Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Site Write Entry #19: Sleepless

Prompt: May 25, 2102 - Sleepless http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/Sleepless?s=t
. . . . . So many hours had passed since night fell that the campfire was down to smoldering coals, a sullen glow which nevertheless the shaman poked at regularly in the hopes that the faint glow would be enough of a beacon. With the White Lady just beginning to wax in the sky and the Blue Child still hiding behind her because of the confluence, there was little spare light in the sky. She hoped her glowing coals were enough.
. . . . . Tonight's choice had been one of the easier ones - high bluffs overlooking the south of Feralas, the hot springs near the top of the mountain far less populous (indeed, abandoned by this hour) than the easy-to-reach ones below. Given the challenge of many of her choices of campsite, this one was comparatively easy. By this time of night, even the chubby - oh, alright, so he was significantly less chubby since he'd started this mad chase - vindicator should've been able to scale the bluffs and find her.
. . . . . He was late.
. . . . . The Farseer sighed and tugged on one of her dreadlocks restlessly. If her Sight worked on those closest to her, she would have long ago tried to See what kept him, but the spirits were fickle and rarely allowed such glimpses. The last time it had occurred, she ended up taking her old friend Celuur on a spirit journey that could have killed him if she hadn't held the soul link herself. The spirits only gave her Sight for those dear to her if there was true need, and they usually forced the visions; no vision had come, so whatever was keeping her erstwhile delivery of dinner, it wasn't something she was being counted on to do anything about.
. . . . . So she poked at the sullen coals and waited, not quite bringing herself to admit that she was sitting up, sleepless, waiting for a male she couldn't scry because he had become dear to her heart. Not that she'd let him know that.

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