Hi everyone! I know there's not a lot of new content around, these days, so I am here to provide. This is another fic with a focus around mental health, as DC struggles with anxiety and survivor's guilt after the war. This is set after Vardaesia, but before A Very Medoran Kaldoras. It's going to be a pretty long one, at least 20k words, and i will be updating regularly :)

So, I hope you guys like it, and it's best enjoyed with a hot chocolate in hand.

DC was running through the city of Meya. Aven was chasing her, wanting to cut off her hair. Jordan was standing on the corner, trying on some new shoes. "Come on, Jordan!" yelled DC. "Aven's coming, you need to run!"

Jordan couldn't hear her, he was talking and laughing with Bear. "Run! Both of you, run!" DC tried to yell, but she couldn't. Nothing came out. Aven appeared around the corner, and DC started running, leaving the boys behind.

DC's eyes shot open, her bed cold with sweat. The room was draped in shades of grey and black. Quiet. Safe.

She sat up, slowing down her breathing. She pulled her hands through her damp red hair, taking a moment to breathe. I am safe, she thought. I am not in danger.

Alex was still sound asleep on the other side, her face smooth and unwrinkled. She was one of the lucky ones, without any nightmares plaguing her sleep. DC crept across the room, quietly opening the door.

The bright yellow light pierced the room, falling across DC's bed, as she slipped out, shutting the door behind her.

The hallways were silent, the air crisp and cold, the soft red carpet muffling her footsteps. She stayed silent as she travelled down the stairs. Down, into the Rec Room.

There were three other people, despite the time—two-am DC noted. She gave them a soft nod, and they returned the gesture. There was a second year, staring at the fireplace, a mug in his hand. Sean was sitting at the dining table, picking his way through a bowl of spicy nuts and biscuits. The final person was an apprentice, who DC had in her Archery class last year, but she couldn't remember their name. She was wearing a VR ring, staring off at something DC couldn't see.

She didn't say anything to them—they didn't expect her to, either. She saw them often, here, in the dark hours of the night. It was easier than being alone.

DC walked over to the bookshelf, grabbing the book she had been reading last time. It was always easier to deal with the nightmares when she distracted herself. It was the same for the others, too. Not that they ever spoke to each other. But DC knew there was still comfort. The same comfort she had for the last three weeks.

She opened up her book and let herself become absorbed in the pages.

Harem was trudging through the marketplace, his boots crunching with frost. The night had been long, and the snow heavy. But the little fawn was safe now. Wrapped in woollen blankets next to the fireplace. He stopped at Nancy's stall, admiring the new deerskins draped across her table.

"I heard youse were out Northaways," said Nancy, a smile on her face. "Good deer country up there. But in that weather? What were ye thinking?"

"I came back just before dawn," replied Harem. "And the weather was foul as a brooding hen."

"Was it worth it? I don' know any hunter who could find a deer in those parts."

Harem shook his head. "I couldn'a see my own hand in front of my face. I could have walk past a deer city and not noticed. I was lucky to survive the night."

"Why in the seventh moon were you out there, then?"

Harem shrugged, turning away. "It's just how things turned out. I can't change it now, but I can know I coped well."

DC shut the book, looking up around the room. It was four-thirty, now, and she saw that Sean was gone, replaced by two others in the night-time stint. It was the moments like this where she wanted to say something, wanted to tell someone about what she'd read, about how they were feeling. She wanted to ask about their nightmares, but she couldn't. It was too quiet. So instead, she tried to project a welcoming look, but she had no idea how it made her look.

But still nobody came over.

They were silent in their solidarity—but at the same time, all of them were alone.