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 Posted: Thu Jul 16, 2015 2:21 pm
gnight lady graceHe turned Twitter off, took a deep breath, sighed, and stared at the ceiling for moment,. Okay. Clean up now. He was still a little sniffly from the DM with Maebe, and for a moment Dawson considered just changing his mind and sending Mikael on his way so he didn't have to worry about getting weepy. But then again, maybe it would be a good distraction for the night. And he had deep sympathy for a young kid suffering from nightmares, even if a few (like thinking Horace could be nightmare fuel) were questionable. Wiping at his face, Dawson fixed his hat, got up, and began to try and pick up his trash before Mikael got there. He'd said something about making the guy a bed from the beanbag chair and some blankets, but maybe he had enough to...hmm...
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Posted: Fri Jul 17, 2015 11:35 am
Mikael got scared a lot lately. His entire room had been turned into a pillow fort which he lived in, but sometimes even the pillow castle did not seem as if it would withstand a siege. That night it was the case, and after watching Chantelle stand up to his dad, he was more scared than usual. He remembered the discussion with the blonde man and being told that if he so much as said boo to him that he would be in mortal danger. Mik hadn't specifically stood up to him but he didn't want to risk there being a backlash.
Dawson had agreed to having him over and that night that was all he could ask for. He'd gathered up a blanket and made his way through the basement dressed in nothing but his grubby sleeping shorts and knocked on the door to the other man's room, all but pressed against the side of it, constantly glancing up and down the corridor in case something waited out there in the dark to seize him.
In his head his weapon grumbled and snarled, but he wasn't able to be the intimidating leader it wanted him to be.
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Posted: Mon Jul 20, 2015 9:35 am
He didn't realize the kid would almost fall upon opening the door and has a slightly startled first impression at how pitiful Mikael looked. Was he really of age? What hell kind of place... "Hey, bucko!" Dawson greeted with a smile nevertheless, ushering him in. "How you doin'?" His room had enough color in it from taped posters, photographs, and the small shelf of other assorted items, that one could almost forget it was the basement. There was a battery lamp set atop a stool as the only source of light in the room, but he had just renewed it with a new rune, so it was quite bright. Dawson gestured him to take a seat on the large bean bag chair if he wanted, assuming Mikael didn't trip on the assortment of blankets that littered the area. "I was thinkin' you could take that right there...Unless ya wanna build a blanket fort?" he asked slyly.
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Posted: Mon Jul 20, 2015 6:22 pm
Mikael stumbled into the room with the wide eyed clumsiness of a young and startled deer, giving Dawson a bright though dreamy smile. "Helloooo" he sung. "I'm doing good! Erm.. doing good now." He corrected, he had not been doing well at all that night before the other man had volunteered his room. "Wow! You have a really pretty room." He eyed the posters and photographs with a keen and bright interest, his own room had no order whatsoever and the photographs he possessed were still stowed in the suitcase he'd brought them in.
Rather than sitting neatly, Mikael shed his shoes and took a flying leap into the beanbag chair, cheering out loud as he did so. "Yaaaay!!" he beamed at the other man. "My room is a fort!" and then his expression faltered. "I don't think it would keep the bad things out. You'll keep me more safe than those things, right?"
medigel Sorry for slow! biggrin <3
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Posted: Sun Jul 26, 2015 7:48 pm
That was the first time anyone had ever called a room down here pretty, probably. Chuckling as the kid threw himself down, Dawson locked the door.
"You'll be fine," he assured Mikael, rapping against the stone door with his knuckles. "Solid rock, yeah? Nothin' goes on down here aside from some creaks here 'n there. But that's why we got us that." He indicated his iPod, halfway covered on his bed from the ever rumpled sheets. "Hope you don' mind Enya n' some other Gaelic stuff. Helps me sleep at night."
Dawson moved away from the door, nudging a used shirt closer to the pile it was supposed to belong in along the way, and settled atop his mattress. "Said you had some nightmares, huh?"
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Posted: Tue Jul 28, 2015 11:41 am
Mikael was excited, the trip to Dawson's room had gotten his adrenaline going and like a kid on a sugar high it was very difficult for him to wind down again. He looked pleased at the solidity of the walls and nodded, his dad was - despite appearances - not actually a ghost. "Yeah." he said, letting a little of the relief bleed through in his voice. "And he wouldn't come here with you here." he looked pleased at the ipod too. "I love music!" he beamed. "Any music, I don't like the quiet it is like it pushes on your ears and you can hear too many things. I like music, that is very good."
At the mention of nightmares he went a little pale and drawn but nodded. "I miss my mother." he said. "She was always angry about my father and protected me from him. But he's here. And he told me if I argued with him that he would.." he set his mouth in an upset line, not sure if he should really be telling anyone about the threat either. "Telle has been arguing with him and it scared me, because he might think it was me." He drew one of the blankets up to his chin and peeked out from behind it. "I have lots of nightmares."
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Posted: Thu Jul 30, 2015 8:15 am
No, he imagined Lawr would not. The guy seemed all too happy to pick at Dawson on Twitter as it was. Nodding in sympathy at both mother and music, he flipped it to the long Enya playlist and hit shuffle.
"Dad like that, I'd have nightmares too," he said as he leaned forward. "Chantelle was very brave, standin' up t'him like that. But he's, well...he's not a good guy, yeah. So s'okay t'feel scared about it."
He should have felt outright anger about Mikael's treatment, but with this happening on the heels of his conversation with Maebe, Dawson's feelings were too bruised to be anything but soft at the moment.
"I miss my mom too." He pointed her out on the photo collage cork board, an apple-cheeked, strawberry blond woman, all but an American standard save for the small, dark eyes. "You got pictures a'yers?"
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