Post by lorki on Mar 22, 2011 0:36:04 GMT -6
Sleet stared through the dark at the ceiling overhead. She crossed her arms behind her head and exhaled, eyes trailing over the patterns in the rock. It was cloudy outside, so very little of the moonlight made it's way into the room but the sharp eyed ferret could see fairly well through the dark. Her fleeting moments of sleep had come and gone, filled with gruesome dreams. She'd woken hours ago, cold with sweat, shaking, reaching for her weapons that weren't there to stab at her demons. Sleets biggest problem had always been her inability to stick a knife into something that did not physically exists.
If it weren't for this damned Abbey, she thought, if it weren't for these damn walls. She was forced to lay and stare, there was no where to wander, no clouds to watch pass by, no possessions to toy with. While the hours of night went by and she stared uncomfortably in the privacy of lonely silence.
Eventually a pink hue crept into the room, signaling dawn. The ferret, who had been lost in thought for multiple hours, immediately rolled out of the bed. She had to do something. She'd itched all night long to turn a knife in her paw, flip through the pages of her book, feel the badger fur decorating her daggers. Those possessions of hers, she knew, were the only thing that convinced her of her life. Every night when she lay awake she could look at them and suddenly she knew the world; she didn't have to convince herself she wasn't evil, didn't have to ache to remember calmness.
In mere moments the ferret had pulled a heavy, warm shirt over her head and slipped out into the still silent halls of the abbey. She walked quickly, the same rout she often did, to the infirmary. She imagined Tirael would be there, dawn was a supreme time to die... No, she reminded herself, that was biased on her part because dawn was really a supreme time to kill. The dieing was just a side effect. Either way, the ferret stood before the doors of the infirmary, shut for the night, she thumped a fist against it, "Tirael, y'up?"
If it weren't for this damned Abbey, she thought, if it weren't for these damn walls. She was forced to lay and stare, there was no where to wander, no clouds to watch pass by, no possessions to toy with. While the hours of night went by and she stared uncomfortably in the privacy of lonely silence.
Eventually a pink hue crept into the room, signaling dawn. The ferret, who had been lost in thought for multiple hours, immediately rolled out of the bed. She had to do something. She'd itched all night long to turn a knife in her paw, flip through the pages of her book, feel the badger fur decorating her daggers. Those possessions of hers, she knew, were the only thing that convinced her of her life. Every night when she lay awake she could look at them and suddenly she knew the world; she didn't have to convince herself she wasn't evil, didn't have to ache to remember calmness.
In mere moments the ferret had pulled a heavy, warm shirt over her head and slipped out into the still silent halls of the abbey. She walked quickly, the same rout she often did, to the infirmary. She imagined Tirael would be there, dawn was a supreme time to die... No, she reminded herself, that was biased on her part because dawn was really a supreme time to kill. The dieing was just a side effect. Either way, the ferret stood before the doors of the infirmary, shut for the night, she thumped a fist against it, "Tirael, y'up?"
