I will follow you into the dark

[cordy_estwynde]

Who: Cordy and Hood
What: Doing a little dance. Making a little love. Basically getting down tonight. Talking
When: Monday Night
Where: Sort-of-Cave

Comments

[itworks_bitches]

Hood was dreaming. Wild things, vague impressions of green fire, of chlorine gas and gunshots, blond hair, red hair; long brunette curls that brush his face, his hands; blood and fear and sand... endless sand, dry and forboding, throat parched and begging, begging for the cool green welcome of the forest, of the dryads, and yes, he would give his eyes, give his hands gladly if he could only know, could only go back and please let him go back.

Go back home. With the gunshots and the screaming, and people telling him what to do, pointing him at a problem and saying "go." Saying "do it, now, or people will die." As opposed to the desert, to the city of stone, to the city of trees, where people will die regardless, and it is still to him to solve the problem; only he doesn't know what it is, and he doesn't know how to speak the language, and Christ, he's so tired

[cordy_estwynde]

She hadn't meant to wake him--hadn't realized she'd woken him until she heard his voice. After the moment of surprise, some back part of her mind realized that he was speaking in a quiet tone, but it had seemed so loud--then again, the desert was just so quiet at night, anything would seem loud.

"I'm sorry," she spoke after a pause, and she pulled her hand away from his face. She wasn't sure why she should feel so awkward just touching him. They'd certainly done their fair share of touching when they'd both still been in Jhelbor, but everything seemed different. He seemed different, and she couldn't help feeling that the only reason he was allowing her to sleep beside him now was to prevent the cold

[itworks_bitches]

"No," he said. "It's all right." While his dreams weren't exactly nightmares, he didn't exactly regret having them be interrupted.

She was nervous, and that didn't sit well with him, though he understood the impulse. He reached out a hand, more than a little blind, but extrapolating from the last known position of her hand, from the angle she'd pulled it away; tracing his fingers lightly over her arm before resting them on her neck, just over her pulse. He didn't really want to talk, but he didn't want to sleep, either; and he was concerned about her. He did care.

"What's wrong?"

[cordy_estwynde]

Hood's touch rested on her pulse, and a steady and unladylike stream of curses flowed through her mind. She was nervous, she knew her heart was beating faster than normal, and though she was an adept liar--what kind of courtier wasn't?--she wasn't quite able to control her pulse.

"Nothing," she said with a smile, and her voice lilted. Her pulse sped up, she could feel it, and she couldn't think of any way to slow it down again. This was beyond her expertise.

"Go back to sleep," she gently chided. "It's the middle of the night." Or at least, she thought it was. It was hard to tell. And a last, feeble "Nothing's wrong."