[OPEN] Dark dream world / all alone.

[minrathousian]

WHO: [OPEN] Atticus Vedici + Anyone!; [CLOSED] Petrana de Cedoux, Sina Dahlasanor
WHAT: After being attacked by his apprentice, Atticus is alone in the Gallows now.
WHEN: Spanning the middle of August, after this thread. (Petra's thread is set the same afternoon of the attack.)
WHERE: The Gallows dungeon; the library.
NOTES: None currently, will update as needed.

I.  [SINA]


The black sand, murky sea, and green sky of Sina's dream is familiar to Atticus now, though it is strange to reconcile the sight of the glowing spectre in the water with the young girl he'd seen in the dungeon.

This visit, he doesn't bother to shroud himself from her view; she knows who he is. He comes to stand just beyond the reach of the tarn-like surf.

He has no pleasantries for her, or sympathy:  "How much time," he begins, straight to the point, "do you believe you have left?"



II. [PETRANA DE CEDOUX]


It has been some hours since Benedict's ill-fated attempt at hexing his mentor, and the violent fall-out that occurred shortly thereafter--enough time for a Tranquil mage to see to the angry gash in Atticus' eyebrow rendered by Ser Coupe's knife. In a different cell now, Atticus stands with his back to the cell bars, fingers gently inspecting the proud flesh rising up around his sutures; a scar will be inevitable without magical intervention, and he has few expectations of receiving that here.

Decorously arranged on the meagre workstation that has been provided to him, his books and parchment are open, quill in an inkwell. It seems he has paused his work only to pace his cell, grimacing with discomfort both at the state of his injury, and the shackles that continue to rub his wrists raw.



III. THE LIBRARY


Research without the aid of an assistant is tedious business, but it isn't as though there is a great deal else at his disposal at the moment to occupy his time. (At least, not in the waking world.) If he is occasionally pensive or distracted as he works, the root cause could be anything: the disruption to what little routine he's been able to establish, now that Benedict is no longer tethered to him; some question he is toying with answering.

At some point he gets up to stretch his legs--a bit difficult, with the shackles on, but he tries.
 

Comments

[minrathousian]

It is reasonable to suggest that Atticus' every conscious choice throughout most of his adult life has involved courting disaster, in greater or smaller measures. He's in this deep--his passions invested, his desire to acquire a Fade shard so close that he can almost taste his triumph; it is not so difficult to fold Petrana into those ambitions, to secure in his vision for himself a place for her as well. A place for her to have quiet dreams, uninterrupted by a man with a flaming sword, or a child laying dead in the grass.

He could make their glade reality, given enough time, enough power.

He stands when she does, but doesn't follow her to the bars. Not immediately--he cuts his eyes to the corridor first, hastily ascertaining for himself that they are indeed alone, even though he can hear the door swing open at the other end of the dungeon. Not for long--

He reaches out to take her hand and draw her back from the bars, just long enough to cup the back of her head with one shackled hand, and kiss her, just once.

[minrathousian]

He can still taste her lips when good sense has her retreat from him, but he hears her words clearly, "The glade--"

"I'll come to you," he has time to promise her, his voice pitched low, his eyes terribly clear--

The guard comes into view. "Step back, Vedici," she instructs him, and he complies with raised hands, taking two slow steps back towards the wall. Only once his back is pressed against it does the guard unlock the cell to admit Petrana to the corridor.

Atticus watches her go; he almost succeeds in schooling his face into implacability. Almost.