| Roughing It (Nanshe) |
[08 Apr 2008|02:18pm] |
Since coming to the range, they'd experienced nothing but rain. Of course, what degree of rain usually made a very large difference in how miserable he was. Downpours were a twelve on a ten scale. Light drizzle just a five. The worst part, of course, was not even the misery. No, the worst part was that he was enjoying himself. Sleeping in whatever cave or reasonably dry construct he could make for the night. Carrying his pruning saw over one shoulder, covered in well-oiled leather to keep from ruining the blade. Staring at endless rows of trees to find the ones he was looking for, then dragging what he managed to find behind him - bundled together with as much rope as he could spare from the length he'd brought with him. This was what freedom really felt like. And his thoughts of four days ago, on the roof of Nanshe's palace in India, came back to him. The farther away he was from Alathea, the better he felt. She'd always unsettled him in one way or another, even if he didn't like to admit it. So what he'd experienced - was it that discomfort, or something else? Either way he needed to work through it, but at least he'd know if the frustration he felt was real or not.
( It was going well. )
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| lullaby (morrigan) |
[08 Apr 2008|10:33pm] |
not work safe! ye be warned!
... the night before this
There came a point when Morpheus's resolve weakened so much, when his brother's torment of Makaria wore him down so far that he was vulnerable to the pull of dreams that he would normally steer very clear of. He felt those dreams, wove them no matter what, of course... but there were certain dreamers whose activity registered in the black, on the outskirts of the god's consciousness. Dreams he did not touch, just ran from afar.
Because he'd learned, long ago, not to get involved.
Dream was distracted, was putting all of his energy into trying to stop Mak's nightmares. Tonight he was vulnerable. ( Tonight, someone was going to take advantage. )
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