{Mousie} Denying a dream- Moments in Time
Jun. 14th, 2009 10:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wayfarers_lodgeMousie stormed into the encampment, radiating fury so much that every bum around the fire stopped and looked at her, trembling coming more from a deep-seated, animal instinct, than the bitter cold.
"S'everything alright, Queenie?" Asked Burt Pants, one of the braver ones, who had left his fear in bottom of a goon bag years ago.
"Yeah, nuffin you done need to worry about, Burtie," she almost growled, "Now gimmee the hooch."
The bottle was handed over with no argument, no mention that Mousie never drank more than the barest of customary mouthfuls, and she slumped down before the barrell fire.
Just a little, she thought, Just a little to keep the cold at bay...
"Why do people never listen to me?" she wondered out loud, every eye still on her. "Why do they always do stoopit things an' then they espet me to clean up after'm? Don' they know that chasin' after things in the night is DANGEROUS?"
The others around the fire tutted and shook their heads in despair, passing around what was left of dinner. They, of course, had heeded her warnings, and when something went wrong, when someone went missing or started acting weirder than normal, when they started having odd dreams of music and unearthly ladies, they told her straight away.
Mousie closed her eyes, and the memory danced in front of her, so beautiful and crystalline, like Selene and Liesel before her. There was no aching hunger in her belly or weariness in her eyes, and she saw Firebrand and Genevieve dancing, smiling- it had been so long since Genevieve had smiled that smile.
She hissed in anger at the intrusion, for all it made her feel awake and refreshed (through some dream poison, no doubt), and shoved it away. Erina had been snide to her about her paranoia, and Genevieve seemed to have missed the point of her fear all together. It SHOULD be common sense- it was certainly part of the rules. Don't gamble for your soul. Don't steal things from dark-eyed strangers. Don't agree to work a day and a night for a woman in exchange for all the gold in the world. Don't go following mysterious music.
Still, she was scorned, spurned and ignored by her court brethren and the people she loved the most for trying to stop them from getting hurt, or worse, Taken back. Well fine. If they weren't worth anything, even after all she had done for them, she'd keep her warnings to herself.
"S'everything alright, Queenie?" Asked Burt Pants, one of the braver ones, who had left his fear in bottom of a goon bag years ago.
"Yeah, nuffin you done need to worry about, Burtie," she almost growled, "Now gimmee the hooch."
The bottle was handed over with no argument, no mention that Mousie never drank more than the barest of customary mouthfuls, and she slumped down before the barrell fire.
Just a little, she thought, Just a little to keep the cold at bay...
"Why do people never listen to me?" she wondered out loud, every eye still on her. "Why do they always do stoopit things an' then they espet me to clean up after'm? Don' they know that chasin' after things in the night is DANGEROUS?"
The others around the fire tutted and shook their heads in despair, passing around what was left of dinner. They, of course, had heeded her warnings, and when something went wrong, when someone went missing or started acting weirder than normal, when they started having odd dreams of music and unearthly ladies, they told her straight away.
Mousie closed her eyes, and the memory danced in front of her, so beautiful and crystalline, like Selene and Liesel before her. There was no aching hunger in her belly or weariness in her eyes, and she saw Firebrand and Genevieve dancing, smiling- it had been so long since Genevieve had smiled that smile.
She hissed in anger at the intrusion, for all it made her feel awake and refreshed (through some dream poison, no doubt), and shoved it away. Erina had been snide to her about her paranoia, and Genevieve seemed to have missed the point of her fear all together. It SHOULD be common sense- it was certainly part of the rules. Don't gamble for your soul. Don't steal things from dark-eyed strangers. Don't agree to work a day and a night for a woman in exchange for all the gold in the world. Don't go following mysterious music.
Still, she was scorned, spurned and ignored by her court brethren and the people she loved the most for trying to stop them from getting hurt, or worse, Taken back. Well fine. If they weren't worth anything, even after all she had done for them, she'd keep her warnings to herself.
