Magi: Sindria's Prophet

37 (Eye of the Storm

In the new memories I got, our dad finally agreed to reorganize all of the living spaces, so that me and Lyly weren't getting as many flashbacks anymore. Hell, he even apologized for everything and started acting like a real dad some of the time. The me that stayed home was able to persevere until an opening for change finally came. 'If they got Isekai now I wonder if they would want to go home?' The thought had never occurred to this me -just like it never did back when I was in in-patient. Although I was still worried about Lyly like I was then.

I rolled over to pull out a scroll from the bedside dressers. When I was on the ship I had worked on all sorts of scrolls and one was a memoir of my life back home. One of the first things I did was draw the people important to me before I'll inevitably forget their faces. I unrolled the scroll. Lyly's face stared up at me from the page. As difficult as that place was to live in all of my loved ones were there. In this world there was no one that knew me, and I wasn't sure if I could let my self get that close to anyone here -especially Sinbad. He already knew how deep some of the scars on my heart are. I didn't want him to think any less of me, or use my pain against me. And even more than that, I was scared that the safety I had here would shatter if I made a wrong step.

'I thought I was doing better.' This world had treated me so well that I fell into a false sense of security. Not being surrounded by reminders of my traumas made me feel like I was somehow cured and could restart from scratch. But that's not how healing works... Being away from triggers just made it easier to avoid having an attack. It's only after feeling safe that we let ourselves feel the emotions that are unsafe to feel in the moment.

A few tears fell down my cheeks. I placed the scroll on the bedside table and rolled back towards the middle of the bed. Surely it was okay for me to cry in a situation like this. I allowed myself the luxury even though the tears didn't last long. When I was young I cried just as often from joy as sadness. The abuse I experienced made it unsafe to cry at all, so I learned to cry silently until I eventually stopped crying altogether. Being in this world made me feel like it was okay again. Letting myself actually feel these emotions was an important step in the healing process. Beating myself up for getting triggered and relapsing wouldn't help at all. I needed to forgive myself.
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One day of rest should be enough, right? It's not like I still had a fever. I didn't want to stay in my room and make an even worse impression. My hips would hurt a little if I over worked them, but that would just act as a limiter. ((<<= This person is in denial))

I got dressed after breakfast, but as soon as I grabbed the doorknob I froze. "Yeah, no." I was not in the mood to see Sinbad in person yet, and I would have to if I left my room. As soon as I took Queen Sinbad's choker back off I felt a wave of relief. It had given me so much dopamine and serotonin when it was part of a fantasy, but now it was a reminder of my fears. How could I mark myself with it when I couldn't feel safe in my own desires? Wearing it felt like a lie. I definitely wouldn't be able to wear it for a while.

'Guess I haven't completely lost my sense of self-preservation.' Besides, I hadn't actually had time to do most of the things I like doing to relax since I got to this world. Going out in this state would be worse than not going out. Another day off as I recover from the stress had to be reasonable.

But what options did I have to relax?

Everyone else was busy with work at this time of day, so I could masturbate without having to worry about being interrupted. But my toybox didn't isekai with me; I only have my hands, and some ribbons for mild shibari. Sinbad said I could make requests, but there was no way in hell I was letting him find about this, let alone use his money for my sex toys. I'll figure out where to get some after payday. The night terror was still fresh in my memory anyway.

Video games, comics, and anime were obviously out of the question. Printing still isn't big enough for fiction to be popular to write -that's part of why Sinbad's Adventure story was such a huge success. I had 3 cats back home, but I can't exactly adopt a new pet while sick. I do sing a lot to relieve stress, but it would be embarrassing to be overheard without knowing. 'Note to self: get carpets to hang up to dampen the sound.' There were places I could go that would be harder to be heard but leaving wasn't an option until I was better. That only left me: writing and drawing.

'Working on Fate scrolls it is!'

The flow of ink was good for my brain. It did more than help calm me; it gave me more perspective but it couldn't give me true answers. 'I wish we could just go back to how things were before that night. How am I supposed to know when I will be ready to see Sinbad again?' He isn't any of the people that hurt me, so why can't I just like him without being afraid of betrayal?

Were Sinbad's actions manipulation, or earnest? Could I trust the safety I felt around him? It was definitely a combination of how he treated me, what I knew from reading his Fate, and how familiar I was with being around those types of manipulation. But there was something strange. When I looked for signs of his manipulation in how he dealt with me, or any expected fallout, nothing came from it. In fact, everything kept ending in my favor. The cycle I was expecting was coming from me, not Sinbad. The waves swirled as I finally let myself think about it.

What was he actually going to say when I cut him off? Even if it was what I thought, would I be able to believe him? Even if I didn't have relationship trauma I don't think I could trust him romantically after reading his Fate. He claimed he wasn't playing the flirting game, but that could have been manipulation. Was it my heart or pride that would be hurt more if he was lying? I couldn't tell yet.

I was lonely. Both in general, and in this world. There was no one that knew me here. And I was too scared to trust the person getting closest to my heart. Even though I didn't want to be seen like this, I didn't actually want to be alone; I just couldn't shake the fear of rejection or punishment I thought was inevitable. I left my windows open just in case.
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~POV Sinbad~
The King sat on the edge of Mori's bed. He had been unable to visit the first time she was sick. Now that he understood his own feelings he couldn't stay away unless he was on the other side of the world. The only reason he didn't visit the first day was because he knew she needed space away from him. The waves had been trying to guide him here for a while though. Who was he to deny them?

No one answered the door when he knocked or called out. The silence and waves worried him. The last report said her current fever was mild, but it could have spiked since then. Mori developed an extremely high fever on the ship several hours after everyone saw she was unwell. He entered without permission only to find his Beautiful Prophet was sleeping peacefully. He had gotten to see her; that would have to be enough.

Mori turned her head in her sleep and her bangs fell onto her eye lashes. Sinbad leaned over to move her hair out of the way. He tried to keep his touch light to not wake her, but her eyes fluttered open.

Unfocused eyes watched him. "Sin..?" The sound of their voice was a relief. It didn't sound strained at all, only weak from sleep.