Alanna of Trebond (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_lioness) wrote2005-07-30 12:39 am
the_lioness) wrote2005-07-30 12:39 am
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It takes awhile for the headache to abate enough for Alanna to stand and walk outside, heading once more for the stables and escape. As much as she loves the bar, the thought of staying inside tonight (trapped and torn) makes her want to scream, but then again, maybe screaming would help. She ponders this, biting her lip hard and reminding herself to keep going, one foot in front of the other. The stables aren't far, and she can recuperate there. The dim light, the smell of hay and the sound of horses breathing and snorting in their sleep will calm her down.
Peace - a rare commodity these days.
Taking a deep breath, she glances around and tries to ignore the pounding in her skull. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches sight of a couple wrapped around each other, the woman's hands lightly tracing the man's face before they kiss. It's gentle, caring and a little bit sad, and Alanna sighs wistfully, wincing as her head protests. She moves on, pausing briefly by a tree to take a deep breath, her eyes drawn to the couple again. The kiss is a bit more intense, and the woman moves closer, her fine hair falling forward. Frowning, Alanna tries to get a better look at his face; it seems familiar. The light shifts, revealing Adam.
Goddess, it hasn't even been a full day yet.
She blinks, not really sure what else there is to do, and tears her eyes away. The warm light from the stables nearby seems brighter than it should. Knocking her fist against the tree trunk, she sniffs and fights down the urge to growl or yell, and makes her way inside. Mithros butts his head against her hip as she closes the stall door for the night and heads toward her corner, currently outfitted with several blankets and a small pillow. As soon as she is settled against the wall, he comes over and ruffles her hair with his warm breath.
"I'll thank you not to eat my hair, Mithros. I heard from young Lisa that you mistook hers for hay. That's not how I taught you to behave, you know." She smiles as he shakes his head and nips her hair again. Sighing, she reaches up to run her hand over his warm nose. "Someday we'll have grand adventures together, you and I. This will all seem like a distant dream."
A year has passed. One year ago, Roger made the earth shake and almost rained destruction on us all, but we survived. Some of us, at least. Tortall survived.
Jon's coronation does seem like a distant dream, even after the stress of Delia's trial brought it all back again. Alanna stretches her legs out and finally rests her head on the cool pillow, staring up at Mithros.
"Well, you're less accommodating than my bed partner last night, but you'll do." She swallows, trying to think about something -anything- else. Forget. She lets her mind drift to her conversation with Delia and suddenly feels extremely grateful for all the gifts she had been given over the last year. New friends, old friends, adventure and love.
Thom.
Smiling, she lets her eyes drift shut, resolving to let herself cry over Peter soon. She's too tired now. Besides, the smell of the hay and Mithros' steady breathing ease the ache in her head and make her feel less alone.
Peace.
With any luck, she'll have another night's rest without dreaming of Roger.
Peace - a rare commodity these days.
Taking a deep breath, she glances around and tries to ignore the pounding in her skull. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches sight of a couple wrapped around each other, the woman's hands lightly tracing the man's face before they kiss. It's gentle, caring and a little bit sad, and Alanna sighs wistfully, wincing as her head protests. She moves on, pausing briefly by a tree to take a deep breath, her eyes drawn to the couple again. The kiss is a bit more intense, and the woman moves closer, her fine hair falling forward. Frowning, Alanna tries to get a better look at his face; it seems familiar. The light shifts, revealing Adam.
Goddess, it hasn't even been a full day yet.
She blinks, not really sure what else there is to do, and tears her eyes away. The warm light from the stables nearby seems brighter than it should. Knocking her fist against the tree trunk, she sniffs and fights down the urge to growl or yell, and makes her way inside. Mithros butts his head against her hip as she closes the stall door for the night and heads toward her corner, currently outfitted with several blankets and a small pillow. As soon as she is settled against the wall, he comes over and ruffles her hair with his warm breath.
"I'll thank you not to eat my hair, Mithros. I heard from young Lisa that you mistook hers for hay. That's not how I taught you to behave, you know." She smiles as he shakes his head and nips her hair again. Sighing, she reaches up to run her hand over his warm nose. "Someday we'll have grand adventures together, you and I. This will all seem like a distant dream."
A year has passed. One year ago, Roger made the earth shake and almost rained destruction on us all, but we survived. Some of us, at least. Tortall survived.
Jon's coronation does seem like a distant dream, even after the stress of Delia's trial brought it all back again. Alanna stretches her legs out and finally rests her head on the cool pillow, staring up at Mithros.
"Well, you're less accommodating than my bed partner last night, but you'll do." She swallows, trying to think about something -anything- else. Forget. She lets her mind drift to her conversation with Delia and suddenly feels extremely grateful for all the gifts she had been given over the last year. New friends, old friends, adventure and love.
Thom.
Smiling, she lets her eyes drift shut, resolving to let herself cry over Peter soon. She's too tired now. Besides, the smell of the hay and Mithros' steady breathing ease the ache in her head and make her feel less alone.
Peace.
With any luck, she'll have another night's rest without dreaming of Roger.