"And what do you suggest I do instead? Just tell my roommates that sometimes I wake up covered in blood and god knows what else, because everything I dream becomes real and all my dreams are actually nightmares? Don't worry, though, my nightmares only want to kill me."

Ronan spits the words like acid, each of them dripping with a nameless fury that he hasn't had an outlet for since he arrived. He's not angry at Adam, exactly, but Ronan has been standing in a sea of gasoline for weeks and now seems like as good a time as any to drop a match onto it. Later he'll feel guilty about lashing out at Adam. Right now he's frustrated and so, so tired.

He does sleep, occasionally. Usually on missions where he can be far enough away from other people to avoid explaining why he wakes up with claw marks across his arms and drenched in sickly black ooze. He hasn't brought back an actual nightmare yet, but it feels like a ticking time bomb until he does. None of it's enough. Sometimes it feels like nothing will ever be enough.

"I don't have Lindenmere. I don't even have a ley line. I'm not powerful enough to fix whatever I fuck up, here."