(no subject)
She's seen this place many times before during this long winter, the same images tumbling and falling through her nights until she had finally been able to make sense of them. In the days of those first dreams she had been too young in power, too new to her gift to realize where she was-- and it had taken repeated dreaming for her to realize that she had been deceived not by where, but by when. A seer's dreams twist and loop through time, she now knows, and with that knowing she had been able to look through the blurring of her inner vision and see truly.
Now, Kim Ford walks with clear sight in her dream, moving forward across the starlit grass, passing over now-familiar ground before pausing in the shadow of a monolithic stone to look out at Stonehenge as it had once stood, three thousand years ago. She looks toward the grave of a dead king who will lie silent until the time comes for her to raise him by the strength of the need within her and the power of the Warstone on her finger, and as always the sorrow threatens to drown her with grief.
But as she has before, this time again she hardens her heart as much as she can, making herself and the sorrow within her as much a stone as the boulders by which she stands-- and this time as she does the sky above is suddenly filled with falling stars as the ground under her feet twists, turning her away from Stonehenge, spinning her down a loop of time until she finds herself standing on a peaceful shore and looking outward once more.
It is an image of near-heartbreaking beauty, this green, green island in the middle of a glass-still lake, lit in silver by the thin new crescent of the moon overhead. Once, she would have wept at the sight and the knowledge, at the rising memory within her of a furious young man with white hair like her own and a choking fear within him. Once she would have wept, and not so very long ago at that, despite all that has been said and done.
Here at last, however, is the place she has sought-- and she has been waiting too long, far too long for this moment, this knowledge, to see the place of summoning. Even as her unconscious cry splits the Toronto night with a despairing plea, here within the deepest part of herself Kim knows that there is far too much need to allow room within her now for the space of grief or the solace of tears.
Now, Kim Ford walks with clear sight in her dream, moving forward across the starlit grass, passing over now-familiar ground before pausing in the shadow of a monolithic stone to look out at Stonehenge as it had once stood, three thousand years ago. She looks toward the grave of a dead king who will lie silent until the time comes for her to raise him by the strength of the need within her and the power of the Warstone on her finger, and as always the sorrow threatens to drown her with grief.
But as she has before, this time again she hardens her heart as much as she can, making herself and the sorrow within her as much a stone as the boulders by which she stands-- and this time as she does the sky above is suddenly filled with falling stars as the ground under her feet twists, turning her away from Stonehenge, spinning her down a loop of time until she finds herself standing on a peaceful shore and looking outward once more.
It is an image of near-heartbreaking beauty, this green, green island in the middle of a glass-still lake, lit in silver by the thin new crescent of the moon overhead. Once, she would have wept at the sight and the knowledge, at the rising memory within her of a furious young man with white hair like her own and a choking fear within him. Once she would have wept, and not so very long ago at that, despite all that has been said and done.
Here at last, however, is the place she has sought-- and she has been waiting too long, far too long for this moment, this knowledge, to see the place of summoning. Even as her unconscious cry splits the Toronto night with a despairing plea, here within the deepest part of herself Kim knows that there is far too much need to allow room within her now for the space of grief or the solace of tears.