The man, not the legend.

That's right. Steve might suddenly be a rather hard sleeper in Viatorus' body, especially if he has to drink special magic tea. Steve nods and sits on the side of the bed to demonstrate.

"Get him upright into a sitting position, leaning slightly forward if he doesn't fight you. He should have the inhaler I got for him. He needs to depress it while he breathes in as deep as he can. Hold it for a few seconds, then slowly exhale. You might have to talk him through it if he's panicking though. Otherwise..." Steve reaches back with one lanky arm and indicates between his shoulder blades. "You can whack him on the back a few times to clear his airways enough if he can't inhale to use the medicine."

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Viatorus nods as he listens, taking in every detail and rubbing his bound wrists as he does so. It seems simple enough... but it also seems like a lot of responsibility to deal with.

"I can remember that..." He tries to relax and not look so serious as he offers, "You can rest easy on your own if you like. I can keep an eye on him, and get you if there's a problem. I think you both need to grab as much sleep as you can."

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"Whatever makes Harrow most comfortable would be best. I really don't mind." Steve shrugs his shoulders and gets back up. He is getting tired remarkably quickly, but tries to ignore it for the time being. He still needs to clean himself up, after all.

"It shouldn't be an issue. I don't get attacks that frequently, but being afraid of them is natural, especially for Harrow." Standing makes it better. He thought he'd pass out on the spot when he was sitting in the bed. It's like a siren calling for him to lay down. just for a minute. Steve shakes his head.

"What will you do? I'd hate to leave you be all night..."

Edited (Shift keyyyyyy!!!) Date: 2016-01-26 12:57 am (UTC)

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"It's still good to know what to do," Viatorus points out. "Knowledge reassures all of us. Gives us... some control over this. Besides, we need to help each other, like you said."

The question gets a shrug and some more gentle fidgeting. "I'm not sure. If I can't sleep I guess... I guess I'll do some reading. See if I can find anything that might help us. When else will I get to read uninterrupted like this? I should probably take advantage of it."

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"You're right." Steve nods along, offering Viatorus a faint smile. "I'd probably do the same in your situation, eheh. If you have to force yourself to wake up form sleep, that sounds kind of scary. I'd rather read or sketch or the like."

Sounds too much like falling and being unable to get back up for Steve's comfort. Although...

"Speaking of sketching, I almost wonder if they'd look more like your style if I tried to draw. Obviously I have my style in my head, but your hands would have the muscle memory from your sketches, not mine. Oh wow. That sounds really interesting...." Steve is much too tired to worry about such things tonight, but it is a quesiton that is going to stick with him.

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Harrow IS all done getting cleans! He follows the others' voices into the bedroom and proudly arrives in a pair of Steve's jamjams looking positively pleased. His skin is still slightly red from the heat of the shower, but other than his hair – which he's slicked back, making him look decidedly less Steve-like – he's dry.

"Showers are good and cool and I like 'em," he decides with total confidence. And then, before anyone else gets a say in what happens next he hurries over to the bed and takes a flying leap into it, where he lays sprawled out like a starfish. Slooowly he sinks into the comfortable bed, and he smiles as it takes him.

"This is swanky as hell. I get to sleep here, right?"

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It's a nice change from all of this anxiety to see Steve perk up at the thought of something. Viatorus smiles and suggests, "If we have to go home tomorrow I'll show you where I keep my old art supplies there. You can take some time to try things out while I look through old journals."

No sooner is that said, Harrrowheart arrives and jumps on the bet, prompting a startled laugh from Viatorus. "A-Actually, there's another bedroom if you'd like it. But Steve has to sleep here." He points up at the engraving on the wooden canopy. "He has to sleep under that."

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"I don't mind sharing Harrow. The bed's big enough for two." Steve smiles faintly and waves before he too takes a turn for the bathroom, carrying the pajamas Viatorus had laid out for him. True to his word, Steve does his best to be as quick as he can in taking care of his hygiene needs. It's really for the best that there is no tub because he would almost certainly fall asleep in it.

The shower enables him to be prompt and more importantly, to stay awake. Then its just the matter of putting on the pajamas and toweling off V's thick hair as best as he can before he wanders out again.

