It's on quiet nights like these, when everyone is asleep on the ship that he hears it. The quiet sobs coming from the room next to his. He knows what's going on, he had experienced it before. Rising from his bed, Sinbad slowly emerges from his room and makes the short trek to the next door.
Not even bothering to knock, he pushes the creaking wood, entering the young boy's room. Once again he finds his comrade Ja'far tossing away his blankets, a sheen of sweat on his pale skin as he struggles against invisible assailants.
Taking a few steps forward, the Dungeon capturer lowers himself onto the cot, pulling the smaller male into his arms. At first Ja'far struggles, swinging his fists and pushing against the older man. Sobs and pleas escape his lips as he fights against his friend, trying to save himself from unknown attacks.
Sinbad remains with the boy, murmuring and shushing, attempting to calm his friend down. After a few more moments of imagined battles, Ja'far wakes with a cry, choked sobs coming from him. He is turned and held close to Sinbad's chest, the elder of the two rubbing his back.
"Sin...it happened again..so much blood." Ja'far whimpers, clinging to the cloth of Sinbad's shirt.
Shaking his head, the purple haired male leans down, pressing his face against the white fluffy locks of his young friend. "Your hands are clean Ja'far, you've made amends." reaching down, he clasps a pale hand into his own warm one. "And if they are dirty, I'll always be there to clean them." he murmurs, nudging the boy's head up to lovingly press his lips against the other's.