Room 218, Tuesday Morning
Karla's dreams that night had been fleeting and quiet; while the flotsam and jetsam from events of the past few days had trickled into her unconscious and filtered into her dreams, her mind knew the difference between those and true dreams, tangled dreams.
Except, something happened right before dawn to change all that.
In her dream, Karla was on the beach, having a picnic with a friend. Tim, and they're talking Protocol. Wait, no, it was Warren, and they're eating a fabulous lunch. Or was it Raven, and they were talking about Arella? It didn't matter. Halfway through the dream, a large wave came in, washing over Karla and pulling her back to sea. A hand clutched for her wrist, but she was dragged away, turning over and over and over again, caught by the water that didn't seem to want to let her go.
For a moment, dream-Karla was filled with terror, the fear that she would drown. And then the wave relented, softened, cradled her instead of yanking at her. And with all the gentleness of a mother's touch...
...she is deposited on another shore. This one was just as familiar as the beach at Fandom--moreso, even. In the distance, she can see her estate rearing up above the trees. She is at the loch, building sandcastles out of the wet sand at the edge of the shore. Behind her, she can hear her parents murmuring to each other. They are both here for once, and that makes Karla very happy. They don't get to spend much time together as a family; her mother is the Queen and her father the Consort and they are Very Important and Busy. Karla, beloved though she may be, is neither and has learned to cherish the time she could spend with them, their attention on her and not important Court matters.
If you dream them, they will come.
She is tired after all the swimming she has done today, and heads back up to share their blanket. There isn't much room on it, but she is very small and manages to curl up between them. It is cool, with a wet wind blowing, but they are warm and being snuggled against them makes Karla feel safe and loved and happy. There is a part of her that demands she remember this feeling, cling to it, hold it in reserve for the future, but such dark thoughts have no place here. She is nestled against her mother and father and cannot imagine things ever being different.
If you dream them, they will come.
Tuckered out and drowsy, little Karla starts to fall asleep--within her dream. As if from a great distance, she can hear her parents speaking. "We should go," her mother says reluctantly. "I know Faldren wishes to speak to me before Court this evening."
"Not yet, my love," her father cajoles. "Karla's just about to nod off. Give her a few more minutes? Let her fall asleep in her mother's arms."
Karla makes a sleepy noise of agreement and she can almost feel her mother's smile. "For a few minutes more," her mother agrees, "but then we must go. Karla's nurse can bring her home when she wakes." Karla tries to protest--no! She doesn't want to wake up on this beach, cold and alone!--but it is lost in the sound of crashing waves and a voice that whispers:
If you dream them, they will come.
Karla woke, thin morning sunlight streaming through her window. Salt water stained her pillow and at first, she thought that she really had been at the beach. Bringing her hand up to her still-wet cheeks, she realized no, that wasn't seawater. They were tears.
[Mostly establishy, but open later in the morning if anyone wants to stop by.]
Except, something happened right before dawn to change all that.
In her dream, Karla was on the beach, having a picnic with a friend. Tim, and they're talking Protocol. Wait, no, it was Warren, and they're eating a fabulous lunch. Or was it Raven, and they were talking about Arella? It didn't matter. Halfway through the dream, a large wave came in, washing over Karla and pulling her back to sea. A hand clutched for her wrist, but she was dragged away, turning over and over and over again, caught by the water that didn't seem to want to let her go.
For a moment, dream-Karla was filled with terror, the fear that she would drown. And then the wave relented, softened, cradled her instead of yanking at her. And with all the gentleness of a mother's touch...
...she is deposited on another shore. This one was just as familiar as the beach at Fandom--moreso, even. In the distance, she can see her estate rearing up above the trees. She is at the loch, building sandcastles out of the wet sand at the edge of the shore. Behind her, she can hear her parents murmuring to each other. They are both here for once, and that makes Karla very happy. They don't get to spend much time together as a family; her mother is the Queen and her father the Consort and they are Very Important and Busy. Karla, beloved though she may be, is neither and has learned to cherish the time she could spend with them, their attention on her and not important Court matters.
If you dream them, they will come.
She is tired after all the swimming she has done today, and heads back up to share their blanket. There isn't much room on it, but she is very small and manages to curl up between them. It is cool, with a wet wind blowing, but they are warm and being snuggled against them makes Karla feel safe and loved and happy. There is a part of her that demands she remember this feeling, cling to it, hold it in reserve for the future, but such dark thoughts have no place here. She is nestled against her mother and father and cannot imagine things ever being different.
If you dream them, they will come.
Tuckered out and drowsy, little Karla starts to fall asleep--within her dream. As if from a great distance, she can hear her parents speaking. "We should go," her mother says reluctantly. "I know Faldren wishes to speak to me before Court this evening."
"Not yet, my love," her father cajoles. "Karla's just about to nod off. Give her a few more minutes? Let her fall asleep in her mother's arms."
Karla makes a sleepy noise of agreement and she can almost feel her mother's smile. "For a few minutes more," her mother agrees, "but then we must go. Karla's nurse can bring her home when she wakes." Karla tries to protest--no! She doesn't want to wake up on this beach, cold and alone!--but it is lost in the sound of crashing waves and a voice that whispers:
If you dream them, they will come.
Karla woke, thin morning sunlight streaming through her window. Salt water stained her pillow and at first, she thought that she really had been at the beach. Bringing her hand up to her still-wet cheeks, she realized no, that wasn't seawater. They were tears.
[Mostly establishy, but open later in the morning if anyone wants to stop by.]