Alanna of Trebond (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_lioness) wrote2005-01-21 02:37 pm
the_lioness) wrote2005-01-21 02:37 pm
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Sometimes the quiet made her twitch with apprehension, as if something large and disastrous loomed nearby, waiting to strike. Maybe it was the way silence tended to remind her of being stuck on the slopes of Old Chitral, all noise blanketed by the blizzard that had almost stifled her own voice forever. Maybe it was simply being forced to listen to her thoughts without the distraction of duty. It was easy to assure yourself that you chose the right path when you didn't have time to either question your motives or pay attention to the voice in the back of your head. A marked absence of noise had been waking her up well before dawn lately, leaving her uneasy and vaguely frightened. Alanna just can't shake the feeling that something is very, very wrong.
On this particular morning, she woke up shivering, her head spinning with nightmarish images of Roger torturing everyone she had ever cared for. The last thing she remembered was being forced to watch as Thom was engulfed by bright orange flames, the color of Roger's Gift. Thom's eyes had been eerily hollow, reflecting the flames. No hint of her brother had remained in the empty shell of his body. His voice, however, had called to her from far away, the tone unnaturally shrill; Sister, save me! His plea rang in her head, ominously loud in the external silence. I can't save you, Thom! It's too late. You belong to the Black God now. Furiously wiping at hot tears, she rolled onto her side and watched Peter sleep.
Peter. He slept soundly, his brow furrowed as if he were having some great internal debate about the nature of power. Peter remained an enigma. Not for the first time, Alanna wished she could catch just a tiny glimpse of what was going on in his head. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to dispel the random feelings of insecurity that seemed to go hand in hand with her current anxiety. It proved impossible, and Alanna was once again left wondering exactly what Peter felt for her, and why he was here. Smiling sadly, she brushed a stray piece of hair off his forehead and gently kissed him. Her hands shook, and she slowly clenched her fists. He doesn't know about Alex. He doesn't even know about Thom's Gift.
The thought of Thom's Gift made her whimper. Alanna knew she was playing with power beyond her control, but she had been unable to use Tim's armband as much as she had hoped. She would siphon off the energy, panic and take it back. She had convinced herself that Roger would somehow get ahold of the armband and bend it to his will, stealing Thom's Gift again and dooming them all. Muttering a curse, Alanna jumped out of bed, taking a moment to pull the covers over Peter in an attempt to ward off the winter chill. Trembling, she stalked over to the fire and collapsed on the rug. There was too much and too little of everything. One moment the world looked brighter than a thousand suns. The next it was as gray and bleak as night in the Black God's realm.
She had been in possession of Thom's gift for far too long now. It was beginning to play with her mind.
Goddess, I wish Peter knew. I need him to know. I just want someone to hold me and understand. That's all. She frowned, irritated by this sudden need. Knights didn't need anyone else; they stood on their own two feet. Her conscience chose that moment to snap at her, reminding her that George knew. George understood. Alanna flinched, biting her lip against the urge to punch something. Yes, but he's part of the problem, isn't he?
The problem was, she wanted Peter to look at her the way George did, and that scared her.
She also wasn't sure how she would feel if George ever began to look at her any other way.
Goddess. She pulled on her breeches and a sweater, pausing to watch Peter again for several minutes. Her eyes welled up until he was nothing more than a blurry shape amidst the blankets. Alanna sniffed, exiting the room as quietly as she could. She would go train. Physical exertion always put things in perspective, or at least muzzled the voices in her head.
On this particular morning, she woke up shivering, her head spinning with nightmarish images of Roger torturing everyone she had ever cared for. The last thing she remembered was being forced to watch as Thom was engulfed by bright orange flames, the color of Roger's Gift. Thom's eyes had been eerily hollow, reflecting the flames. No hint of her brother had remained in the empty shell of his body. His voice, however, had called to her from far away, the tone unnaturally shrill; Sister, save me! His plea rang in her head, ominously loud in the external silence. I can't save you, Thom! It's too late. You belong to the Black God now. Furiously wiping at hot tears, she rolled onto her side and watched Peter sleep.
Peter. He slept soundly, his brow furrowed as if he were having some great internal debate about the nature of power. Peter remained an enigma. Not for the first time, Alanna wished she could catch just a tiny glimpse of what was going on in his head. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to dispel the random feelings of insecurity that seemed to go hand in hand with her current anxiety. It proved impossible, and Alanna was once again left wondering exactly what Peter felt for her, and why he was here. Smiling sadly, she brushed a stray piece of hair off his forehead and gently kissed him. Her hands shook, and she slowly clenched her fists. He doesn't know about Alex. He doesn't even know about Thom's Gift.
The thought of Thom's Gift made her whimper. Alanna knew she was playing with power beyond her control, but she had been unable to use Tim's armband as much as she had hoped. She would siphon off the energy, panic and take it back. She had convinced herself that Roger would somehow get ahold of the armband and bend it to his will, stealing Thom's Gift again and dooming them all. Muttering a curse, Alanna jumped out of bed, taking a moment to pull the covers over Peter in an attempt to ward off the winter chill. Trembling, she stalked over to the fire and collapsed on the rug. There was too much and too little of everything. One moment the world looked brighter than a thousand suns. The next it was as gray and bleak as night in the Black God's realm.
She had been in possession of Thom's gift for far too long now. It was beginning to play with her mind.
Goddess, I wish Peter knew. I need him to know. I just want someone to hold me and understand. That's all. She frowned, irritated by this sudden need. Knights didn't need anyone else; they stood on their own two feet. Her conscience chose that moment to snap at her, reminding her that George knew. George understood. Alanna flinched, biting her lip against the urge to punch something. Yes, but he's part of the problem, isn't he?
The problem was, she wanted Peter to look at her the way George did, and that scared her.
She also wasn't sure how she would feel if George ever began to look at her any other way.
Goddess. She pulled on her breeches and a sweater, pausing to watch Peter again for several minutes. Her eyes welled up until he was nothing more than a blurry shape amidst the blankets. Alanna sniffed, exiting the room as quietly as she could. She would go train. Physical exertion always put things in perspective, or at least muzzled the voices in her head.