The dream always opened differently from the memory; she was freed of her Evanuris cage, and she fled to his embrace. Perhaps that was how she had wanted the reality to go, to flee into waiting arms, to see a familiar knowing smile grace his lips. For things to be... normal, to be back to what they had before, before he'd gotten lost and she'd fallen into old habits. It always opened with his arms around her. Her feet leave the ground with little effort as she was lifted into his arms. Embraced, held close.
It's certainly a memory, somewhere, of another time. But it was not the right memory opening for this dream. It was never the same, always a little different. On nights where her mind was truly seeking madness, he was harsh and cold. He was anything but warm towards her. It was guilt; she knew. She'd never lose that guilt. Guilt over loving Magnus, while she loved Francesco, too. Their circumstances had not been their own—she'd been with Magnus before, receiving her orders to kill the prince. And she'd been a foolish girl to think that she might avoid falling for a rascal when every woman to look his way would bare their flesh for him.
If history were repeated, would she still let herself waltz into his heart? The difference between those other girls and the dancer had been that the prince had barely glanced at women which bared themselves for him. But she had done everything but offer herself; and she had not loved him until it snuck up on her like a wolf crouched in the brush, stalking its prey. Love was not blind... no, love was harsh. A terrible mistress that led people astray from the tasks they were given.
And yet she had loved, and she had loved dearly. It had derailed her life, the Talon that had trained her, hoped she would do more for the Crows. Would she rise through the ranks? Would she claim the crown for the Crows? She had done nothing but love like a stupid little girl. And she had done nothing but kill, like the scavenger they had wished she might become.
But the dream was quickly dissolving. From a husband that held her and twirled her in a bout of happiness at the sight of her, it quickly melted away to a flame circle that engulfed her entire life. Watching eyes peered from the crevices of the darkness. The only light was firelight, and she was on the wrong side. Pleading, begging, crying out, but her voice was gone. Her throat would not release the sounds that she was desperately trying to convey. He'd not listened. The nightmare was reminding her that he had not listened; he had not heeded. Not until it was too late. Moments gone past, where he slipped through her fingers and derailed into a less than safe environment.
The flames licked at her flesh but did not burn her, and she glared up at the likeness of the Evanuris, and her limbs began to move of their own acco... no, of his accord. It was stiff, and then fluid, as he overpowered her will entirely. She'd never known to expect something so sly. The man seemed like he needed to be looked upon, worshipped as the sunlight itself. And yet, he could be crafty and sly. Eularia was distraught as her hand raised the blade from its sheath.
Crying, sobbing breaths that didn't allow for enough air. She hardly noticed that there were new eyes watching from the darkness.
It's certainly a memory, somewhere, of another time. But it was not the right memory opening for this dream. It was never the same, always a little different. On nights where her mind was truly seeking madness, he was harsh and cold. He was anything but warm towards her. It was guilt; she knew. She'd never lose that guilt. Guilt over loving Magnus, while she loved Francesco, too. Their circumstances had not been their own—she'd been with Magnus before, receiving her orders to kill the prince. And she'd been a foolish girl to think that she might avoid falling for a rascal when every woman to look his way would bare their flesh for him.
If history were repeated, would she still let herself waltz into his heart? The difference between those other girls and the dancer had been that the prince had barely glanced at women which bared themselves for him. But she had done everything but offer herself; and she had not loved him until it snuck up on her like a wolf crouched in the brush, stalking its prey. Love was not blind... no, love was harsh. A terrible mistress that led people astray from the tasks they were given.
And yet she had loved, and she had loved dearly. It had derailed her life, the Talon that had trained her, hoped she would do more for the Crows. Would she rise through the ranks? Would she claim the crown for the Crows? She had done nothing but love like a stupid little girl. And she had done nothing but kill, like the scavenger they had wished she might become.
But the dream was quickly dissolving. From a husband that held her and twirled her in a bout of happiness at the sight of her, it quickly melted away to a flame circle that engulfed her entire life. Watching eyes peered from the crevices of the darkness. The only light was firelight, and she was on the wrong side. Pleading, begging, crying out, but her voice was gone. Her throat would not release the sounds that she was desperately trying to convey. He'd not listened. The nightmare was reminding her that he had not listened; he had not heeded. Not until it was too late. Moments gone past, where he slipped through her fingers and derailed into a less than safe environment.
The flames licked at her flesh but did not burn her, and she glared up at the likeness of the Evanuris, and her limbs began to move of their own acco... no, of his accord. It was stiff, and then fluid, as he overpowered her will entirely. She'd never known to expect something so sly. The man seemed like he needed to be looked upon, worshipped as the sunlight itself. And yet, he could be crafty and sly. Eularia was distraught as her hand raised the blade from its sheath.
Crying, sobbing breaths that didn't allow for enough air. She hardly noticed that there were new eyes watching from the darkness.
11-03-2023, 03:32 PM
