Haunted (February 3010) - [Ceolmund]
Nov 10, 2017 14:40:34 GMT -5
Post by Runa on Nov 10, 2017 14:40:34 GMT -5
“The blood and flames. Your blood.”
Runa felt the way he rubbed his hand across her skin, and watched as he lifted it to examine his palm. He was checking her, making certain she was not bleeding. The woman furrowed her brow in helplessness, and sadness. “Ceol,” she hummed to him. “I’m all right. It…it was just a dream,” she said again, voice low and measured. His nightmare—it had been about her?
He assured her he did not want tea, and instead seemed to only want to listen to her heartbeat. His arms and hands were about her as he pressed himself in close, and their warmth felt feverish against her. She stroked his hair with gentle fingers, feeling the man’s desperation in the dampness of his brow. Finally, Ceolmund observed that her heart was beating, and she squeezed him tighter. “It is,” she murmured to him.
“I'm sorry, Runa. I should not have awakened you. You need to rest. The baby needs you to rest.”
“Ceol, please,” she chided gently, blue eyes intent on his as he pulled away and looked at her. “It’s all right.” She moved to reach for his cheeks again, but he was already looking around, surveying the fallen bedsheets and moving to gather them back up. Runa could read that his motions were heavy with guilt, the frown and pain upon his face more telling than any words he could have uttered. She was about to say something else to him, to ask him to sit a moment, to assure him that he had done nothing wrong, but he was already moving for the sitting room.
“I'll get the fire. I'll take care of you.”
“Ceol,” she started, but he was already gone. The woman frowned, watching the emptiness of the door and listening to the sound of Ceolmund tending the fire. For a moment, she considered crawling out of the bed to find him, but he was so upset already, and she imagined that her husband would not take her being out of bed overly well at the moment so she thought better of it. Instead she sat, waiting and quiet, mind sifting through words she wanted to say.
When he came back, his face was no more lifted; if anything, it appeared he had thought himself deeper into the trenches. “Ceol,” she murmured. She rocked forward, reaching for him, taking his hand and drawing him back to the edge of the bed. She had seen his nightmares before, she had seen the nightmares of those he served with as brothers. This one had been worse for him; she could not recall seeing a reaction from him quite like this. Was he embarrassed? Surely he knew her well enough to know she would never think him weak. And yet, he was not looking at her.
“I can’t imagine what you’ve seen,” she offered gently, remorsefully. “But know that I never want to sleep soundly if you are in pain, Ceol.” She brushed his cheek, and kissed his lips in a light, feathery brush. “Lie with me?” She asked, sinking onto the bed, back upon the cushions and lifting her arm to invite him near. “Rest right here. If…if the vision returns, you will have to but open your eyes, and you’ll hear my heartbeat.”
Runa felt the way he rubbed his hand across her skin, and watched as he lifted it to examine his palm. He was checking her, making certain she was not bleeding. The woman furrowed her brow in helplessness, and sadness. “Ceol,” she hummed to him. “I’m all right. It…it was just a dream,” she said again, voice low and measured. His nightmare—it had been about her?
He assured her he did not want tea, and instead seemed to only want to listen to her heartbeat. His arms and hands were about her as he pressed himself in close, and their warmth felt feverish against her. She stroked his hair with gentle fingers, feeling the man’s desperation in the dampness of his brow. Finally, Ceolmund observed that her heart was beating, and she squeezed him tighter. “It is,” she murmured to him.
“I'm sorry, Runa. I should not have awakened you. You need to rest. The baby needs you to rest.”
“Ceol, please,” she chided gently, blue eyes intent on his as he pulled away and looked at her. “It’s all right.” She moved to reach for his cheeks again, but he was already looking around, surveying the fallen bedsheets and moving to gather them back up. Runa could read that his motions were heavy with guilt, the frown and pain upon his face more telling than any words he could have uttered. She was about to say something else to him, to ask him to sit a moment, to assure him that he had done nothing wrong, but he was already moving for the sitting room.
“I'll get the fire. I'll take care of you.”
“Ceol,” she started, but he was already gone. The woman frowned, watching the emptiness of the door and listening to the sound of Ceolmund tending the fire. For a moment, she considered crawling out of the bed to find him, but he was so upset already, and she imagined that her husband would not take her being out of bed overly well at the moment so she thought better of it. Instead she sat, waiting and quiet, mind sifting through words she wanted to say.
When he came back, his face was no more lifted; if anything, it appeared he had thought himself deeper into the trenches. “Ceol,” she murmured. She rocked forward, reaching for him, taking his hand and drawing him back to the edge of the bed. She had seen his nightmares before, she had seen the nightmares of those he served with as brothers. This one had been worse for him; she could not recall seeing a reaction from him quite like this. Was he embarrassed? Surely he knew her well enough to know she would never think him weak. And yet, he was not looking at her.
“I can’t imagine what you’ve seen,” she offered gently, remorsefully. “But know that I never want to sleep soundly if you are in pain, Ceol.” She brushed his cheek, and kissed his lips in a light, feathery brush. “Lie with me?” She asked, sinking onto the bed, back upon the cushions and lifting her arm to invite him near. “Rest right here. If…if the vision returns, you will have to but open your eyes, and you’ll hear my heartbeat.”