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It had been a few nights since the trip had ended, since they had come back home to Halloween. Mot had not slept a wink since then. Whenever he thought to, images flashed in his mind that disturbed him badly enough to keep him up.

However, that night, his fatigue had made him almost collapse. His wounds ached, his head spun. He needed to sleep, and his insomnia even fazed out long enough for this to happen. The tall reaper slid into bed, his head softly laying down on his pillow, instantly falling to sleep.

An hour, maybe two rolled by. Mot's sleep was plagued by nightmares. They were tolerable at first. Slowly, they became more disturbed, more terrifying. The reaper rolled about, his features furrowed in pain and discomfort.
The events of the trip flashed through his dreams, only amplified, contorted and somehow made even more terrifying and gruesome than the real thing had been.
Friends died and burned alive. He felt his body become slow and useless no matter how fast he tried to run. The face of the head False Reaper burned into his memories, the feeling of that bottle of acidic liquid being thrown at him played over again. Screaming, so much screaming rung through his ears. Little did he realize that it was his own cries.

Mot sat up sharply in bed as his own screams woke him up. He was nearly drenched in a cold sweat, his breathing sharp, erratic. He felt sick, terrified. Mot curled up, bringing his head to his knees, his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. Even as Hel burst in, Mot could barely reply, still trying to find his breath again.

The light, though Mot's eyes were squeezed shut, did get his attention. He felt the gentle almost hesitant touch to his shoulder, but made no motion to shift or move. He lightly nodded his head against his knees, in answer to Hel's question. He felt ill. Quite so. Not so much that he needed to throw up, especially since there was nothing in him to purge. It was 90% mental. His emotions and terror made him feel ill.

His shoulders shuddered lightly. He knew Hel was there. He didn't want to show her how scared, weak and wounded he was. He wanted to be strong in front of Hel. However, all he could do was keep his head down on his knees, clutching his torso tighter as he choked back a whine. No, he wouldn't break in front of her. However, that feeling that had been in his nightmares lingered into consciousness.

Mot took the time while Hel had left his side to attempt to compose himself. While not entirely successful, he at least was able to keep himself from breaking.

Soon enough, she was back. The cold touch of the damp cloth was enough for the reaper to lift his head, resting his chin between his knees. "...um..nightmare...that's all.." He murmured quietly. He said it as if trying to play it off as something minor.
To think he was so brittle as to be rattled by a dream. Was this normal? Was he the only one whining about a field trip gone wrong? Maybe he was just that weak..

Mot actually smiled, a small chuckle escaping him. "So I've been told." Yes, he was absolutely terrible at lying. He knew this, yet he always tried to do it anyway.

He relaxed momentarily, his shoulders no longer shivering; his nerves a bit calmer as the feeling the dream had left him with faded ever so slightly. His expression turned to a troubled one though. "Ah.." What hadn't he seen? "It was.. mostly the trip." He admitted sheepishly. His arms loosened from his stomach, lifting to hold his knees.

His gaze remained lidded, not focusing at much of anything. "Everything that happened.. it all keeps playing over and over in my head." He murmured softly, "I can't not see it.." Every time he blinked, it flashed. Not a moment of rest. Not a moment.
"I just.. I don't want to sleep anymore. I don't want to see it anymore."

Mot's brows knitted together. He knew what Hel said was true. However, he stubbornly shook his head. "It's impossible. If I sleep, I'll just see it all over again. Sleeping won't make me feel rested like it's apparently supposed to anyway." Sure the reaper could usually go a day or so without it, since insomnia forced him to. This was different though. Now he purposefully wished to remain awake. "If I stay up I can at least distract myself."

He knew it was stupid, and impossible. The only reason he'd fallen asleep that night was because his fatigue almost made him collapse. But now that he'd experienced a nightmare so terrifying, he could not bear the thought of having to experience it again.

Hel's exasperated huff was felt like a word of disappointment. His stubbornness was bothering her, that he knew. He shifted his shoulders, unwilling to stand down his refusal to sleep.
Mot's eyes lifted as Hel announced a short leave, watching her form disappear out his open door. Suddenly, his room felt so empty.

Mot moved, sitting cross legged rather than remaining hunched up like a frightened child. He looked around his dimly lit bedroom, the shadows making nasty gnarly shapes around his furniture and decor.
Soon enough Hel returned before Mot's imagination got too carried away. He watched her carefully as she approached with her hands behind her back. He raised a brow, wondering what she was up to.
She wasn't going to make him eat stew, was she?

His eyes fell to the hat she presented. The charred remains of his beloved hat. His heart fell, his expression turned to that of sorrow. On one hand, it was closure. Here it was, right in front of him, clearly destroyed but not forgotten on some field of blood.
Gingerly, Mot reached out and took the garment in his hands, bringing it closer. A frown pulled at his lips, his eyes conveying his pain. It really was trashed. There was no fixing it.
A moment or two went by as Mot said nothing. He inhaled sharply then, his eyes lifting to look at Hel. "Thank you.. for picking it up." It hurt to see it like this, but it was better than not having it at all. He couldn't help but notice the band Hel had made for it was gone completely, as was the metal star that had gone with it. Precious gifts, gone.

"Did um.. my student pin..?" If he'd lost that too, it was even bigger trouble.

His eyes lifted from his hat again as it sat upon his lap now to meet Hel's gaze. She seemed evasive, anxious even. What? Had.. his pin been destroyed too? It was the least of his worries really, if it was. However, Hel shoved something toward him that threw him for a total loop.

His expression was almost unreadable. His eyes wide as he stared at the creation in front of him. As Hel spoke, his eyes focused on the hat, occasionally looking to meet Hel's eyes before looking back down. Sure, it wasn't the same as his old hat, nor did it carry the meaning it had. This was different. In the most wonderful way.
More than anything, Hel's words to him hit hard. He soon stared up at Hel again, his lips parting in awe. Certain words stuck out more than anything else;
Excellent warrior
Proud
a friend she values for being who he is.

It all sunk in, and as he reached to take the hat, his eyes squinted and his mouth grimaced. It wasn't sadness, or anger. It was deep gratitude. "Hel.." He murmured, almost on the verge of tears. He grasped the new hat with trembling hands. He knew Hel well enough to know she had made this herself. Made it just for him.
His bottom lip quivered, trying desperately not to let himself cry, even if it was because he was happy.