Comments | velesdonnersen: Morning, Dec. 17th.

velesdonnersen

Morning, Dec. 17th.

Dec 19, 2011 21:04

[Verdammt, what a dream. That's the first thing he thinks as he wakes up. Even waking, it makes his skin crawl -- and his temper blaze. Verdammt. Fire and hail. What in the name of the spark itself made him say he'd die if it was needed? He rises, stretches, and tries to scrub the eerie sense of displacement from his skin and scalp. He didn' ( Read more... )

what a terrible life, christmas event, doppeltarvek

Comments 17

ooeeooahah December 20 2011, 02:06:50 UTC

[ She answers the door, and lets him in without comment. She does seem to keep looking at him oddly. ]

velesdonnersen December 20 2011, 02:46:05 UTC

[Thank the gods and the little fishes, he's here. He happily slips out of his overcoat and scarf, hangs both in the coat cupboard, puts his fedora on a shelf, and schleps very contentedly into the kitchen.]

Coffee. Ilsa, have I told you I love you for your coffee? Among other things, of course. I am not so shallow as to adore you for the caffeine alone, but Red Fire, I haven't dealt with winter cold in too long.

[He pours himself a cup of coffee, doctors it to his tastes, and leans easily at the counter, smiling at her.]

Leibe, I had the most terrible dream last night... you would not believe. My sister... my dead sister, Anevka...she came back and told me I had to die to save the world. No, my world and Mayfield, both. And I agreed.

Insane.

[He is very much hoping she will laugh and scold him out of this itchy, uneasy, nasty feeling that's lingered with him since waking. He doesn't like it, not at all, and is practically ready to beg to be jarred out of it.]

ooeeooahah December 20 2011, 02:49:57 UTC

[ She doctors a cup for him, frowning in concentration. ]

That explains so much.

Tarvek... do you feel any different today?

velesdonnersen December 20 2011, 02:57:57 UTC

[Oh. Oh, dear. He can see this is not going well... and he's not sure why, but it's not doing a thing to make the hair on the nape of his head lie down, or stop the feeling of armies of ants marching over his ribs. Not good. So very not good...]

Leibe?

[He puts his coffee cup down, and moves to put an arm around her, saying,]

A dream, Ilsa. I had a dream, no more. Woke up feeling all wrong, all over. Ilsa?

Ilsa? What's wrong?

Thread 17