Something about tea and then bed. Is the tea necessary? Steve doesn't need any help falling asleep. He could probably do that standing up at this point. It takes him a moment to remember where he needs to go but he'll head back into the bedroom.

"All done..."

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When Steve leaves, Harrow looks up at what V motioned to. Runes above the bed! Harrow's very first instinct is to roll off the bed, and he finds it's surprisingly easy to land on his feet when his legs aren't ten miles long. He's able to escape, though, and so they must not have been runes to trap intruders. Sensing that there isn't any danger he very carefully crawls back into the bed and looks up at the carvings once more.

"What exactly do they do?"

He smiles to see Steve return and pats the bed. Join your body in the boudoir, Steve.

"And Steve, I promise I won't make it weird. I had to share a bed a whole lot smaller than this growin' up, I know how it goes. No stealin' blankets, no talkin' in the middle of the night, and mind your hands."

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The reaction surprises Viatorus but other than blinking a little at the rolling away, he doesn't react much. It does take him a second to answer though. "It's protective. It keeps things out."

Steve gets a smile and Viatorus nods, rubbing at his wrists again. "I'll go and make your tea." Then he looks to Harrowheart. "Would you like anything? Tea? Milk? Orange juice?"

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"I wasn't worried." Steve's reply is pleasant but drowsy. He nods politely at Viatorus's offer of the tea and then sits down on the bed. Harrowheart gets a sidelong glance from Steve, and then a faint smile. "I'll be here in case anything happens. You've got your inhaler I packed for you?" He's sure the other does so he doesn't worry much.

The bed is remarkably comfy. Maybe. Yeah Steve stretches out a bit. That's better. He'll just...just rest his eyes until Viatorus comes back.

Shouldn't be but...a...minute....

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To the question of his inhaler Harrow grunts in the affirmative. It's someplace within arm's reach... if anyone can summon the will to move in this bed, that is. Is it only so comfortable because it's been so long since his body needed sleep? Could there really be this much of a difference between a good bed and everything he's ever known? Maybe Steve's body just really likes sleep.

It's scary to think about, though, despite all of the excitement. Sleeping is a little bit like dying. What if he dreams? What if they're unpleasant? As his eyelids begin to droop the image of the rune atop the bed slowly fades into darkness. It's there to protect from bad things. That means bad dreams. That means it's safe to sleep.

Sleep. And when he wakes up, all of this will be over...

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The incredibly comfy bed does have something to do with the fine bedclothes, perfect mattress and specially chosen pillows. No expense is spared for the Dreamwalker's bed. Who else knows the value of a good night's rest more? And, of course, it's all perfectly tailored to bring sweet and numerous dreams... Even though he never does any dreaming there.

Viatorus meanwhile, is pottering about the kitchen. When he does make the cup of tea he just about finishes when a thought interrupts him. He's pretty sure he saw a magnificent looking book on possession or bodyswapping or something along those lines in the library. If he could grab it, or read through it, it might help them immensely. As long as nobody has taken it out... He glances out the window. Late as it is, the library has no reason to close. Maybe he could just dash out and read through it. Steve and Harrowheart are safe here, and he doesn't have to be long...

He brings the mug in and sets it on the bedside locker, rushing to grab keys for the apartment so that he can lock them in and let himself back inside. "I won't be a minute, I've just remembered something that might help. I'll be as quick as I can. Lyall is there if you need anything. Remember to drink the tea!"

Does he notice that the two of them have fallen asleep? No. Everything is weird in this body. He doesn't understand half the things he's seeing and hearing.

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Viatorus' warnings have fallen on deaf ears. Steve is already curled up under the duvet letting darkness wash over him in a gentle wave. There's a sense of drifting in the inky blackness, of things moving and shifting beyond what Steve can see. He's not aware, not at first. Just existing in this sea of the Unconscious feeling the ebb and flow of the collective tide.

