Aside from the occasional muttering, Phalanx stays rooted in one spot while they sleep, putting in a full, solid night of rest--which, unbeknownst to their new friends, is actually quite a feat. Wrapped up and latched onto something real and kind does them a lot of good. Their poor, buzzing brain will appreciate it in the morning.

Unfortunately, Robin doesn't share all of that peace. Having a warm body right there keeps his own nightmares at bay as it usually does... but maybe Phalanx is just a little too empty to be a perfect comfort during the night. It almost feels like something else gets in.

Whatever the reason, at some point, there is the awareness that comes with a dawning dream... but there is nothing there to see. Only wandering, meaningless thoughts and a whole lot of darkness. It's not bad, at first. There is no need for speaking or breathing or anything else, so it just simply is.

However, all at once, the darkness begins to itch. Like the onslaught of a million carnivorous worms, it needs to be scratched at, dug at. In one random instant, the peace evaporates and there is just an entire world's worth of impossible, choking, crushing weight that needs to be clawed away. All at once, this fact is simply and brutally all that exists.