[Open, multiple threads welcome] There's a game that lady's playing you don’t want to understand.
Murphy hasn't been sleeping well.
Rather, she's been sleeping very well lately, and that's kind of part of the problem.
Every night - or morning, depending on when she takes a turn patrolling the wall - as soon as she lays down, she's out. No dwelling on the day, the week, the month. No ruminating. No worrying about the list of who's gone missing now or where they might be or whether it's even worth the risk of trying to find them. Just sleep, from the moment she closes her eyes.
Sleep, and dreams. They've been tame, for the most part. Nothing like her usual nightmares. Just her, under a blue sky on a clear summer day, peaceful and at home in the arms of a redheaded woman whose face she can never quite see. Safe. Safe the same way she imagines her nephews feel when she tucks them in and kisses them goodnight and doesn't tell them that the monsters they're afraid of may not be under the bed, but they are out there. Really truly at peace in a way she doesn't remember feeling for a very, very long time.
Tonight's dream ended with the redheaded woman kissing her neck and whispering, "You're home, my little one" and Murphy had woken up in the dark with the mark Kitsune left on her neck tingling pleasantly.
Now, she's out under the big tree near the library, tucked in between two tall roots and for once thankful she's as short as she is. She has her eyes closed and her head tilted back, is barefoot, and is at the moment scratching the mark Kitsune left on her neck raw to try and get the stupid feeling to go away.
Rather, she's been sleeping very well lately, and that's kind of part of the problem.
Every night - or morning, depending on when she takes a turn patrolling the wall - as soon as she lays down, she's out. No dwelling on the day, the week, the month. No ruminating. No worrying about the list of who's gone missing now or where they might be or whether it's even worth the risk of trying to find them. Just sleep, from the moment she closes her eyes.
Sleep, and dreams. They've been tame, for the most part. Nothing like her usual nightmares. Just her, under a blue sky on a clear summer day, peaceful and at home in the arms of a redheaded woman whose face she can never quite see. Safe. Safe the same way she imagines her nephews feel when she tucks them in and kisses them goodnight and doesn't tell them that the monsters they're afraid of may not be under the bed, but they are out there. Really truly at peace in a way she doesn't remember feeling for a very, very long time.
Tonight's dream ended with the redheaded woman kissing her neck and whispering, "You're home, my little one" and Murphy had woken up in the dark with the mark Kitsune left on her neck tingling pleasantly.
Now, she's out under the big tree near the library, tucked in between two tall roots and for once thankful she's as short as she is. She has her eyes closed and her head tilted back, is barefoot, and is at the moment scratching the mark Kitsune left on her neck raw to try and get the stupid feeling to go away.