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meejI was going to write something completely different, and then I got sidetracked by Bruce Springsteen. Faolan Oreas Allar belongs to Foof. Djahne is mine.
"The dream was like this," Djahne said abruptly. He put aside his knitting, thrusting the needles through the parent-skein with patience to avoid knots. "I was under the summer skies, at four marks past the hour of the Bat at night -"
"The Bat? Not midnight?" The Captain had a distracted expression, and he hadn't put aside the blade he was sharpening. The steady whicker of the blade against the leather strip was soothing, and for a second Djahne was tempted to just let go of the conversation, mutter "forget it", and listen to his heartbeat come into sync with the Captain's stropping.
"No, the stars said it was - I don't reckon it matters; the hour's always the Bat for true dreams," Djahne said. It'd been a mistake to put away his knitting. Something this important needed his hands busy, to put all of his dithering into motion and keep it away from his tongue. He took off his hat and began worrying the brim.
"Fine. The middle of the night," the Captain said.
"And then the sun rose out of the east," Djahne said. "Where it rose, it burned, and kept burning, and everywhere the light touched went dry as the Llano Estacado, wicked away every drop of wet and glimpse of green, and everywhere went gold, and then dark, and then black completely, black as bone and dry as dust and dead and haunted and awful."
The Captain stopped his sharpening, put the blade to one side, and stared at him. "You keep having this dream?"
Djahne felt no better for having shared. "Yeah."
"Have you told the Prince?"
Djahne shook his head. "I figured I'd give it to you first." He hesitated, then said, "And the White Colt gave me this dream. Reckon that if He'd wanted the Prince to know, maybe He would've told the Prince first."
The Captain exhaled, and picked up his sword again. "The sun loves Elysia," he said shortly. "How long have you been having this dream?"
"All summer long," Djahne said, truthfully. He didn't mention that he'd also been having it since Princess Akhet had first visited Knossos. He wasn't sure if that was a coincidence, and if it was, it might be embarrassing to go jawing about it.
"I'll see what I can do," the Captain said. He sighed. The Captain had been having long, hard days lately. It was part of why Djahne had waited so long before coming to him with the dream, but the Bat always brought true dreams.
"Thanks, Kunzite," Djahne said, putting on his hat. He gathered up his knitting and shoved it into a pocket.
"Don't thank me," the Captain said. "Just keep doing your job, Nephrite. We'll drive the nightmares back."
Oh my lord that could benefit from editing, but I'm making a pact with myself that I have to get the words out, no more editing than the transition from paper to typeset. At least, not until a week later.
"The dream was like this," Djahne said abruptly. He put aside his knitting, thrusting the needles through the parent-skein with patience to avoid knots. "I was under the summer skies, at four marks past the hour of the Bat at night -"
"The Bat? Not midnight?" The Captain had a distracted expression, and he hadn't put aside the blade he was sharpening. The steady whicker of the blade against the leather strip was soothing, and for a second Djahne was tempted to just let go of the conversation, mutter "forget it", and listen to his heartbeat come into sync with the Captain's stropping.
"No, the stars said it was - I don't reckon it matters; the hour's always the Bat for true dreams," Djahne said. It'd been a mistake to put away his knitting. Something this important needed his hands busy, to put all of his dithering into motion and keep it away from his tongue. He took off his hat and began worrying the brim.
"Fine. The middle of the night," the Captain said.
"And then the sun rose out of the east," Djahne said. "Where it rose, it burned, and kept burning, and everywhere the light touched went dry as the Llano Estacado, wicked away every drop of wet and glimpse of green, and everywhere went gold, and then dark, and then black completely, black as bone and dry as dust and dead and haunted and awful."
The Captain stopped his sharpening, put the blade to one side, and stared at him. "You keep having this dream?"
Djahne felt no better for having shared. "Yeah."
"Have you told the Prince?"
Djahne shook his head. "I figured I'd give it to you first." He hesitated, then said, "And the White Colt gave me this dream. Reckon that if He'd wanted the Prince to know, maybe He would've told the Prince first."
The Captain exhaled, and picked up his sword again. "The sun loves Elysia," he said shortly. "How long have you been having this dream?"
"All summer long," Djahne said, truthfully. He didn't mention that he'd also been having it since Princess Akhet had first visited Knossos. He wasn't sure if that was a coincidence, and if it was, it might be embarrassing to go jawing about it.
"I'll see what I can do," the Captain said. He sighed. The Captain had been having long, hard days lately. It was part of why Djahne had waited so long before coming to him with the dream, but the Bat always brought true dreams.
"Thanks, Kunzite," Djahne said, putting on his hat. He gathered up his knitting and shoved it into a pocket.
"Don't thank me," the Captain said. "Just keep doing your job, Nephrite. We'll drive the nightmares back."
Oh my lord that could benefit from editing, but I'm making a pact with myself that I have to get the words out, no more editing than the transition from paper to typeset. At least, not until a week later.