It wants to drag him off. Somewhere else--away from here. That is the first sensation Steve has. He doesn't want to do that. It's nice here. As nondescript as here is. He begins wading into shore, enjoying how effortless the decision seems to have made his movements. His clothes aren't wet in the least, which is good. These old hand me down suits are paper thin under the best of circumstances.

Rather than a beach, Steve finds himself inside almost as soon as he's out of the water. The creaky floors are familiar. Up three flights past Mrs. Nelson's door. He'll have to thank her for allowing him to use her sewing machine later, when they have a little extra after rent. Someone's selling papers outside--Steve can hear them through the window as soon as he lets himself into the apartment. Bucky's not home yet, but somehow Steve doesn't feel like the place is empty.

And sure enough, there's a knock on the door. How long was he waiting? He can't tell, and it hardly matters. It's still bright outside. Steve heads for the door.

"Harrow? It didn't take you long I hope. You ready for that tour I promised you?" It's the most natural thing in the world. He'd been meaning to show Harrow his world, and now's the perfect time to. Harrow's in his own body,a s is Steve, and why wouldn't they be?

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Steve's apartment. Of course. The layout isn't the same as he remembers, but it isn't different, foreign. This is Steve's apartment, new and exciting. Though he couldn't remember the exact moment when he set his meeting with Steve he was certain he must have done it. To be greeted at the door like this felt right.

He smiles at the sight of his friend and nods at the offer of the tour, but he doesn't invite himself in. Something tells him he can't see this place until Steve will let him.

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It's smaller, much smaller. And everything is done in cream and brown hues. Steve steps aside and pulls Harrow in after a moment.

"Come on, I'll show ya around here first, before we head out. My ma's place was a little bigger, but not much. I couldn't afford it after she passed on." There's hooks up behind the door covered in suit coats and hats, and a narrow hallway that leads to a tiny kitchenette slash bedroom, with an itty bitty bathroom off around the corner. The place is cramped but homey, obviously well lived in. And at the end of the bed, jammed up along the wall next to a dresser is a small writing desk, with a couple of Steve's sketchbooks sitting on it.

"Eh? Not bad for a coupla bachelors doing odd jobs day to day, right?"

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Inside of an Earth home. Steve's Earth home. This is an exotic place to be sure, no matter how familiar the setting may seem after some of the things Harrow's seen in the Nexus. He wanders through the dreamscape behind Steve, mindful not to touch anything as he absorbs the memory of this place. What he sees as he looks around brings a soft smile to his face. It is a nice place for two bachelors, he thinks, and though he doesn't appear to open his mouth to say those words Steve ought to be fully aware of this opinion.

He lingers curiously near the sketchbooks but doesn't attempt to touch them, then returns to quietly examining the room. The sight of the bed makes him smile, and though again he doesn't open his mouth he seems to be laughing. Without speaking he thinks aloud "I wanted to make a joke that sharing a bed wouldn't be strange if you imagined it was like back home, but I'd be the Steve and you'd be the Bucky. I didn't realize you only had one bed."

Harrow looks around, suddenly very conscious that someone else does live here. Where is he? Will he arrive?

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"Hm? Oh, the bed. It used to be a couple of cots, but it got so damn cold in the winter that we ended up shoving them together anyway. Bucky's mom was getting rid of some old stuff, so we decided it'd be easier to just toss them and put a bed in there." Steve shrugs, easy as can be. With space a premium, it ended up being more efficient that way, and it's not like Steve ever had to worry about bringing a dame home.

The expectation of another person washes over Steve, and he turns to look out the window. It'd be nice if it wasn't...it's not winter outside. The leaves are all shades of yellow and orange. A smile breaks out across Steve's face.

"Come on. It's not far, I'll show you where I go to school and we can see if Buck's done at the factory yet or not."

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Factory. Harrow doesn't understand, but he doesn't ask. If he's going to see it soon he doesn't matter that he knows what that word means now. He smiles too at the sight of the warm-colored leaves. It's a city, sure, but the colors remind him of home. He hold out a hand for Steve to guide him by. He's full of all Steve's energy to see the school – a place that might as well be as foreign as a factory to him.

"I've never gone to school," he says-thinks. Under normal circumstances he might be ashamed of that, but somehow here he doesn't feel that way. This is a pleasant place and it fills him with honesty and positivity. "Will you tell me what you study?"

