#either answer is in character for roven

[sparrowwritings]

Day Eleven: Dreams

Day Ten -- Masterpost -- Day Twelve

Over a century after Shaking

Being the first to fall asleep at a campsite when you barely knew the other person you were travelling with was a risky move. Gwion knew this. He’d been around for far too long *not* to. And yet, when his current travelling companion, Roven, insisted that he would take first watch Gwion didn’t fight it. He set up magical wards around the camp because he wasn’t an idiot, but he still was the first to go to bed. 

What he didn’t expect, however, was to be woken up a while before first watch was over.

“You were muttering in your sleep. I couldn’t concentrate on my notes because of it.” Roven explained.

Gwion suspected that he was only telling half the truth, but he was too awake to try to turn over and try again at slumber. Still, he didn’t hide his eye roll. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to disturb your *ever so important* writing. I’ll try to keep my unconscious ramblings to myself in the future.” His voice dripped of sarcasm.

“So we have an accord.” The other man nodded before going back to his writing. Gwion *could* have pointed out that the entire idea of keeping watch was to pay attention to their *surroundings*, but on top of his own wards were finely crafted ones that had Roven’s magical signature all over them. Even if something *were* to try to disturb them, one of the two mages would take care of it in a heartbeat.

For a while, the only sounds that were made in the campsite were from the fire. Gwion tossed another log in and watched the shapes the flames made as it started to consume the fresh wood. Images from the dreams he’d had that night played out in miniature among the embers. 

It wasn’t until Roven coughed that Gwion realized that he had been far too drawn into his own mind. His hands ached and he released his elbows from them. He stretched and curled them over and over until the pain settled down. “*Dare* I ask what’s consuming your thoughts?” The other man’s green eyes glittered oddly in the fire’s light. “You’re uncharacteristically quiet tonight.”

“Most people, myself included, tend to be *asleep* at this hour.” It was a legitimate excuse, for sure, but from the narrowing of Roven’s eyes he could see that his own bullshit wasn’t going to be enough to waylay the man. Gwion tried a different tactic. “I may not know you all that well *personally*, but those of us who sleep on a more regular basis have these unconscious hallucinations called *dreams*.” He wiggled his fingers to emphasise the word. “And the one I woke up from required further examination.”

For a moment, it seemed like this was sufficient. They both went back to being quiet for long enough that he felt safe in returning to his own thoughts.

“So I *shouldn’t* ask about why you were muttering about *giants* in your sleep?” The words cut ribbons through his cool and collected exterior. He normally had a better poker face, but in the face of this verbal attack Gwion couldn’t help but grimace. “I’ve remembered where I heard the name Gwion before.” Roven leaned forward, letting the fire give him an infernal appearance. “The stories of Gwion Giantkiller are juvenile, but old enough to provide an interesting insight into this world’s history. That the hero of such stories is still *alive*, so long after they were first told…”

“If you’re looking for immortality, only the gods have that.” He barked back. Folding his arms again, he looked away from the glittering green stare. “What *I* have is a cursed existence.”

“Many would say that having such a long life is a blessing.”

“Those fools don’t know the cost of living far past when one should have died.”

Roven gave another narrow-eyed stare. “Other fools would use their extended time to perform unnecessary heroics.”

“Saving people is *always* necessary.”

“Yes, because interfering in the affairs of a few people at a time does *so* much in the long term. If your goal is truly to help others and not just to provide yourself suicide opportunities, there are much better options available to you.”

Gwion finally faced the other man. “Oh really? And what, pray tell, are you proposing?”

Here Roven stood, finally having the opportunity to tower over Gwion for once. “Join me in my research of this world. You’ve had a century to travel the whole of Carégarn, surely spending a few more years travelling it again to crack open its secrets isn’t too much to ask.” Those glittering green eyes seemed dark against the fire that reflected from them. “And once all is said and done, I will ensure that you reach the end you’re looking for.”

The two stared each other in the eye for a long while. Then, slowly, Gwion stood up. He didn’t break his gaze as he spoke. “Swear on what’s most important to you if you mean what you say. I’ll not agree to anything otherwise.”

Without hesitation, Roven stated, “I swear on my life.”

After another moment of hesitation, he held his hand across the fire. “Then I agree. I’ll stay with you until either your life ends or you end mine.”

The smooth skin of Roven’s hand wasn’t a surprise, but the strength of his handshake was. “So it shall be,” He responded with a mad grin. There was finality in that statement, but it was too late.

Gwion was now bound to the man. For better or worse.