"........................ oops."
Your character walks in on mine waking from a nightmare.
It was late. As in late in the morning when people were actually getting up to go to work or whatever they did with their lives. Roughly about 7:30 was the time, or that’s what Loki thought he saw when he plopped onto his bed sleepily to catch a few simple hours of rest before he forced himself away.
This wasn’t out of the ordinary for him. Unicorn did his absolute best to get as little sleep as possible due to nightmares (unless he’d worked out that day, then he got more sleep than usual for different reasons), which meant he downed coffee every waking moment and granted himself a max of five hours of sleep and nothing more. Typically, his body didn’t dream if he’d been sleep deprived, and if he did he never remembered it when he eventually awoke.
So him crashing at roughly 7:30 in the morning wasn’t uncommon or even strange, even Keir could admit he was far used to it by that point (he actually had a normal sleep schedule, however).
However, something happened. Perhaps he didn’t have the energy to wake himself or maybe he’d slept through his multiple alarms, but either way Loki did not wake when he was “supposed to” and he ended up sleeping much, much longer than he had intended.
It was about three in the afternoon when Liesmith arrived to a surprisingly quiet, empty house. Keir wasn’t even there to greet him (and who the fuck knows where he’d gone off to, perhaps some sort of business).
At the same time, Loki began to twitch in his sleep, a faint, muffled-by-sleep whine rolling in his throat. “Stop,” he said in a whisper, brows furrowing in his sleep as he continued to twitch about, body shifting, twisting slightly, as if he were trying to get away from something. A hand had slipped up and his nails began to scratch roughly, deeply at the portion of flesh just above his lips, as if something were there. The scratch marks were seemingly harmless at first, but eventually the skin began to color red out of irritation and eventually it was almost raw.
He was scratching frantically by the time Liesmith had made it up to his room. The whines continued, as did the twitching and shaking, and the destructive scratching didn’t seem any closer to stopping, until suddenly his eyes opened wide, hand clamping down on his aching mouth.
