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Oct. 30th, 2006 04:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bannion_sightBy now, she is familiar with the dream.
She stands before massive shapes of stone that lie jumbled amid wide grasslands, listening to the keening wail of the wind that blows around her. The stone on her hand burns a deep red in the approaching dusk, power and invocation, call and warning both at once.
She has been here before, she has walked this place in her dreams more times now than she can count, and Kim is no stranger to the silent demand of the gathered boulders and the wind that threatens to tear the words from her aching throat.
But it is not time, not yet, for she cannot see the other place, the next one, the last – the place of summoning, the hidden site where another man lies, dead father and guardian spirit whose secret she will wrench free with blood-red fire and her own sorrow like stone.
“Where are you!” she screams, instead, frustrated and tired and broken-hearted even here within the dream that she walks—for the summer has been long, and the autumn longer yet, and Kim Ford has never been called patient. “Where?”
As her cry echoes over empty lands and from fallen rocks, the wind dies suddenly—and in the next instant, everything shifts.
She is in a forest, now, dark and still and green at the edge of a glade in the promise of spring-turned-new-summer. This place she doesn’t know, has never seen, and still somehow Kim knows it is not where she seeks, not here. This is somewhere else, and although she looks up she cannot see sun nor moon nor stars—she doesn’t know where she is, and although she is the Seer of Brennin, a dreamer of the dream, at the moment she has never felt so blind.
From behind her, footsteps crackle in the underbrush, and Kim whirls. Light glints from the fair golden hair of the young man who stands before her, half-hidden by the trees—save for his eyes, which are a startling bright blue.
And oh, she knows him, somehow she knows him, Jennifer’s son, and Kim breathes,
“Darien.”
Blue eyes flash red and are answered by the sudden crimson blaze of the Baelrath on her hand, and she jerks her hand up before her face with a wordless, desperate cry as she stumbles backwards--
--and as she falls, Kim Ford wakes up.
She stands before massive shapes of stone that lie jumbled amid wide grasslands, listening to the keening wail of the wind that blows around her. The stone on her hand burns a deep red in the approaching dusk, power and invocation, call and warning both at once.
She has been here before, she has walked this place in her dreams more times now than she can count, and Kim is no stranger to the silent demand of the gathered boulders and the wind that threatens to tear the words from her aching throat.
But it is not time, not yet, for she cannot see the other place, the next one, the last – the place of summoning, the hidden site where another man lies, dead father and guardian spirit whose secret she will wrench free with blood-red fire and her own sorrow like stone.
“Where are you!” she screams, instead, frustrated and tired and broken-hearted even here within the dream that she walks—for the summer has been long, and the autumn longer yet, and Kim Ford has never been called patient. “Where?”
As her cry echoes over empty lands and from fallen rocks, the wind dies suddenly—and in the next instant, everything shifts.
She is in a forest, now, dark and still and green at the edge of a glade in the promise of spring-turned-new-summer. This place she doesn’t know, has never seen, and still somehow Kim knows it is not where she seeks, not here. This is somewhere else, and although she looks up she cannot see sun nor moon nor stars—she doesn’t know where she is, and although she is the Seer of Brennin, a dreamer of the dream, at the moment she has never felt so blind.
From behind her, footsteps crackle in the underbrush, and Kim whirls. Light glints from the fair golden hair of the young man who stands before her, half-hidden by the trees—save for his eyes, which are a startling bright blue.
And oh, she knows him, somehow she knows him, Jennifer’s son, and Kim breathes,
“Darien.”
Blue eyes flash red and are answered by the sudden crimson blaze of the Baelrath on her hand, and she jerks her hand up before her face with a wordless, desperate cry as she stumbles backwards--
--and as she falls, Kim Ford wakes up.
