An Average Night

[winterblood 11181]

 

[ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_YQ10YaPJoU ]

 

Nemir woke in a cold sweat, her body tense beneath the sheets of her bed.  No light shined into her room, not evening the waning light of the moon pried through the windows in her bedchambers.  The elfess pushed herself up in the bed, careful to not wake her husband sleeping soundly beside her.  Her legs slid out from the sheets, touching the cool floorboards with her bare feet as her trembling hands gripped the edge of the bed.  She drew in light, quavering breaths as she tried to rid her mind of her horrid dream.

 

It was about Him again.  This time she was in the field He had showed her after injuring her head, but a fog was stretching across the flora this time, and the tree she always saw was hardly visible.  As always, she couldn’t move, but kept clutching her head and wincing as if it ached terribly.  She could rarely feel in her dreams, but it still all seemed real.  It always does.  Nemir was leaning her back against a gray boulder with her legs sprawled out before her in the tall grass and flowers covered in dew.  Despite the discomfort she felt in this dream, it was all almost peaceful.  Then He appeared.

 

It was just how it was when He had first showed her: Him floating above her legs, looking down to her with His revolting smile and pale blue eyes.  She only sat there, meeting His gaze with unease which melted into fear when His eyes turned into pure darkness.  Tendrils of a similar hue stretched out from his back at that, becoming alight with flames moments later.  The elfess’ breaths became panicked when they started reaching down to her, she gripped fistfulls of the grass around her, using it to drag her form away.

 

She had moved slowly.  Her legs wouldn’t obey her commands to push herself and her fingers clung loosely to the weak blades of grass which kept getting pulled up from the soil.  Tears clouded her vision, as did the thickening fog.  The elfess saw the burning colors of red and orange in the corner of her eyes, beginning to feel the growing heat of fire and the increasing sense of fear and terror.  Then it touched her shoulder, and she woke up.

Nemir had gotten up and dressed, but not in her usual robes.  She put on dark pants and a simple, white, button-up shirt with short sleeves with her plain shoes.  She kept her long, wavy hair loose and hanging down her back.  Her form was still tense, hands unsteady as were her breaths when she made her way downstairs to collect a dull blade from the forge.  She gripped the hilt in her right hand, where an old and jagged scar curled around her knuckles, wrist, and forearm like a branch, disappearing up her short sleeve.  It bent around another aged scar which was shaped like a bite mark in her arm.

 

She lit up a lantern and stepped outside into her courtyard where a battered dummy stood in the dark.  The red lighting of the lantern reflected softly off of the dummy as she approached it, some of the small flames reflecting off of the sword in her hand.  Nemir knelt down to set her source of light onto a nearby stone before stepping before the dummy again, getting into her stance and proceeded to whack it repeatedly from different angles.

 

It wasn’t until the sun’s morning light lit up the overcasting clouds hours later when she finally dropped her sword.  Her arms and back ached, and her heavy breaths were visible in the morning air.  The tips of her long ears were red as were her cheeks when she used her arm to wipe her brow from sweat.  Her eyes felt heavy, but she knew she couldn’t return to bed and experience those nightmares another time.  Nemir returned to her manor, leaving the sword and lantern that had ran out of oil just before the sun rose behind to clean herself up and to get ready for the day.

[Slothtastic 761]

((A lady elf and tendrils? I think I know where this is going... also I have to make an IC post I think.))

 

Dhaine sleeps soundly. 

[Archipelego 2188]

"..." Adrius watches silently, only able to deal with threats of the physical variety.

[HurferDurfer1 2979]

a lich forgets what sleep is

[Gladuos 869]

An elf awakens some time later only to find Nemir has gotten out of bed early again, sitting up and staying in the bedroom while the sounds of her training are heard in the courtyard floors below. He would not wish to interrupt her and so instead of immediately getting up, he begins his daily routine of deep meditation, projecting and sharpening his mind. After ample time, the Mali would descend from the upper floors to greet his wife and repair a battered dummy.

[EmbryoGod 823]

Ser John "the Handsome" Wick stirs slightly from his daze of numbers, trying to remember what dreams are.

[bickando 3967]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.