[ disoriented and still somewhere between dreaming and awake, dwight scrambles the second the weight on his back lifts up and off, flipping onto his back and shuffling away from the edge of the bed on his hands and pushing with his heels. he doesn't recognize the voice speaking to him, and without his glasses he can hardly make anything out clear enough for any sort of comfort. it's only when he nearly topples over the opposite side of the bed that he stops, breathing hard, eyes fluctuating between widening and squinting. fearful, and wanting to see who the fuck and what the fuck is going on.
it takes him a few long moments to settle. to realize that the softness underneath his palms his not dirt, but a lush comforter and soft sheets, and that this is - this is the manor, and not the woods. not the fog. he's safe - or, at least, safer than he's been in a while. no murdery serial killers here.
embarrassed and still kind of clueless, dwight scrambles forward on his knees and reaches out toward his bedstand, patting his hand around for his glasses. ]
Uh— [ his voice shakes a little, mostly due to anxiety and the adrenaline still coursing through him. ] —sorry. Sorry I just -
[ pat pat pat - gotcha.. dwight slides his glasses onto his face a little haphazardly, fingers touching one of the lenses by accident and leaving prints. he blinks through them, brows pinched as dom and - a fucking snow leopard??? come into focus.
shit. that kid is his neighbor. he clears his throat. what time is it? dwight doesn't even remember falling asleep. is he still in his regular clothes? he looks down. he's still in his regular clothes. jesus. ]
I, uh. Bad dream. Very bad dream. Did I wake you? And your... what is that, a leopard?
[ Maybe he'd have more empathy if he wasn't so weirded out by his new roommate, placed here after the house made Hope go away, with those glasses and… whatever he's wearing to bed, along with really fucked up nightmares. No one having a good dream (or even a regular bad dream) would be making a live impression of the first kill in a slasher movie, so. That answer tracks. Dom stands back up, petting the top of Dee's head as she sits down, looong tail flopped on the floor and wrapped around her front paws. She's watching you, Dwight. ]
Yeah, a snow leopard. Her name's Dee. We both heard you and thought she could help you chill out.
[ Which they didn't. Or did they? At least the guy's out of the dream, right? ]
You want some water or a towel or something? You're kinda sweaty.
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it takes him a few long moments to settle. to realize that the softness underneath his palms his not dirt, but a lush comforter and soft sheets, and that this is - this is the manor, and not the woods. not the fog. he's safe - or, at least, safer than he's been in a while. no murdery serial killers here.
embarrassed and still kind of clueless, dwight scrambles forward on his knees and reaches out toward his bedstand, patting his hand around for his glasses. ]
Uh— [ his voice shakes a little, mostly due to anxiety and the adrenaline still coursing through him. ] —sorry. Sorry I just -
[ pat pat pat - gotcha.. dwight slides his glasses onto his face a little haphazardly, fingers touching one of the lenses by accident and leaving prints. he blinks through them, brows pinched as dom and - a fucking snow leopard??? come into focus.
shit. that kid is his neighbor. he clears his throat. what time is it? dwight doesn't even remember falling asleep. is he still in his regular clothes? he looks down. he's still in his regular clothes. jesus. ]
I, uh. Bad dream. Very bad dream. Did I wake you? And your... what is that, a leopard?
no subject
[ Maybe he'd have more empathy if he wasn't so weirded out by his new roommate, placed here after the house made Hope go away, with those glasses and… whatever he's wearing to bed, along with really fucked up nightmares. No one having a good dream (or even a regular bad dream) would be making a live impression of the first kill in a slasher movie, so. That answer tracks. Dom stands back up, petting the top of Dee's head as she sits down, looong tail flopped on the floor and wrapped around her front paws. She's watching you, Dwight. ]
Yeah, a snow leopard. Her name's Dee. We both heard you and thought she could help you chill out.
[ Which they didn't. Or did they? At least the guy's out of the dream, right? ]
You want some water or a towel or something? You're kinda sweaty.