|Cassandra Bane (oracleofdelphi) wrote in cirque_rp,|
@ 2017-11-23 17:31:00
Who: Catherine [Narrative]
What: Even sleep isn't safe.
When: November 2nd, very early
Where: Her trailer
Warnings: Brief mentions of sexual content.
Catherine was in a deep and pleasant slumber. Her husband was warm beside her and she was slick and worn after Callum's attention that night. She had known he was... needy when she married him and she loved it. Some of the best sleep she had was after sex when her mind was too dazed to really do anything else. Her dreams, for the most part, were negligible. She had no reason to remember them. The ones that did stick out made sure she remembered them and knew them for what they were. They felt wrong, had full technicolor when other things were washed out or sounds she knew she never heard or... Well, lots of things.
This time, she had been dreaming that she was in a mall, shopping for a cow but when she stepped through the doors to the cow store, the world had gone... different. Her clothing had changed to something white, flowing, like the ancient oracles who she had dreamed of many times before murmuring secrets in her ears. The ground was thick with mist and though her feet were bare, she couldn't tell what it was made out of. There was nothing she could properly see but she could sense a crowd - only it wasn't a crowd. She knew what it was to be surrounded by bodies and she could feel their presence now but nothing was visible. Catherine turned in place, trying to catch a glimpse of anything that wasn't fog but no, she was in an empty world.
A sound breached the emptiness - one she'd only heard once before. It was a time in Northern Ireland when the Templars - the proper ones with actual moralities and not the idiots in Rome - had been trying to recruit her. She'd been invited to an estate for a weekend and to a rather upsetting fox hunt. But the horn she heard echoing through the fog was just like that one. No dogs followed but there was a chill in her bones and she knew she had to wake up. Catherine closed her eyes...
And then she awoke with a start, sitting up and exhaling deeply. She rubbed her face with her hands for a moment and then grabbed the journal she kept on her nightstand, pencil nestled inside. Carefully, quietly, she slid out of bed and scurried off to the bathroom. After a few minutes of writing and taking care of her personal needs, she'd gotten a glass of water and sipped it in silence for a moment while she thought. None of that vision even made sense - though that was certainly not anything new. They rarely made sense even when they did. Catherine scrunched up her nose and poured out the rest of her water so she could crawl back in bed.
She could tell Callum was on the verge of wakefulness and really didn't want to go into it right now - not when she was still confused and exhausted. So she put her journal away and slid back under the covers, trying very hard not to think about all the things a hunter's horn could symbolize or signal... There was just too much. But if she dwelled on every random vision she got, she'd never get to sleep. Perhaps other pieces of the puzzle would arrive eventually. For now, it was best not to worry.