Reverie memories

[lowstorm]

Silver strands of hair drift into her eyesight. Looking up from the small garden within the young grove of trees, a dark haired woman comes into sight. Joy fills her, and she runs across the short distance, slowing to a stop a step away from the elven woman with brown eyes.

"Your home. Wheres father? Hello mother. How was the trip?" The words sound happy, blurted out quickly. The woman just smiles and hold her arms out, and the two quickly embrace. "Aranel, my daughter. When are you going to learn patience?" Her voice has a ring of laughter in it. "Yes, we arrived home a few hours ago, he is unpacking, hello daughter, and it was pleasant." She grabs Aranel by the shoulders, pushing her back slightly to look at her. "I trust you have behaved yourself while we were gone?"

The large brown pair of eyes stare at her for a moment. The answer needn't actually be answered, they know each other well. With a nod of the head, and a turn of the body, the small camp is in sight. Few people can be seen walking between the nearly invisible homes.

***

Walking into one, a man with silver hair comes into view. A slight breeze kicks her own silver hair into her eyes once again, and he turns. He tips his head slightly in greeting, then continues to unpack. Speaking clearly but without looking up, he addresses her. "I am told you have learned a bit of bow work since the last we saw you."

She sighs, blowing air from her lips up, sending her hair askew, then nods. Still not looking up, he speaks again. "I do hope you are staying for dinner before going back." With a quick nod of her head, she leaves the quaint dwelling. Father never says more than needed...

Walking down a faint pathway trailing through the trees, a small red flower grow tucked away in between two roots. Her garden comes into sight, and she returns to caring gingerly for the flowers.


Waking slowly from her peaceful reverie, she shifts slightly, feeling arms around her. Moving her head to look behind her, she sees dark hair mingling with her own silver. Sliding out of his arms, she walks quietly to the pond. Looking into the still water of the morning, she sees the brown eyes staring back at her from her dream. The silver hair from the man falling forward, covering her cheeks.

Hearing his breathing change slightly, she runs her fingers through the water, distorting the image. Turning, she slides back into his arms, laying her head back on his arm. She smiles softly, no longer moving as his breathing returns to how it was before she moved.



*** not anywhere done yet, more IS coming, when I decide to find time.***

[lowstorm]

Unable to move her body, only hearing words. Her mind was able to move momentarily from her current position.. remembering.

***

The meal had been nice. The words spoken mumbles, the memory past. Sitting around a small fire, surrounded by stone, the three shared stories, talking about the past years they had spent apart.

A scream tears through the night. Father stands, grabbing his bow and walking out. Mother stood in the doorway looking out. More screams shatter the silence, arrows heard as they were sent through the air. The twang of bowstrings heard, and the sound of steel clashing rent the air.

Mother reaches for her scabbard near the doorway, slowly belting it around her waist. She darts out into the night. Standing there, hearing battle sounds. The fire pops, more screams heard. There is no air, the cloth covering the framed doorway hanging limp. The sounds move farther away. Looking around the room, no weapons. My bow.. Her head shakes.

Stepping out. Silently, walking. Hearing sounds not heard before around the home. Bodies. Arrows in bodies. Elven, all, but... some, unknown. Dark skin.

Fear.

***

Weak. Pitiful. The words echo through her soul as she is frozen in place.

***

Scrambling through the dark. Seeing flashes of brown cloth standing in the trees. Flashes of darker, softer cloth, the sight of blood. The smell of blood thick in the air. Darting around a building, seeing the brown hair and eyes of her mother.

Breath lost, air gone. The black cloth behind mother. Watching mother come closer, the bowstring pulled taught. The arrow moves slowly. A scream splitting her lips, feeling both the blood and mothers arms hit her at the same time. A prick in her chest, the ground hitting her back. Mother's words whispered as she breaths her last. *Run and live.*

The arms around her stiffen. Blood pools around them, running hot down her sides. Soft boots step near them almost silently. *Don't breathe. Don't move an eyelash. *Thoughts run through her mind. A kick in the side... *don't flinch, be dead. * The arrow protruding through mothers chest hitting her own, rubbing. *Be limp.*

A smile. He smiled. Overconfident, thinking he killed two in one shot, he dashes off. Sounds of battle diminish. *Don't move. Too soon. Eyes may be watching.* The blood grows cold under her.

***

Pitiful. Weak. The black clothed man walks away, his magics swirling around him. Still frozen by his spell, the red robed man stands there, watching her.

***

Being drug. More bodies. The wood nearby. Fires in the homes. Piles of treasures sacred to us being loaded up. Seeing, unblinking. *Don't move. Don't breathe. Live*

They move on, the troop of them gathering their dead. Slipping out. Wetness covering her. Blood. Blood of her family.*Rock there, don't trip. Silent* The darkness of the wood envelops her. A well-known path. Running. The trees once familiar blurring together. Tripping. The red flower crushed under her palm as she falls. Scrambling, dirt beneath her fingers. The familiar trail brings her to the garden, long tended. Looks dead, a corpse laying in it. The flowers now black with blood in the night.

***

Movement. Looking up at the one in red, saying nothing. Walking into Isinhold. Looking down, red covering her arms. Droplets fall. Unable to stop the bleeding. Walking around, not wanting them to see. They can't see... They shouldn't know. The caves, the bathhouse. The warm water stinging. Wrapping the wounds. Shaking hands, wrapping. Walking to the inn. Kale, tall, looking down at her. A key, yes... stumbling up the stairs. Opening the door, blood dripping on the floor. *Won't stop...*

The bath is hot again. Stinging. Unwrapping under the water. Red water. Covering her clothes. Red drips to the floor. Footsteps. Black clothes, looking at her. Red hair, bright green eyes. Talking to her. The two words sting her.


Jolting to consciousness, sitting upright. Alone, the trees her ceiling. Two words whisper from her lips quietly. She looks at her right arm, still scarred. A single tear traces down her cheek.

*Whispered into the night* Well done.