Post by Arwen on Feb 8, 2005 17:20:24 GMT -5
A flood of wakefullness hit her, though he did not move, not even to twitch an eyelid. A presense had formed above her, and was now still. It was back to the olden times, when Dima was a lad, and he found his way to her bedside in the middle of the night wanting to play. She had learned to mask that she was awake, and eventually he would sleep again.
But this was not Dima. Dima did not live here any more. Dima was a man now, Captain of the Guard of Avalbane. His mother was alone in the white stone house, but not so much so. And the presense was most certainly not Dima's.
For a long while she lay, awaiting the removal of the presense from her. But the only movement was long minutes later, to move closer.
A hand was above her when she opened her eyes, and she grabbed at that wrist as soon as she could see, and unsheathed a dagger from its customary place at her thigh in naught but a split second.
But the other hand caught hers, forced the blade out of her hand, until each of these two was holding one of the others hands.
"Aricin!"
"Aricin."
"I'm sorry for startling you, Seremidal," he mummered after a long moment of silence, standing and turning to walk away.
"Aricin, why are you here?"
"Just watching you sleep."
She raised a brow, examining his features in the dim light of the fire. "Watching me sleep?"
"Yes, watching you sleep. I was just leaving when you awoke so I beg your pardon. Again, I apologize for waking you.
"Why did you lean over me?"
"Hmm?"
"Why?"
"To move the chair."
"Not like that you don't. Not that far over me."
He was silent, caught. And still he begged an excuse. "To straighten the covers."
"Mmhmm..."
He arched a brow and turned away again.
Seremidal tucked her knees into herself and draped her arms over them, resting her chin on her arms. "Aricin."
He turned once more, sighed wearily, and closed the distance between them a few steps, then stopped, and crossed arms over his chest, waiting.
"Leave without your kiss?"
"What?"
"I know what you were doing now you fool. And you weren't straightening the blankets. Not with your hand poised like that."
"You didn't even know who it was until you saw me."
"You were leaning too far over to be straightening the blankets, which were already straight. Perhaps your hand held a blade, which is why I drew mine--"
"A blade! Honestly, Serimi--"
"Not you, Aricin."
"Then who?" he finally asked, arching both brows this time. "Who would approach you with a blade? Not another--"
"Not another vision," she replied softly. Another sigh, gazing up complacently. "Aricin, I'm afraid. Ever since Efion... I'm been afraid, I--"
"Seremidal, that was, what, sixty years ago? Why didn't you say something?"
"Because I don't want to be a burden. Think I was going to run to you for something so trivial? And you know I don't like it in the citadel."
Your fears are not trivial, he wanted to plead. But instead, he sighed, turned on his heel, and left.
She gave no protest.
But this was not Dima. Dima did not live here any more. Dima was a man now, Captain of the Guard of Avalbane. His mother was alone in the white stone house, but not so much so. And the presense was most certainly not Dima's.
For a long while she lay, awaiting the removal of the presense from her. But the only movement was long minutes later, to move closer.
A hand was above her when she opened her eyes, and she grabbed at that wrist as soon as she could see, and unsheathed a dagger from its customary place at her thigh in naught but a split second.
But the other hand caught hers, forced the blade out of her hand, until each of these two was holding one of the others hands.
"Aricin!"
"Aricin."
"I'm sorry for startling you, Seremidal," he mummered after a long moment of silence, standing and turning to walk away.
"Aricin, why are you here?"
"Just watching you sleep."
She raised a brow, examining his features in the dim light of the fire. "Watching me sleep?"
"Yes, watching you sleep. I was just leaving when you awoke so I beg your pardon. Again, I apologize for waking you.
"Why did you lean over me?"
"Hmm?"
"Why?"
"To move the chair."
"Not like that you don't. Not that far over me."
He was silent, caught. And still he begged an excuse. "To straighten the covers."
"Mmhmm..."
He arched a brow and turned away again.
Seremidal tucked her knees into herself and draped her arms over them, resting her chin on her arms. "Aricin."
He turned once more, sighed wearily, and closed the distance between them a few steps, then stopped, and crossed arms over his chest, waiting.
"Leave without your kiss?"
"What?"
"I know what you were doing now you fool. And you weren't straightening the blankets. Not with your hand poised like that."
"You didn't even know who it was until you saw me."
"You were leaning too far over to be straightening the blankets, which were already straight. Perhaps your hand held a blade, which is why I drew mine--"
"A blade! Honestly, Serimi--"
"Not you, Aricin."
"Then who?" he finally asked, arching both brows this time. "Who would approach you with a blade? Not another--"
"Not another vision," she replied softly. Another sigh, gazing up complacently. "Aricin, I'm afraid. Ever since Efion... I'm been afraid, I--"
"Seremidal, that was, what, sixty years ago? Why didn't you say something?"
"Because I don't want to be a burden. Think I was going to run to you for something so trivial? And you know I don't like it in the citadel."
Your fears are not trivial, he wanted to plead. But instead, he sighed, turned on his heel, and left.
She gave no protest.