Sinric the Wanderer

Sinric feels the love from both of them, but also the conflict, the hurt. He burrows down, fighting to keep himself from dissolving into tears again.

"Did... did the Bar give you something, to help me sleep?" He asks Athelstan, his voice shaky. He wants to cry, wants to show them how wrong they both are for doubting each other's love. For doubting that being together is the right path.

For making him doubt he should have brought them together.

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"Yes." He produces a sachet. "She said it would be safe for use this once. I think we need hot water."

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"I will get some," Ragnar says, getting up. At least it's something to do.

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Sinric curls tighter in the furs, hating that he had made them feel so pained. All he wanted was to be held, to feel the warmth of safety and home. Now he realises how naive that was of him.

He rubs at his eyes again, trying not to wish it better lest he see how badly worst it could get.

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Athelstan waits for Ragnar to come back with the hot water, then pours the powder into it.

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Ragnar brought a spoon along, and stirs for Sinric before offering him the cup.

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Sinric drinks deeply and swiftly, nor minding that it burns his tongue. He welcomes oblivion from the maelstrom within him and the hurt he's already caused.

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Athelstan watches him, then moves to sit on the edge of the bed.

He did say he'd stay.

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Ragnar lies beside Sinric, to provide the warmth of his presence, even if Athelstan'S distance is acutely painful.

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Sinric curls in Ragnar's arms, his slight body shaking. He reaches out one hand to Athelstan, radiating apology and praying the drugs act quickly. He can't bear this any more.

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It isn't anything Sinric's done. He just isn't able to be who Sinric wants, or who Ragnar does, and Athelstan feels guilty for that himself.

He takes Sinric's hand and squeezes it.

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Ragnar looks up at him.

"Can you sleep, too?"

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Sinric feels the drugs that him, feels himself begin to float. He squeezes Athelstan's hand, hoping it expresses his love and gratitude.

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"I'll try. Whether yes or no, I won't leave."

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"At least get comfortable?"

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Sinric is sinking fast, his lips moving in a silent whisper as his eyes close.

{ooc: feel free to play around him a bit.}

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Athelstan nods and lies down on the bed, trying very hard to untense.

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Ragnar makes sure to completely stay on his own side of Sinric.

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Athelstan is still holding Sinric's hand but doesn't initiate any other contact.

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It's not,something either of them can break through, it seems. Ragnar doesn't want to put any more pressure on his love, which seems to have become terribly fraught, rather than better, since Athelstan left for Olofier's rooms.

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Mostly he doesn't want to give Ragnar false hope of more happening than he's able to give, since it seems to him Ragnar still wants it very much.

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Ragnar would rather not have sex, ever again, than lose Athelstan's love. His simple, affectionate touch. Talking to him.

But he feels all this might be gone already.

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