Nightmares
Sep. 12th, 2010 03:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
malicebenevolenceWild dreams of Bill, her Bill.
Dreams of their children, in mortal peril.
Death. Flame.
Her eyes snapped open, blinking painfully in the suddenly sunlight. The breath in her lungs rushed out all at once, and as oxygen began to fill her lungs again, her brain told her it was just a dream, though her heart still beat against her ribs.
Her hands moved over the sheets, over her stomach, and fanning out across the silk sheets again, her blue eyes fixed, unfocused, on the ceiling.
It was time to go home. It had been a long time since she'd felt at home, at ease, in France, and she missed her Bill, and her children desperately, and the sound of the sea crashing against the cliffs, and the call of the birds....she sighed, blinking for the first time in minutes. Eyelids closed, then opened, and she forced herself to sit up, her body complaining at the sudden movement. She needed to ensure those she loved were safe. Needed to see with her own two eyes. Her heart still beat against her ribs. She needed to leave; now.
The light pink nightgown flowed gently around her body as the wind stirred, the smell of autumn invading her flat. She threw things into her small suitcase, not bothering to fold or organize. She flitted around the open room, almost in a blind panic, throwing open the windows and the door that lead to the small patio. Her parents would close them later. It didn't matter.
She had accomplished little on this particular journey. All her research had yielded very little this time around, and the remaining Deatheaters were still elusive and as sneaky as ever. The remainder was still at large. Her brow furrowed, marring the Veela perfection in her face. And the dreams, oh God, the dreams. She'd floo'd after the dreams, at the most random parts of the night, woken Bill up (thank God there was a fireplace in their room), and had been assured...it wasn't enough anymore.
As she slipped into a supple, light green dress, her mother knocked softly on the door, smiling slightly. She hadn't told her parents about the nightmares. They would worry, and that was the last thing she needed. Their farewells were always bitter-sweet; those with her sister were even more so. She was distracted all through the farewells, and the hugs. A small part of her was aware enough of how fake her goodbye's were. She would apologize later, if she remembered. She could feel the anxiety, weighty, on her chest, constricting her lungs. She could barely breathe, and her hands trembled. They didn't notice. She tried not to run to the nearest secluded spot, but to step carefully as if everything were normal, and her brain wasn't on fire, as if she could breathe, and fear didn't gnaw at her very soul.
Home called. Her husband called. Her children slipped in and out of her dreams, calling her name. Screaming her name. Screaming. Dying.
It was time to return.
Dreams of their children, in mortal peril.
Death. Flame.
Her eyes snapped open, blinking painfully in the suddenly sunlight. The breath in her lungs rushed out all at once, and as oxygen began to fill her lungs again, her brain told her it was just a dream, though her heart still beat against her ribs.
Her hands moved over the sheets, over her stomach, and fanning out across the silk sheets again, her blue eyes fixed, unfocused, on the ceiling.
It was time to go home. It had been a long time since she'd felt at home, at ease, in France, and she missed her Bill, and her children desperately, and the sound of the sea crashing against the cliffs, and the call of the birds....she sighed, blinking for the first time in minutes. Eyelids closed, then opened, and she forced herself to sit up, her body complaining at the sudden movement. She needed to ensure those she loved were safe. Needed to see with her own two eyes. Her heart still beat against her ribs. She needed to leave; now.
The light pink nightgown flowed gently around her body as the wind stirred, the smell of autumn invading her flat. She threw things into her small suitcase, not bothering to fold or organize. She flitted around the open room, almost in a blind panic, throwing open the windows and the door that lead to the small patio. Her parents would close them later. It didn't matter.
She had accomplished little on this particular journey. All her research had yielded very little this time around, and the remaining Deatheaters were still elusive and as sneaky as ever. The remainder was still at large. Her brow furrowed, marring the Veela perfection in her face. And the dreams, oh God, the dreams. She'd floo'd after the dreams, at the most random parts of the night, woken Bill up (thank God there was a fireplace in their room), and had been assured...it wasn't enough anymore.
As she slipped into a supple, light green dress, her mother knocked softly on the door, smiling slightly. She hadn't told her parents about the nightmares. They would worry, and that was the last thing she needed. Their farewells were always bitter-sweet; those with her sister were even more so. She was distracted all through the farewells, and the hugs. A small part of her was aware enough of how fake her goodbye's were. She would apologize later, if she remembered. She could feel the anxiety, weighty, on her chest, constricting her lungs. She could barely breathe, and her hands trembled. They didn't notice. She tried not to run to the nearest secluded spot, but to step carefully as if everything were normal, and her brain wasn't on fire, as if she could breathe, and fear didn't gnaw at her very soul.
Home called. Her husband called. Her children slipped in and out of her dreams, calling her name. Screaming her name. Screaming. Dying.
It was time to return.
