She wakes up in the middle of the second night, drenched in sweat and struggling to breathe. The moon is hidden, and the fire has burnt down to nothing; the dark is so complete that she might as well be blind. Blind, or back in that tiny, airless cell the Capitol locked her in after her rebellion. The bed feels cold and empty, the air clammy against her skin. She fumbles for a light, and for a moment feels - actually feels - her fingers bruise against the too-smooth wall of a Capitol cell before reality kicks in.
It takes her several tries to light the candle. She sits up in bed, her shift plastered to her body, a scream still sitting in the base of her throat, and looks over at the empty space beside her, and weeps. She feels like a child, alone in the dark, and she hates it, because she ought to be stronger by now. She's a grown woman, a Healer, a shieldmaiden. She ought to be stronger than the ghost of the Capitol.
Eventually, she settles down, blows out the candle, and tries to sleep again. It's all of five minutes before she surges out of the bed, crying out in fear and grief and frustration, to pace wildly around the room. About half an hour after that, the lock of Jack's door rattles open, and Éowyn walks in, ghostly in her sweat-drenched shift, a candle in her hand. Her hair is loose and tangled around her shoulders, and she walks with none of her usual confidence. She sits on the edge of his bed, still holding the candle up, and presses her lips together.
"This is your fault," she tells him, unsure whether he's even awake to hear it. "It was never this bad before, not since first I returned. And if ever you breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll carry out the King's first sentence myself."
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sforzinda
clearly i went with what was behind door number one. the nightmare door.
Date: 2016-08-22 12:10 am (UTC)It takes her several tries to light the candle. She sits up in bed, her shift plastered to her body, a scream still sitting in the base of her throat, and looks over at the empty space beside her, and weeps. She feels like a child, alone in the dark, and she hates it, because she ought to be stronger by now. She's a grown woman, a Healer, a shieldmaiden. She ought to be stronger than the ghost of the Capitol.
Eventually, she settles down, blows out the candle, and tries to sleep again. It's all of five minutes before she surges out of the bed, crying out in fear and grief and frustration, to pace wildly around the room. About half an hour after that, the lock of Jack's door rattles open, and Éowyn walks in, ghostly in her sweat-drenched shift, a candle in her hand. Her hair is loose and tangled around her shoulders, and she walks with none of her usual confidence. She sits on the edge of his bed, still holding the candle up, and presses her lips together.
"This is your fault," she tells him, unsure whether he's even awake to hear it. "It was never this bad before, not since first I returned. And if ever you breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll carry out the King's first sentence myself."