[Dark Ages] Evesham

[sotongeistooc.livejournal.com]

( More knights and vampires! )

 

A Dream of Death, Despair and Desire

[yoda-ic.livejournal.com]

He stirs in his sleep; images rise from his subconscious and torment him while he slumbers.

A plane as endless as eternity, the horizon fleeing before him faster than he can guess distance; a wide and infinite expanse, with only one feature of note: it is empty.

His body writhes under the sheets as his unconscious mind torments itself.

Time passes - eons flash by - and still, he is alone. Nothing but the dust of ages around him. Wandering, he finds nothing, but still he feels the agony of loneliness. Eventually, he can bear it no more. Scrabbling in the dust, he latches onto something thin, cool and smooth. Curling on himself, he draws it down his arms, red blood spilling to the floor as he welcomes the light-headedness of blood loss.

Gasping, he awakes. Breathing heavily, his chest pounding, his partner is there, awake, comforting him as soon as he opens his eyes. He sits there, wrapped in her arms until his heartbeat drops and he regains his breath.

Moving to the bathroom, he splashes his face with water and gazes into the mirror. A face appears there, just for a moment - a spectral image, twisted and fae. He whirls and finds a scene of blood before him. There he lies, vacant and lifeless, his pale body resting in a bath of water turned pink from blood; a bloody razor blade - thin and sharp - dropped to the floor.

Staggering back to the bedroom in panic, he runs into the arms of his lover, who's soothing touch calms him. Kissing, his heart's soon beating fast again and they're soon doing more. In a state of bliss belying his recent panic, he barely notices that they're joined by others, multiple pairs of hands teasing and toying with him. Multiple mouths caress his flesh and he gasps, eyes opening to see his lover.. and his lover twice again.

Confused, he escapes their touch, backing away, barely noticing the spectral figure reflected in the window. His lovers start to fight over him as he staggers towards the door, stumbling through it to find... a clock.

Dominating the room, the clock ticks back and forth, the steady motion resonating through the room and each toll booming; resounding in his soul. Each toll wears him down, the clockwork motion taking a part of his sanity with every tick; reducing him to a balled-up wreck in the corner.

He starts awake, his lover already awake and comforting him, woken by his fitful sleeping. She soothes and reassures him, holding him in a tight embrace, but he can't relax; he's unsure if this time, if this time he's awake.