Adia Connor (dewyeyed_way) wrote in britannia_ny, @ 2010-02-21 20:52:00 |
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Current mood: | scared |
Entry tags: | adia connor, arthur |
attn: Arthur
Adia is still having dreams, since they got back from the Florida vacation, but this is the worst one she's ever remembered. She's not sure why, just that it is, that it intensely fills her head and her eyes in a way none of them ever have.
She doesn't even know the particulars of it. She remembers the fire, her hands and feet bound to the stake while the brush beneath her burns, and she remembers Lancelot, his sword cutting down the Orkney princes, their bright blood staining the grass dark brown, and somewhere in the middle of it all she remembers Arthur, stern-faced and solemn. She remembers him in his brown cloak, standing against the cold wind, his teeth clenched against his jaw to keep his resolve strong, and his fine sword gleaming in his hand.
His sword. The sword. She can't remember the name of it, only the winter sun shining off the blade. Then the fire is burning her feet away, Lancelot's horse is charging through the grounds, the men are falling like water tumbling over a cliff.
She wakes up screaming.