In the Kingdom of sleep...Tala was dreaming of floating in peace-she could see nothing but warm green light. Normally she might be falling, but Pasha was here, there and everywhere-holding her hand, to keep her afloat. To keep her from drowning. There words, she could hear her other self somewhere below, confessing all the sins they had done, happily doing so. Maybe she could have stopped her...but why ruin this peace? They were both happy enough here.
Pasha was the walls of this vivid jade fortress. Infused and suffused inside and outside of her at the same time. He kept the nightmares at bay. Even Nod the King of Dreams was forced to turn back from his planned torment with a sigh.
Tenderness.
...Rest easy, my love. I'm here to watch over you. I'll always be here to watch over you....These words floated from some place. Pretty voice. Pashas voice. May I have this dance, my love? she asked...Both in the real world, and the dream world.
In the real world, her hand tightened over Pashas own-as in the dream world, they took each others hands, and began to spin in perfect harmony, to a heavenly choir that no mortal had yet conceived in this age.
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In the Houses of Healing...Scout Captain Wilheim was also being tended to by a doctor-he had given him some foul tasting tea to drink, that was supposed to speed his recovery. His wounds were serious, but he would survive. Not like so many of his men.
Detroyed. Thats what they said to him. Half his men gone. Incapable of combat.
Only when he had reunited with the column of troops-waking up to be borne on a stretcher by Lady Alanis's bodyguards, did he realize how bad the numbers really were. How many he had lost in the retreat.
He had shared meals with them. Laughed at the same bawdy jokes. Mended their broken arms and sliced open calfs while they winced in pain.
Now? Dead, dead, dead.
Wilheim was not usually an angry man-he prided himself on his self control. He ran a trembling hand through his red hair.
Then he threw the cup into the wall.
Then he laughed. Who cared about old Wilheim? He had lost his regiment. The Queen would not reward him with another. Neither Marshall Nikephoros nor General Kathos had spoken to him on the matter. He supposed that was proof enough of his failure, they had forgotten about him. From his point of view-as a soldier-he had failed his mission, failed his Queen, failed his country. He deserved this.
He did not want to believe what they said about the Queen-the other soldiers in the hospital, or the nurses. Everyone was saying something...No, he took it all on himself. He was a good soldier, loyal to his commanders.
He wondered if anyone would visit him. Probably no one. Then what? He takes his final pay cheque...and?
The lovey-dovey couple who had technically rescued him (ironically, he had trained Tala for a time) had a future ahead of them. A good one, if the Gods were kind-he wished them well. But, he didn't have one, not that he could see.
Wilheim thought he saw a shadow by the door. Marshall Nikephoros?
No, just a trick of the light and shadow...he closed his eyes. Sort of wishing that he was just imagining it.
OOC: I hope no one minds. Wilheim technically has no forces any more to command, so his loyalty won't affect the plot anyway.