Post by wordy on Oct 29, 2012 19:23:03 GMT 10
Title: Witch Moon
Rating: G
Word Count: 481
Summary: Terrors in the night.
A/N: Set shortly after The Fire in the Forging/Daja’s Book.
Daja kicked the sheets away from her legs and kept her eyes resolutely shut, the better to fool herself into sleep. But sleep didn’t come easily, hadn’t since Gold Ridge; the warm nights swindled her skin into sweating, and with the heat came a rush of memories, smoke in her lungs, fire in her veins—
She sighed and opened her eyes. The wind outside Discipline was strong enough to bend the saplings Rosethorn had planted, yet her body felt not a whit of cool air, even with both her small windows open. Thunder grumbled in the distance, quietly. Every now and then a flash of lightning would brighten her room, setting her bed and dresser aglow with soft moonlight.
“Daj’, you awake?”
The sound of footsteps. Briar’s hair was bed-messed and sticking up on one side. He stood by the side of her bed, one knee nudging against the mattress.
“Very,” said Daja. She brushed her braids off her neck and propped herself up on an elbow, belatedly thankful that she was wearing a nightgown and not one of her old tunics. “What is it?”
“I can’t sleep.” Briar looked abashed. “There’s—a draft, or somethin’. In my room.”
A draft. Daja’s skin tingled in envy. She sighed forlornly, and lightning flickered again. “Fine. But no kicking. Or snoring.”
It was different sleeping with another person beside her. She was reminded of sleeping amongst her younger cousins aboard Third Ship Kisubo, huddled close and breathing the same air.
Except she still wasn’t actually sleeping.
Beside her, Briar tensed suddenly.
“What?” she whispered.
“Did you feel that?” He brushed at his arm, squinting about the darkened room. “It’s like cold fingers.”
Daja stilled. She couldn’t feel anything. There was a bit of a breeze reaching her from the windows now, and her body was beginning to cool. She could still hear distant thunder. Discipline was quiet.
Briar yelped and fell off the edge of the bed. The bedroom door creaked on its hinges; wind howled its way past her ear and she felt chill fingers on her neck. Gooseflesh broke out on her arms and legs, sending a shiver racing down her spine.
There was a thump from upstairs. Daja tried to sharpen her hearing, fighting down another shiver and struggling to block out Briar’s whispered, “I told you! I told you!”
A noise—sounding suspiciously like a cackle—cut off.
In the darkness, Daja rolled her eyes and lay down again. Briar timidly got back onto the bed and did the same. “The storm, that’s all,” she told him, and turned onto her side, pillow tucked tight between her cheek and shoulder.
She felt a little bad, but still couldn’t help a grin.
He’ll probably puzzle it out in the morning, she sent to Tris.
Probably, came the reply. There was a smugness to Tris’s voice, though. Goodnight, Daja.
’Night, Tris.
Rating: G
Word Count: 481
Summary: Terrors in the night.
A/N: Set shortly after The Fire in the Forging/Daja’s Book.
Daja kicked the sheets away from her legs and kept her eyes resolutely shut, the better to fool herself into sleep. But sleep didn’t come easily, hadn’t since Gold Ridge; the warm nights swindled her skin into sweating, and with the heat came a rush of memories, smoke in her lungs, fire in her veins—
She sighed and opened her eyes. The wind outside Discipline was strong enough to bend the saplings Rosethorn had planted, yet her body felt not a whit of cool air, even with both her small windows open. Thunder grumbled in the distance, quietly. Every now and then a flash of lightning would brighten her room, setting her bed and dresser aglow with soft moonlight.
“Daj’, you awake?”
The sound of footsteps. Briar’s hair was bed-messed and sticking up on one side. He stood by the side of her bed, one knee nudging against the mattress.
“Very,” said Daja. She brushed her braids off her neck and propped herself up on an elbow, belatedly thankful that she was wearing a nightgown and not one of her old tunics. “What is it?”
“I can’t sleep.” Briar looked abashed. “There’s—a draft, or somethin’. In my room.”
A draft. Daja’s skin tingled in envy. She sighed forlornly, and lightning flickered again. “Fine. But no kicking. Or snoring.”
It was different sleeping with another person beside her. She was reminded of sleeping amongst her younger cousins aboard Third Ship Kisubo, huddled close and breathing the same air.
Except she still wasn’t actually sleeping.
Beside her, Briar tensed suddenly.
“What?” she whispered.
“Did you feel that?” He brushed at his arm, squinting about the darkened room. “It’s like cold fingers.”
Daja stilled. She couldn’t feel anything. There was a bit of a breeze reaching her from the windows now, and her body was beginning to cool. She could still hear distant thunder. Discipline was quiet.
Briar yelped and fell off the edge of the bed. The bedroom door creaked on its hinges; wind howled its way past her ear and she felt chill fingers on her neck. Gooseflesh broke out on her arms and legs, sending a shiver racing down her spine.
There was a thump from upstairs. Daja tried to sharpen her hearing, fighting down another shiver and struggling to block out Briar’s whispered, “I told you! I told you!”
A noise—sounding suspiciously like a cackle—cut off.
In the darkness, Daja rolled her eyes and lay down again. Briar timidly got back onto the bed and did the same. “The storm, that’s all,” she told him, and turned onto her side, pillow tucked tight between her cheek and shoulder.
She felt a little bad, but still couldn’t help a grin.
He’ll probably puzzle it out in the morning, she sent to Tris.
Probably, came the reply. There was a smugness to Tris’s voice, though. Goodnight, Daja.
’Night, Tris.