The Things That Go Bump in the Night (Madame La Déchante)

Richard trudged to his room with a heavy heart and heavier eyelids. With his self-imposed vigil over, he found himself both yearning and dreading the promise of sleep. He nudged open the door to his room with a foot and somehow managed to stay upright as he shoved it shut again before shuffling over to and collapsing onto his bed.

Instantly, he found himself standing in his family home as it burned, and his head ached from the metaphorical whiplash. There was the sound of glass shattering, and a familiar sickly sweet smell permeated the air. Smoke tore angry chunks out of his lungs and he coughed violently. He could hear the sounds of people fighting, but this...

This wasn't right.

Before he could remember why, though, he was racing down the hallway, barefoot and shivering despite the flames that hungrily reached towards his skin. His feet blistered from the heat and still he ran to his brother's room, yanking the door open. Benediktas, only slightly younger then, blearily jolted awake, the sudden intake of breath sending him into a coughing fit. Richard took a moment to thank his father for making him suffer through hours of physical training as he hoisted his brother onto his shoulders and darted back into the hallway.

He needed to find father too. That could come later, though. He stumbled down the hallway intent on sparing his brother from the blistering pain his feet were dealing with, and cast a passing glance over the collapsed stairwells. They were too high up to jump to the first floor, so he wheeled around and began running, the house heaving and shifting in time with his frantic breathing. The sounds of violence downstairs increased, there were shouts of alarm. None of that mattered. He needed to find father, and needed to get Benediktas out. The balcony could do, there were trellises to climb down: he and Benediktas had snuck out that very route many times.

A great chasm opened before them as he ran: a chunk of the ceiling fell through the floor with little more than a groan and the sound of firewood shifting, amplified many times over. He skidded to a stop, kicking up embers in the process. The balcony door was just on the other side, and he snarled fearfully at the unfairness of it all. Sweat dripped down both brothers, and while Benediktas heaved great, gasping breaths through the back of his robe, he could scarcely breathe. Wide-eyed vision now tinging black around the edges, Richard weighed his options for a single moment. He raised his voice, hoarse from smoke, so his brother could hear him over the roar of the flames.

"If I say jump, leap as far as you can. Get on the balcony, get down, get to safety. If you do not see father or me within ten minutes, go to the Kairys house, they like us well enough and will probably let you stay should the worst happen."

"Brother, w-what are you going to do?"

"Remember how you said you always wanted to fly, Benediktas? Now would be a good time for that wish of yours to be true.

And with that, he sprinted the distance between him and the chasm, soaring through the air. For a moment, there was silence, the action suspended as time slowed to a crawl. It was almost peaceful.

He wasn't going to make it.

"Jump Benediktas!" His voice was muffled, he realized. As if speaking underwater. He was going to fall. He accepted that as his brother launched himself off his back, clearing the chasm with scarcely an inch to spare. With a sickening 'thud', time and sound resumed their normal progression, and he landed on the ground floor. With a groan, he braced himself with his hands and pushed himself up. It was at that moment he realized he couldn't feel one of them. It was the moment following that he realized his hand was now merely a mess of melting flesh.

The fact he couldn't feel it did not bode well, and the fact that he could only manage weak breaths against the fierce burning in his lungs was a mournful dirge played in the destruction of his home around him.

He had to find his father. Gritting his teeth against the unbearable pain, Richard let out a single sob and clutched his hand to his chest, the sob turning to a high-pitched keen as his left foot tried to buckle out from under him with a surge of white-hot pain.

A broken ankle, a hand that would surely have to be amputated, and his father was nowhere in sight. Operating purely by instinct and memory, he stumbled towards the main hall, where he had heard the sounds of arguments.

He rounded the corner just in time to see his father, face-to-face with another man, the pair of them surrounded by corpses, shattered glass, and burning house-bits. Both men noticed him a split second after he limped into the room as fast as his leg would carry and shouted out a warning to him.

"RIČARDAS! Run! You need t-"

There was a gunshot, and his father jolted with the force of it, falling to the ground. The intruder threw his gun aside and pulled out a knife, leaping over the table between him and Richard. The man snarled in some language he didn't understand but it didn't matter. In that moment, all he could see was his father's corpse on the ground, blood pooling in such a way he fancied he could see wings. The other man was upon him within seconds, and as the mans fist connected with his face, something snapped inside of him.

The next moment he was aware of his surroundings, he was tearing into the man's chest cavity, screaming and sobbing through the pain of it all, both physical and emotional. He stuttered to a stop when he realized what he was doing but he didn't want to. It felt right, it felt just, to carve away at the thing that left him and his brother orphans without a home.

