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| Lord Dayton of Hashville | May 6 2009, 10:01 PM |
A Song Always Brings Me Back To You
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And then the dream, which she'd only had a night to dream but enough hours to have it repeated over and over, always ended the same, with the same callous, unloving and most realistic, tangible moment of all. "No wonder father loved you best, his heartless little soldier.” * She saw a figure at the corner of her eye, the silhouette familiar but only slightly so, and took the mare another turn by foot. Unbeknownst to Seren she'd noticed the familiar stranger before, for who he was, and only the will not to be broken into further, tinier, sharper pieces had stopped her recognising him instantly. Another turn and she did, though, her heart a tumult of painful proportions. She stopped, hands cold but firm around the reins as she remembered her stoicism and her barriers – newly rebuilding themselves to stronger things – and approached; mare following dutifully behind, a thick cloud of steamed breath almost a veil. “I suppose Cymru does want you after all then, Iorwerth.” She wouldn't break, not for him, not again. Seren-before the worst ...*flails*...*clings* |
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| Quotes IV · Quotes | |
5:57 PM Nov 28
