06-17-2009, 04:30 PM
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500+
He must have dreamed. He moved suddenly in his sleep, and she remembered back to the night she had found him bleeding to death in the rain, thought back to the room in which he lay and into which she had entered to find that she loved him. And he had been dreaming then, too, of the horrors of long ago. But that night seemed so distant now.... The woad marked fae knew of what he must be dreaming, and her heart wept because of it. Each breath he breathed in slumber invoked her own images, flashing in her mind upon the wings of Ravens within the back of her mind. But those images...they too seemed distant. Only her body seemed to remember. Her mind wanted only to be within that room, to be with this man that she loved. What had happened to her...however humiliating, however weak, insignificant, foolish it made her fell didn’t seem to matter. Just as before, upon the fields of ice, she could forget. But her body didn’t want her to forget. Something was different this time.... Her touch upon his face was met with a shiver, and in the silence she was disturbed by it.
He woke suddenly as her hand fell to his shoulder. Just as he had been surprised by the startle she had made when she had last been in this room, she was surprised now by his startled wakefulness. And the woman held her breath, releasing it only when he looked to her, a soft, inaudible sound. His gaze fell first upon her hand and then upon her face. The woman could not help but feel a flicker of dread as those black eyes, haunted still by his dreams, came to meet her gaze. Uncalled, the eyes of her father, the image of his face above her, rose up in her mind. She blinked, and pushed it away from her mind, but her breath had already caught in her throat. Those white eyes turned away, ashamed of herself. Onus was no monster. His eyes, they did not belong to a demon. As he took her fingers and spoke her name, the woman looked up, her hand grasping his weakly but with as much strength as she could instill within that grasp. She was silent as she simply looked at him. If only she could make him feel what she wanted to say to him.
"It’s okay," she whispered at length, her words slow and gentle as she breathed them into the air. "It’s alright." And then she fell silent once more, her gaze searching those inky pools with that quiet way. But that was all that she could say. She wanted him to know that he had not failed her, but already she was tired, drained of what little strength her sleep had provided. The woad marked female breathed deeply, as if to ward off her weariness. She couldn’t sleep now, not yet. Her head turned away, returning her gaze to the ceiling, though it had only been because the wound had begun to pull unbearably at her mind. "What happened," the quiet whisper began, as if speaking would be too loud, "was not your fault."
500+
He must have dreamed. He moved suddenly in his sleep, and she remembered back to the night she had found him bleeding to death in the rain, thought back to the room in which he lay and into which she had entered to find that she loved him. And he had been dreaming then, too, of the horrors of long ago. But that night seemed so distant now.... The woad marked fae knew of what he must be dreaming, and her heart wept because of it. Each breath he breathed in slumber invoked her own images, flashing in her mind upon the wings of Ravens within the back of her mind. But those images...they too seemed distant. Only her body seemed to remember. Her mind wanted only to be within that room, to be with this man that she loved. What had happened to her...however humiliating, however weak, insignificant, foolish it made her fell didn’t seem to matter. Just as before, upon the fields of ice, she could forget. But her body didn’t want her to forget. Something was different this time.... Her touch upon his face was met with a shiver, and in the silence she was disturbed by it.
He woke suddenly as her hand fell to his shoulder. Just as he had been surprised by the startle she had made when she had last been in this room, she was surprised now by his startled wakefulness. And the woman held her breath, releasing it only when he looked to her, a soft, inaudible sound. His gaze fell first upon her hand and then upon her face. The woman could not help but feel a flicker of dread as those black eyes, haunted still by his dreams, came to meet her gaze. Uncalled, the eyes of her father, the image of his face above her, rose up in her mind. She blinked, and pushed it away from her mind, but her breath had already caught in her throat. Those white eyes turned away, ashamed of herself. Onus was no monster. His eyes, they did not belong to a demon. As he took her fingers and spoke her name, the woman looked up, her hand grasping his weakly but with as much strength as she could instill within that grasp. She was silent as she simply looked at him. If only she could make him feel what she wanted to say to him.
"It’s okay," she whispered at length, her words slow and gentle as she breathed them into the air. "It’s alright." And then she fell silent once more, her gaze searching those inky pools with that quiet way. But that was all that she could say. She wanted him to know that he had not failed her, but already she was tired, drained of what little strength her sleep had provided. The woad marked female breathed deeply, as if to ward off her weariness. She couldn’t sleep now, not yet. Her head turned away, returning her gaze to the ceiling, though it had only been because the wound had begun to pull unbearably at her mind. "What happened," the quiet whisper began, as if speaking would be too loud, "was not your fault."