fandomhigh | Library [08/22]

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Library [08/22]

Jonothon had been... a little lax on his library duties over the summer, he realized. He'd missed a couple of shifts here and there (the fact that Silent Hill was a factor in this meant little to him, no), and today he was looking to make up for lost time with a bit of a vengeance. By noon, he'd managed to shelve the books on the cart, and as the day pressed on, he was going to even pull out a rag and start dusting things.

Because he could, damn it. It didn't matter that it was technically break week, now. He had a bloody job to do.

Ah, productivity.

[Open!]

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She rolled her eyes.

"You don't eat," Rosalind pointed out bluntly. "Diet advice," not that she had any, "would be pointless and cruel. I was not talking about nightmares. I was focusing on you getting enough sleep in order to function."

There was a difference.

//Falling asleep isn't my trouble,// Jono replied. //Not usually. Not unless there's something going on and I can't shake it off.//

Bloody telepathy for that, anyhow.

//It's remaining asleep once I'm there that's th'challenge.//

"Do you do anything to handle your nightmares?" Rosalind asked.

//What is there to be done? Really, now? Can't medicate, can't exactly seek out a shrink about this, either. And I'm not exactly what you'd call th'poster boy for thinking happy thoughts.//

... Obviously.

"There are sleep aids you have to smell to be effective." Medicinal aromatherapy? "I wouldn't say it's about happy thoughts either. More about distracting thoughts--or a book or an activity that keeps your attention better than most."

//My sinuses aren't exactly what they used to be, either,// Jono pointed out, though his tone was... mild. //What I can smell is mostly limited to... myself.//

Which was kind of humiliating to admit, yes.

//Music is that distraction, for me. And I've tried it. I have. Mostly the result in the end is that I have nightmares with soundtracks.//

Would would be more awesome if it didn't mean watching himself accidentally immolate the people he cared about to the tune of Pearl Jam's Jeremy, and such.

"Have you tried writing your nightmares out?" Rosalind asked, glancing thoughtfully at him. "Give them solid form and then they'll leave your head."

It worked, for some things.

//They've already got plenty of solid form to work with, luv.//

There was the hint of something that might have been intended to be a sigh, there, and then Jono ran his fingers through his hair and shrugged.

//I haven't tried, no. But writing it down means I'd have to actually... think about it.//

"It might make them worse for a little while," she conceded. "But acknowledging and dealing with a fear is usually more useful than pretending it is not there."

//Well, I know full well that it's there,// Jono replied. That didn't come out feeling as casual as he wanted, but at least he'd said it. //And I do more than acknowledge it. I keep it from accidentally levelling the island every minute of th'day.//

Yes, Jonothon thought that ought to count for something.

"That's brooding, not dealing with it constructively. That's keeping it locked in where it poisons your thoughts," Rosalind snapped.

//I fight with it,// Jono argued, though it was a halfhearted attempt, really. //It's what I am, gel. I can't afford to stop being afraid of it, because if I do, I might forget it, might just let it go. And people get hurt when I let it go. I can't focus on being comfortable with this and on keeping it from getting away from me at th'same time, and one is more important than a good night's rest.//

"Jono," she said, with patience under the neatly strangled exasperation. "I'm not talking about your powers or your condition. Do you mean to tell me you've got no nightmares from having been in that other world? Write those down. Deal with those ones."

//They tie in together,// Jono replied with another try at a sigh. It fell short, too. Sighs took effort. //It was a world of ashes, luv. You can only guess what my first thought was when I woke up there.//

Did I do this?

"I can guess," Rosalind replied. "Though it speaks of a sorry lack of faith in yourself."

//Not a lack of faith in myself,// Jono countered. //A realistic understanding of just how dangerous this power really is. It's psionic energy in its purest, most volatile state. You can't just step up your confidence in yerself and expect that to be enough.//

He had a nuclear reactor of psychic energies in his chest. He thought it was kind of a big deal, yes.

"And again," she said, with another roll of her eyes. "Back to your powers when I was not addressing those."

//Well, I am. Rosalind, luv, they're... They've kind of become me. It all goes right back to them. It has to.//

There was a healthy dose of Jonothon's fear, gift-wrapped and drifting thick in the air between them. It didn't take a telepath or an empath to pick up on it, there.

And now she was glowering at him.

"You," she said crisply, precisely. "Are not your powers."

//Perhaps not,// he replied, taking this opportunity to glower right back. //But I am governed by them.//

Much as he hated it.

"Even so," she answered, "there is no need to have nothing of yourself in your life."

//I have a girlfriend, I play guitar, I work in both a library and in th'music shop in town. I think it's fairly safe to say that I still have a bit of myself in my life, luv.//

Jono was now reaching for a rag and making a point to dust things. Dusting things, go! He was being all... useful.

//Just... Not as much I'd like, perhaps, when I'm trying to sleep.//

"That's depressing," Rosalind replied.

Because that was oh so helpful, Rosalind.

Rosalind, meet Jonothon's most biting deadpan stare.

//That would explain a fair bit, wouldn't it.//

Really, he'd never noticed.

She gave him a stare of her own back. Hers was more on the impassive side of things.

Then she set the faerie book on the desk and shoved it over to him.

"I read it."

Because there was nothing to be said about his issues right now.

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