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[lordofdarkness]

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[lordofdarkness]

[Bad days don't come like they used to. There are days he finds himself looking in the mirror, fingers pushing his nose into the shape of Bianca's and tugging at his hair to try and catch a glimpse of her in his own reflection, but those days don't take his feet out from under him anymore. There are days too when he sits next to Will at the Apollo table and the heavy weight of eyes that aren't there keep his hands folded carefully on his lap, Will's hand lying empty inches away, but Will offers him a kind smile and by lunchtime the press of that gaze is gone.

He recovers faster now, more often than not beats back the voices in his head when they rise in volume. He's getting better. His heart growing lighter. More resilient.

But the defenses he's building aren't strong enough on the nights Tartarus takes him under, returning him to that place and plunging him into darkness. The nightmares turn the breath in his lungs to burning poison and blind him with a pressing darkness, suffocating and all consuming. They always start in the pit and they always end in the jar. That fucking, terrifying, horrible jar. Sometimes when he wakes in the dark after those dreams, he can't tell that he's out, that it's over.

The fear lingers. The loneliness and hopelessness drag him back into their depths.

Today is one of those days. Or perhaps it's more accurate to say that Saturday was one of those nights. (It's Tuesday now.) One of the many problems with the nightmares was he needed strength to fight them off, but they drained him of everything and left nothing behind. And so one night of nightmares turned into two. He knows better now. Knows that after one night, the best thing to do is to refuse sleep the next. It's been three days since he slept for more than a couple of hours at a time and he feels fragile. Like he'll break with the slightest breeze.

It's lunch time and he's sitting on his bed, eyes boring into the opposite wall, unseeing. He skipped breakfast and all of his classes this morning, mumbling something about a cold at the camper who'd been sent to inspect his absence. He's pretty sure it was a newer camper because they'd run off fairly quickly when he snapped at them to leave. Makes it easier on him at least.

He's dressed, but his shoes aren't on. He should eat lunch. He's not hungry, but he should eat. He'd slept in his clothes last night, too tired to change out of them and it's convenient because he's dressed. Except for his shoes that are lying halfway across the room.

Lunch will be so loud, with so many people. Kayla will ask him where he's been and Will will smile and reach for his hand and his shoes are so far away. He isn't that hungry anyway.

Maybe dinner. Maybe he'll eat in his room.

Nico sits on his bed and stares at the wall and he hurts.]

[lordofdarkness]

[The infirmary is blissfully empty and Nico sits on one of the cots with his back against a pile of pillows, a heap of goldenseal stalks beside him. Another pile sits to his right, the roots separated out from the rest and he works meticulously with the stalk in his hand, separating leaf from stalk and root. Judging from the size of his piles, he's been at it for a while though he still has quite a ways to go. At the nearest desk and chair, Will sits, sorting through papers and labeling containers full of various herbs as Nico watches him in silence.

It's a comfortable silence that's fallen over them, the warmth of the day soaking through the windows and heating the room and bolstering the peaceful environment.]

Hey, Will? [His voice is soft when he speaks, a contemplative tone indicative of something he's been chewing over in the peaceful silence for quite some time.]

What are bras for?