in the room… let alone, at all with the exception of taking a shower or a bath.) Reluctantly, he held the brown clothing in his hands, and inspected it to note the material used to make them. It was actually quite soft, which came as a surprise to him. “I’m surprised they had clothes for us to borrow, Owain.” Inigo remarked, not caring if he wouldn’t heed him with half-lidded eyes and evident weariness. He put the shirt and its matching bottom on, glad to see that it wasn’t a single sack like he thought.
Maybe he was just getting sleepy.
Now fully clothed, he glanced at the other bed he would sleep in tonight. By now, he knew that the storm probably stopped, and it was completely viable to flee back to the camp and sleep in his own cot. Unfortunately, he did have to admit that these were probably far more luxurious than what he was used to, since it was rare that he ever slept in an actual bed. (He hadn’t done it since he met the Shepherds, that was. When he traveled from village in two year’s time, it was spent either in inns or out in the woods. Sometimes someone’s chair.)
He understood why Owain decide to fall into the grasps of slumber at this point, and decided to do the same. Practically jumping into the bed, he let out a hefty yawn as Inigo collapsed beneath the sheets. Allowing his eyes to shut, he fell into the land of dreams.
⊰☼⊱—; The next time he awoke, Owain couldn’t tell how much time had passed, neither did he use the effort to really try looking, though the effort would only be in vain anyway due to the ever persisting rain but considering it had been another of his nightmares that woke him up he figured it would’ve been several hours. Sometime during his sleep, he must have turned over, since the first thing he saw instead of the wall had been Inigo - at first, studying the other until Owain remembered where they were stuck in, along with the storm. Heart hammering against his chest, he got up, and began to pace around the tiny room to try to calm himself down.
In his restless dreams, he can still recall his parent’s deaths. The memories surrounding the last moment of his father were hazy now, one scene changing to another as the years passed, but always were their most clear in the end as his young self could only stare up in terror; and watching as the one person he didn’t think could ever fail in some way died before his mother could reach him after he ran to get her. But his mother’s death had been the most crystal clear, since instead of it occurring while he had still been a child, it instead happened while they were all fighting to travel to the past. She too wanted to help but...she would eventually join along with the rest of the original Shepherds. Owain told himself that if he had moved faster, or reacted quickly, these could’ve been prevented, and from that the wound never truly healed. And so the nightmares would continue.
No, the pacing certainly isn’t working. Perhaps the soggy clothing didn’t either, though when it’s drenched along with his sweat now, well... He shed the outerwear, picking up the borrowed clothing to wear instead, and draping the rest over the back of a chair that he took a seat in. It’d be impossible to sleep again now, and at first Owain reached for where he typically kept his journal to write the time away but found he failed to bring it; it would have been a soggy mess anyway, and attempts at finding any loose scraps anywhere near ended up as a negative as well. Luckily Inigo didn’t appear to have woken up, and Owain paid a glance at the other’s form on the bed, since the myrmidon had worked on not making the nightmares so obvious (if that could be considered a positive thing). He didn’t want to just sit there with nothing to do however...
So he began to hum a simple melody, his fingers interwoven with each other, and watching the rain that continued to pour but thankfully the thunder itself seemed to have ended. When he figured Inigo wouldn’t go waking up anytime soon, that’s when he added lyrics. “Moon river, wider than a mile, I’m crossing you in style some day,” Owain sang, avoiding an increase in volume, his voice still groggy. “Oh dream maker, you heart breaker, wherever you’re going I’m going your way.”
