Who: Stephen Cornfoot When: Sunday evening Where: His flat What: Another dream plagues Stephen. [Prophecy] Rating: Pg-13 Open/Closed: Closed
He's laying in a field of golden wheat. A gust of wind dances through the stalks and they ripple and wave like really he's floating in an ocean. The sky is as blue as he has ever remembered it being and the clouds are thick, puffy things that take on familiar shapes. He points, his hand is small, so small.
"And that one is a unicorn, I see it, I see it," he tucks his hand behind his head and Grandma Esther's voice carries softly on the wind.
"Good, Stephen. Good. And what do unicorns mean to us?"
"Everlasting life."
The cloud in question is followed by his eyes as it seems to grow darker and darker, more swollen by the second. The other clouds begin to take on a gray color as well and that endless blue is now the color of a purple bruise. He begins to turn his head to tell his grandmother they should go inside but what lays beside him is no longer the friendly face of his beloved grandmother. It is a sunken cheeked corpse that still retain Grandma Esther's bright green eyes. He screams in terror as the corpse speaks.
"And what of dead unicorns, Stephen?" says the corpse. He jerks his face back to the cloud just in time to see the neck of the seen unicorn split with heavy rain breaking through. The rain is hot on his skin and red, red, red.
Because it's blood. It's raining blood.
Then he's running in the darkness through a forest heavy with wild beasts and danger. He knows he isn't allowed here but it doesn't seem to matter. He has to ... Godric, he has to save...
Stephen stops dead at the line of trees that surround a lake. He holds his breath and everything in the forest grows still. Even the birds rustling in the trees are silent as death. The only movement comes from across the way where Stephen watches a woman, pale as a ghost, work her way across the lake like it's nothing more than glass for her. She steps lightly and quickly across the lake, glides like a ghost but he knows she is more than that.
He's dragging his small fingers over his face and then he is staring at the blood splattered over his skin. He turns to the corpse and finds it's no longer the corpse of his grandmother, but rather it is a unicorn breathing heavily it's last breath. It's throat is slit and it knows it's dying but there is nothing to be done. Stephen reaches out a hand to gently touch the beast but it's eyes glaze over before he can offer any comfort.
"What does it mean if it's dead, Stephen? What does it mean?"
Stephen awakes with a sharp pain in his chest. His heart is racing, his breath is difficult to catch and godric he's gone and passed out over his journal. He reaches a hand up to touch the slick, dampness that is on his cheeks and pulls his fingers back uneasily. It's not blood, just tears.