He disgusted himself, and he staggered to his feet once more. He was still screaming. The screams were perched beneath his throat and now they bubbled free, one after another.

He didn't notice staggering out the front door into the snow outside. He didn't notice falling face first into it, some hundred yards away. He didn't notice Benediktas carrying him like he had carried Benediktas but a few moments ago. He didn't notice he was hoarse from screaming, and he payed no mind to the blood soaking through every part of him

He didn't notice when the nightmare stopped and he woke up. After a moment, he realized he had been screaming in the waking world as well: his throat ached and the echos of the noise he made seemed to now be imprinted in the very walls themselves.

He didn't notice how he tried to stumble out the door, only to fall and lean against the doorway, leaving his room open for all to see.

He noticed that his hands were shaking, and he was shedding tears. He had tried so hard to repress that memory, and still it crept forward now and again. He noticed that his pocket watch said he had been asleep for all of an hour, if not less than one.

He resigned himself to another night without sleep and made a note to try and get some the next day, lest he start hallucinating properly.

For that moment, though, he just wrapped Jack's coat around him and tried to make himself as small as possible once he doubled back to curl up on one of the armchairs in his room. He didn't know why he had tried leaving his room, but the door was open and he couldn't be bothered to shut it again. His heart hammered in his chest; A million thoughts tried to curl around him like the smoke in his home and-

He stared at the wall and tried to forget.

Madame La Déchante: ( Richard awakens to a small but firm hand on his shoulder. Inches from his face is a smaller one with intense green eyes. Her voice is lyrical, but equally as firm as the hand on his shoulder. ) Richard. ( The smell of something sweet fills the air, like chocolate but accented with vanilla and freshly baked cookie dough. Sure enough, a tray of cookies and a large glass of warm cocoa sits between them. ) You're having a nightmare. Wake up.

Tairais:  Richard woke with a shuddering gasp. In the terrifying moments between waking and the realization of his surroundings, he skittered backwards and drew his knife from its hidden sheathe in his right arm he popped a compartment open. For a few moments, he simply breathed heavily as his eyes darted around the room, looking for a manner of escape. When he realized where he was and who and what was in front of him, he relaxed slightly, and allowed himself to put his knife away. He chuckled sheepishly and tilted his head. "M-my.. apologies, M-madame, if I s-startled y-you." He glanced at the cookies and cocoa wistfully. If his stomach hadn't been churning in fear, he would've gladly accepted the gift. As it was, he remained tense and on the verge of bolting from the room.

Madame La Déchante:  ( She withdraws her hand as if being scalded before relaxing with him, her face never betraying the fright he gave her. She chuckles breathlessly. Something is different... Her accent...British? ) It's not every night someone points a blade at me... though it's also not every night we awaken to bloody murder. ( She pauses wistfully, an almost knowing look in her eye as the silence acknowledges the double meaning in her words. She gingerly sits at the foot of the bed. ). I, however, must be the one to apologize for startling you, it's a toilsome night for you and it's likely going to rob you of your nerves. It's a cruel thing to capitalize on such suffering. You're going to need something to help you calm down and I find that warm milk does wonders.

Tairais:  He paused and narrowed his eyes for a fraction of a second before he allowed his features to relax into a mixture of sheepishness, apology, and weariness. He chuckled and flashed a wry smile. "T-true enough. I a-apologize, I d-did not m-mean t-to s-shout a-as I did, nor consider h-harming you." He glanced again towards the food she had brought. "I a-appreciate t-the gift, b-but I d-do hope y-you will f-forgive me w-when I say m-my stomach w-would not t-take kindly t-to food or drink at the m-moment." He was gradually beginning to calm down, but there was still smoke in the air and the taste of it in the back of his mouth made it quite impossible to even think of trying to eat or drink.

Madame La Déchante:  I'm well aware, that's why I brought this selection. I'm not going to force your hand, but cocoa can help settle you in. (She rises to her feet. ) If you need anything else, let me know. Perhaps, with an inside voice this time ( She winks, slipping through the door. )

Tairais:  Richard chuckled, then gingerly picked up the cocoa. It was warm, and for a few moments he merely basked in the warmth. As time passed, he eventually mustered the courage to take a sip, humming softly. It really was quite nice, though his stomach still debated on whether it agreed. He sighed and leaned back against the wall. He wasn't planning on sleeping any time soon, but at least there was a faint smile on his face.

Obtained From
The Things That Go Bump in the Night