[ While the sound of the young Emmanellain's voice reaches her ears, Alkaid does not truly wake. Her actions instead seem to be far more of instinct and an awareness on some level that things in the room have changed. A small distressed sound comes from her, and her arms tighten around his frame. She turns her head slightly against him, as if asking him not to leave her. Her tail even curls to her body.
A dream comes to her once their visitor has left. One of days when she wore robes of white with bronze colored ties and a thick white hood with fur lining it. Days when her sister had her hair dyed for the passing of their friend they were unable to save. The more specific day of when the man she had already realized she loved decided to face his father about the truth of the war. They all attempted to stop him, saying it could be dangerous or with folly, but he insisted otherwise. Events that would lead to his capture and his time in the Vault. A time when he had hugged her in relief as they broke him free of the chains that held him down before they attempted to chase after the Archbishop.
In this dream, however, she does reach out to the draped fabric on his armor. Her hand curls in it and she tugs, eyes trying to find his. He can't speak to his father. She can't protect him there--not that he has ever asked for or even needed her protection. She fears she may not see him again, for what would stop the Archbishop from ordering the death of the Lord Commander and justifying it as heresy? ]
... don't go. [ Alkaid's words are mumbled in her sleep, but there is no doubt that Aymeric most certainly hears them. ] He'll hurt you... he'll take you away... from me...
[ Of course, her pleas do not stop the stoic knight she has so utterly fallen for. A note of her concern is appreciated and he steps from the doors of House Foretemps with a mission in his mind. Alkaid tries to run after him, only to find herself standing outside in the snowfall. ]
... Aymeric, please... [ Where did you go? Come back. Come home.
Perhaps it is not merely a dream, and more images and memories of things she wishes she had said once upon a time. ]
no subject
A dream comes to her once their visitor has left. One of days when she wore robes of white with bronze colored ties and a thick white hood with fur lining it. Days when her sister had her hair dyed for the passing of their friend they were unable to save. The more specific day of when the man she had already realized she loved decided to face his father about the truth of the war. They all attempted to stop him, saying it could be dangerous or with folly, but he insisted otherwise. Events that would lead to his capture and his time in the Vault. A time when he had hugged her in relief as they broke him free of the chains that held him down before they attempted to chase after the Archbishop.
In this dream, however, she does reach out to the draped fabric on his armor. Her hand curls in it and she tugs, eyes trying to find his. He can't speak to his father. She can't protect him there--not that he has ever asked for or even needed her protection. She fears she may not see him again, for what would stop the Archbishop from ordering the death of the Lord Commander and justifying it as heresy? ]
... don't go. [ Alkaid's words are mumbled in her sleep, but there is no doubt that Aymeric most certainly hears them. ] He'll hurt you... he'll take you away... from me...
[ Of course, her pleas do not stop the stoic knight she has so utterly fallen for. A note of her concern is appreciated and he steps from the doors of House Foretemps with a mission in his mind. Alkaid tries to run after him, only to find herself standing outside in the snowfall. ]
... Aymeric, please... [ Where did you go? Come back. Come home.
Perhaps it is not merely a dream, and more images and memories of things she wishes she had said once upon a time. ]