“Well, I think I’ve wasted enough time with my rambling.” Finnegan strolled over to the Dyllan curled up on the ground leaking self pity. “From the incessant apologies, I figure that big blob of wasted thought begged for mercy. Not a common problem, since most see their worst fears as big ‘n’ scary, not weak ‘n’ vulnerable.” A hint of an Irish accent rested in Finn’s voice, though it could’ve also been a Scottish accent tempered by years of living in America. “Plus, most just go and walk it off. Only a few of the more sensitive souls take it to heart.”
Finn rested his hand on Dyllan’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t hurt the beast, you healed it. You don’t honestly think the thing liked running about, being a big ol’ farty-Marty, did you?” A reassuring smile sprung naturally onto his face, as though it had been there all along. “It’s like a dog at the vet’s. They don’t like being there, and they don’t always understand the vet is trying to help, but it’s still for their own good. You’re not hurting the Nightmare, kid, you’re healing it.”
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Dyllan didn’t respond.
“Och, that’s not good. Looks like this isn’t about the Nightmare, even if it was maybe brought about by…” The Vice wielded by Dyllan’s shadow flickered with flame, catching Finnegan’s eye. “…it.” A frown crossed Finn’s face, though he still somehow gave off a warm and friendly feeling. “Say, the boy doesn’t happen to have a… history with bullying, does he?”
Andie was too busy keeping Dyllan’s shadow pinned to respond, but Cedric gave a solemn nod.
“Ah. Well. That makes things much more complicated.” A grin returned to Finn’s face - obviously forced, but strangely earnest. “Looks like we have to bring out the big guns, then.” With one hand, Finn took off his scarf. With his other, he pulled a piece of flickering Will to Live out from his heart - wincing in pain as it left him. The scarf started to flutter and float more enthusiastically, almost ready to come alive as it sparked with a sunshine yellow glow. “Rekindle a dream, my Optimism.”