The apology made him crumble a little, any annoyance and anger he'd felt drained away and he rubbed his hand down his face with a tired sigh. Even after dropping his hand to his side, he kept his eyes closed, head tilted back to rest against the wall as well.
"...No. It is not your fault. I am just... frustrated," He opened his eyes, head still tilted back, looking at Athelstan at the odd angle, "You have nothing to be sorry for. It is... mm. Not your problem. It is our problem, yes? And now, we can start to fix it."
Athelstan wanted to argue that it is his fault. The fact that Ragnar is frustrated, Athelstan's failings, what Dodger had done... it's all Athelstan's fault. He knows well enough, though, that Ragnar would not agree and that it would anger or upset him if Athelstan said as much so he kept it to himself.
He nods, a small smile. Even if he does still feel that it his own problem, that he's somehow the problem they would get further if they were trying to fix it together.
Athelstan turns toward the table and begins putting things away, his mind still feels a bit raw and he's overall unsettled but he Ragnar probably would not agree to rest more unless Athelstan came to bed. "We should rest first," he said quietly.
"Now?" He asked, looking up at Athelstan in shock. Despite feeling exhausted, sleeping was the last thing on his mind. He had, what felt like, a hundred things on his mind, most of them had to do with the things he was imagining doing to Dodger.
Still, he slowly pushed himself up onto his feet with a quiet grunt. He shrugged off the blanket, wrapping it around Athelstan's shoulders instead. Nodding towards the house, he pushed the door of the small art room open and waited for Athelstan to lead the way.
Athelstan nods slightly. "Aren't you tired?" he questions as the other gives up, letting him wrap the blanket around his shoulders. He leaves the art room and heads back toward the house. He almost feels like washing himself again but it's a foolish thought and he wants Ragnar to get back to sleep, already sorry for the way that he's disturbed the man's rest.
He makes his way up to the room they share, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Ragnar, you won't do anything rash, right?"
Ragnar quietly shut the door to Athelstan's art room, padding along beside him as they traversed the short little path back to the house. The sky was just starting to lighten, though it was still more predawn than dawn.
"Not really. I do not remember what I dreamt," He said with a soft smile, following Athelstan inside, "But it woke me up."
The panic of thinking Athelstan was gone had definitely woken him up more, but the monk already seemed wracked with guilt. He didn't need any more help.
"Rash?" Ragnar echoed the word with a slight smile that was devoid of any warmth, "No."
It wouldn't be rash at all. It would be well thought out and executed with calculation. Not rash.
Athelstan thought about the other's comment. He wonders what it was that he had been dreaming. Dreams are often a curious thing, he thinks, anymore. He doesn't further ask, though, if the other doesn't remember but it woke him up if it comes back to him he'd surely tell him.
If Athelstan was in a better state of mind he would have caught the fact that he hadn't worded his request correctly, not nearly covering what he would need to to make sure that Ragnar didn't do anything retaliatory but he's mentally exhausted and drained even if he feels like the last thing he can do is sleep.
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"...No. It is not your fault. I am just... frustrated," He opened his eyes, head still tilted back, looking at Athelstan at the odd angle, "You have nothing to be sorry for. It is... mm. Not your problem. It is our problem, yes? And now, we can start to fix it."
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He nods, a small smile. Even if he does still feel that it his own problem, that he's somehow the problem they would get further if they were trying to fix it together.
Athelstan turns toward the table and begins putting things away, his mind still feels a bit raw and he's overall unsettled but he Ragnar probably would not agree to rest more unless Athelstan came to bed. "We should rest first," he said quietly.
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Still, he slowly pushed himself up onto his feet with a quiet grunt. He shrugged off the blanket, wrapping it around Athelstan's shoulders instead. Nodding towards the house, he pushed the door of the small art room open and waited for Athelstan to lead the way.
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He makes his way up to the room they share, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Ragnar, you won't do anything rash, right?"
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"Not really. I do not remember what I dreamt," He said with a soft smile, following Athelstan inside, "But it woke me up."
The panic of thinking Athelstan was gone had definitely woken him up more, but the monk already seemed wracked with guilt. He didn't need any more help.
"Rash?" Ragnar echoed the word with a slight smile that was devoid of any warmth, "No."
It wouldn't be rash at all. It would be well thought out and executed with calculation. Not rash.
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If Athelstan was in a better state of mind he would have caught the fact that he hadn't worded his request correctly, not nearly covering what he would need to to make sure that Ragnar didn't do anything retaliatory but he's mentally exhausted and drained even if he feels like the last thing he can do is sleep.
"Alright," he murmurs.