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The details aren't quite right, but for the moment Steve doesn't question it. Dreams are never exactly right. They're outside almost instantly, walking down the busy sidewalks past cars as big as boats. Harrow will smell popcorn on the brisk autumn breeze, and more than a couple people say hello to Steve and harrow as they pass by.

And really, the most odd remark they give Harrow is that he ought to get a coat. But all in jest. All friendly. That's admittedly some wishful thinking on Steve's part. He likes the camaraderie of the Nexus. Wishes it was more like that back home. The nondescript brick building Steve points out a few blocks down from them yet looks empty today.

"I take art classes there. Every other evening cept' Sunday." It's taken him longer to get a degree since he can only attend classes when they have the money to spare for tuition. But Steve is all smiles as he leads Harrow down another street. The gridlike pattern of New York city is easy to navigate. "I haven't seen how much the city has changed since I lived here." Steve admits as they walk. "I hope it still has the charm of this one."

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So much warmth and goodness in this place. Brooklyn is a city of peace and prosperity for sure. Every sight and smell conjures up implications of things he can't see and fills Harrow's unaware mind with a vivid sense of depth of reality in this dream. He smiles at people in kind as they smile at him, but for the most part keeps his hands to himself and follows Steve, mindful not to bump into anyone or anything.

And there's the art building! He nods seriously but doesn't feel very serious as he does it. His thoughts are occupied with a desire to see the place, though the scenery changes quickly and he forgets that small wish as soon as the dream shifts around him.

"I think any place you go will be charming and friendly. You have that effect on people," Harrow think-says with a bright smile.

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A thought occurs to Steve as the shifting autumn sky sends leaves blowing around their feet. They make a rustling that seems to echo off the tall buildings that are reaching up to the sky. But not in Azerothian smooth towers and spirals. Blocky buildings of brick and metal.

"Is this the first dream you've had since you became an undead?" Because Steve knows they're dreaming, now. It took a while for it to dawn on him, but now that it has he wonders how he missed it, with the way everything is fuzzy around the edges. He concentrates harder, and they're approaching the Brooklyn Bridge from the bank of the East river. Steve points out at it.

"That's the bridge I'm always sketching." Things are shifting, moving around him as Steve thinks. An old movie theater with news reels running updates on the war effort. "Here's the theater I got beat up behind."

Edited Date: 2016-01-30 01:03 am (UTC)

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Dreaming? This place? Harrow looks around, confused and yet suspiciously content. When his eyes land on Steve again he laughs quietly, and with it comes a casual shrug. "If this was a dream I couldn't be here. You said you'd show me Brooklyn, remember?" He doesn't remember the exact moment Steve said it, of course, but he believes it to be real. It's been too long since he's had to separate dreams and reality, and this is such a pleasant one, no matter which it is.

He marvels quietly at the bridge, hands in his pockets, and spends a breath imagining the smell of the water and the metal and stone and all the people who make up the city. By the end of his breath they're at a movie theatre. It's so well-suited for movies! The seats are all tiered just slightly, the screen is so big. What a wonderful place to enjoy movies. He imagines how it must feel for the room to be full. Strangers all around in the darkness. Would they talk like they do when he shows movies, or would they keep their thoughts to themselves? Hopefully not the latter.

"Those people who hurt you, are they still here? We could get even," he suggests, his tone as friendly as it was before.

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"I don't remember what they look like. I got beat up a lot. After a while all bullies start to look the same." Steve dismisses it with a wave of his hand, though for a brief moment--as though he couldn't help but remembering--there's the alley and the trash can lid sitting at their feet like a discarded shield. Steve's nose is bleeding, he's got a black eye. But there's a yell and a holler from the alley entrance.

"Hey, punk! What'd I tell ya about hanging out back here?" There's worry in the man's voice, and as soon as he trots over he gives Harrow a once over. "You're bringin' tourists home now Stevie?" He extents a hand immediately. "James Barnes. You can call me Bucky."

"Or Jerk."

"Stuff it, Rogers."

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