In Tom and Door's Bedroom
It's been a few weeks since Tom encountered Marjory Stewart-Baxter again. It's been fewer still since she laid her eggs in his arm.
Tom doesn't know about the latter. It's probably just as well.
He has noticed strange bumps raised along the skin near the crook of his elbow. Sometimes the rash is vaguely itchy, but he keeps forgetting to do anything about it. There's far too much else on his mind at the moment.
Of more concern are the weird dreams he's had lately.
Tonight, he sleeps - finally - after a long night of annoying negotiations with the Goodge Street Guild. Curled next to him is Door, and it is she who wakes first, as he tosses and turns.
In his dream, he walks the lakeside at Milliways, and he is restless, brooding. Something must be prepared, but he doesn't know what or where to find it. He wanders around, looking under rocks, peering into the dark water.
There is a crack overhead - lightning arcs across the sky - but it never does that by the lake. Does it?
Tom looks up. Something small falls onto his face and he winces, brushing it away. Something lands in his hair, and he grabs for it. It's a tiny... finger puppet???? He is covered in a rain of them, their combined weight pressing him down, down, down...
He wakes with a start. Door leans over him, her hand gently touching his face. Neither are strangers to nightmares and waking in the night.
"You okay?" she murmurs.
He nods, eyes wide. "I think so." The images are already fleeing his mind. "There was something falling on me, covering me, and I couldn't move."
"Better than some of the others. Most of the others." She presses a kiss to his cheek.
He breathes in deeply. "You're definitely right about that. Sorry I woke you. I hope you can go back to sleep, darling."
She snuggles against him. "That won't be a problem," she yawns, her eyes closing.
Tom rearranges the rumpled bed clothes. Before he closes his eyes again, he scratches the itch near his elbow. He really needs to apply an ointment or drink a potion to take care of that...
Then he's asleep once more. The eggs in his arm grow and thrive as they await their time to hatch and make their way into the world.
Tom doesn't know about the latter. It's probably just as well.
He has noticed strange bumps raised along the skin near the crook of his elbow. Sometimes the rash is vaguely itchy, but he keeps forgetting to do anything about it. There's far too much else on his mind at the moment.
Of more concern are the weird dreams he's had lately.
Tonight, he sleeps - finally - after a long night of annoying negotiations with the Goodge Street Guild. Curled next to him is Door, and it is she who wakes first, as he tosses and turns.
In his dream, he walks the lakeside at Milliways, and he is restless, brooding. Something must be prepared, but he doesn't know what or where to find it. He wanders around, looking under rocks, peering into the dark water.
There is a crack overhead - lightning arcs across the sky - but it never does that by the lake. Does it?
Tom looks up. Something small falls onto his face and he winces, brushing it away. Something lands in his hair, and he grabs for it. It's a tiny... finger puppet???? He is covered in a rain of them, their combined weight pressing him down, down, down...
He wakes with a start. Door leans over him, her hand gently touching his face. Neither are strangers to nightmares and waking in the night.
"You okay?" she murmurs.
He nods, eyes wide. "I think so." The images are already fleeing his mind. "There was something falling on me, covering me, and I couldn't move."
"Better than some of the others. Most of the others." She presses a kiss to his cheek.
He breathes in deeply. "You're definitely right about that. Sorry I woke you. I hope you can go back to sleep, darling."
She snuggles against him. "That won't be a problem," she yawns, her eyes closing.
Tom rearranges the rumpled bed clothes. Before he closes his eyes again, he scratches the itch near his elbow. He really needs to apply an ointment or drink a potion to take care of that...
Then he's asleep once more. The eggs in his arm grow and thrive as they await their time to hatch and make their way into the world.