Post by Aelflaed on Nov 11, 2008 14:00:46 GMT -5
The alarm bells over the Harbor were still ringing when Aelflaed finally dragged herself back to the small apartment in Old Town. Mrs. Cross had left the stairway light on – she was a friendly woman, though not particularly open, and she’d been kind about the odd hours that the redheaded paladin had kept lately. It probably didn’t hurt that the Silver Shield hadn’t had any problems with zombies or undead since Aely had moved in.
Stumbling down the stairs with a candle, she lit the lamp and slowly – almost painfully – pulled off her armor, setting oil soaked rags on a few of the particularly gunked up joints. Her shield would need to be hammered out again as well, but that was one of the benefits of living in the basement apartment under the armorer’s shop.
After what seemed like hours to her weary hands, she sat on the edge of her bed in a loose shirt and pants, idly combing her hair with her fingers, her brain racing as the bells at the harbor started up again, announcing another Frostwyrm attack. On the inside of her shield it said “He who guards doesn’t sleep”, but tonight she couldn’t fend off her eyelids any longer.
She peered across the room to the other bed where Phileas had been sleeping, over near the small stove and her cabinets of herbs. Her quilt was still there, lying in the rumpled remains of three nights without sleep. Leaving it there, she grabbed a heavy woolen cloak from the cedar chest that held her spare clothes and lay down, sinking into a wary sleep, her final thoughts wondering, not for the first time, if he’d been alright during the attacks.
*****
From somewhere in a dreamless haze, she thought she heard her name. She couldn’t tell, maybe it was just a dream. She heard it again, and couldn’t place the voice, her mind slowly teetering halfway between sleeping and consciousness, unsure of whether to wake up and answer.
When the voice continued, speaking something she couldn’t understand, she sat up – her eyes blinking into the utter blackness that filled the small room like ink. She fumbled for a match, lighting the small candle on the table at the foot of her bed, and nearly knocked it over as her eyes adjusted to the dim light in the room and she realized what was going on.
She scrambled off the bed to kneel on the floor beside the sleeping rogue. He’d wrapped himself in her quilt and was lying there, almost tucked under the edges of her own blankets. And he was dreaming, his face contorted as he struggled with some unseen foe.
Aely reached down to lay her hand on his shoulder, only to find her wrist grasped firmly in his long fingers. He struggled against her, his voice growing desperate as he tried to fend her off - as though she were attacking him.
“Phileas. Phileas wake! Ye aren’a hurt – ‘s jus’ a dream.” She threw her weight against his other arm, ignoring what would eventually be bruises where he’d grabbed her shoulder, trying to keep him still as he tried to push her away. “Phileas – hear me! I willna hurt ye. Phileas!”
After a few heartwrenching seconds, he stopped struggling, his eyes finally focusing on her face. “Aely?”
“Ligh’, Phileas. I didna think ye were going t’ wake.” Aely relaxed her hold on his shoulder as he sat up, his whole body beginning to shake. She gently drew him into an embrace, pressing her cheek against his, and wrapping the disheveled quilt around them both, hoping sheer warmth and force of will would drive the dream away – “’s a’righ’, love. Ye are a’righ’. ’s naught here but me."
Phileas leaned against Aelflaed for a moment, trying to separate dreams from reality. It wasn't a simple matter, especially since his new life had begun to make appearances in his nightmares of his old one. He blinked dazedly, feeling his heart hammering against his ribcage crazily. He then looked over at Aely, and down at his shaking hands, and felt guilty for waking her.
"T'day...or tonigh', eitherwhich...I gae back. We gae back. Cannae take another nigh' a' this. One way or th'eyther...'s got tae stop."
Stumbling down the stairs with a candle, she lit the lamp and slowly – almost painfully – pulled off her armor, setting oil soaked rags on a few of the particularly gunked up joints. Her shield would need to be hammered out again as well, but that was one of the benefits of living in the basement apartment under the armorer’s shop.
After what seemed like hours to her weary hands, she sat on the edge of her bed in a loose shirt and pants, idly combing her hair with her fingers, her brain racing as the bells at the harbor started up again, announcing another Frostwyrm attack. On the inside of her shield it said “He who guards doesn’t sleep”, but tonight she couldn’t fend off her eyelids any longer.
She peered across the room to the other bed where Phileas had been sleeping, over near the small stove and her cabinets of herbs. Her quilt was still there, lying in the rumpled remains of three nights without sleep. Leaving it there, she grabbed a heavy woolen cloak from the cedar chest that held her spare clothes and lay down, sinking into a wary sleep, her final thoughts wondering, not for the first time, if he’d been alright during the attacks.
*****
From somewhere in a dreamless haze, she thought she heard her name. She couldn’t tell, maybe it was just a dream. She heard it again, and couldn’t place the voice, her mind slowly teetering halfway between sleeping and consciousness, unsure of whether to wake up and answer.
When the voice continued, speaking something she couldn’t understand, she sat up – her eyes blinking into the utter blackness that filled the small room like ink. She fumbled for a match, lighting the small candle on the table at the foot of her bed, and nearly knocked it over as her eyes adjusted to the dim light in the room and she realized what was going on.
She scrambled off the bed to kneel on the floor beside the sleeping rogue. He’d wrapped himself in her quilt and was lying there, almost tucked under the edges of her own blankets. And he was dreaming, his face contorted as he struggled with some unseen foe.
Aely reached down to lay her hand on his shoulder, only to find her wrist grasped firmly in his long fingers. He struggled against her, his voice growing desperate as he tried to fend her off - as though she were attacking him.
“Phileas. Phileas wake! Ye aren’a hurt – ‘s jus’ a dream.” She threw her weight against his other arm, ignoring what would eventually be bruises where he’d grabbed her shoulder, trying to keep him still as he tried to push her away. “Phileas – hear me! I willna hurt ye. Phileas!”
After a few heartwrenching seconds, he stopped struggling, his eyes finally focusing on her face. “Aely?”
“Ligh’, Phileas. I didna think ye were going t’ wake.” Aely relaxed her hold on his shoulder as he sat up, his whole body beginning to shake. She gently drew him into an embrace, pressing her cheek against his, and wrapping the disheveled quilt around them both, hoping sheer warmth and force of will would drive the dream away – “’s a’righ’, love. Ye are a’righ’. ’s naught here but me."
Phileas leaned against Aelflaed for a moment, trying to separate dreams from reality. It wasn't a simple matter, especially since his new life had begun to make appearances in his nightmares of his old one. He blinked dazedly, feeling his heart hammering against his ribcage crazily. He then looked over at Aely, and down at his shaking hands, and felt guilty for waking her.
"T'day...or tonigh', eitherwhich...I gae back. We gae back. Cannae take another nigh' a' this. One way or th'eyther...'s got tae stop."