At Rest: More Rest

This is entirely Woodsong’s fault. We were roleplaying, entirely too late, and I was inspired to write this. All of my characters at the moment have had a very interesting few days, and tonight seemed to be the culmination of their current story arcs. Please enjoy a second part to the wonderful little meme that Laenlis started: At Rest. :3

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North east of Bree, a young woman laid in her small bed, continuing to cry tears that no longer came. Her brown eyes were bloodshot and swollen. Sniffling and rubbing her face into the rough pillow cover just made her all the more miserable. She sat up, punching the pillow with all the strength she could muster, over and over again. Thud, thud, thud, thud. THUD. The final thud was her head slamming into the pillow. Miserably snuffling now, she sobbed silently and turned her face to the wall. Hopefully tomorrow she’d wake up from a normal dream and be normal.

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Further south, still in Bree-land, a much older woman drooled in her sleep. It was the languorous sleep of someone who had exhausted themselves fully. Shifting instinctively, she clung to the man lying next to her. His arm curled around her, causing a brief lapse from unconsciousness. She blindly tilted her chin up, whispering secret words and names no one else would know yet before drifting off to sleep again. She drooled on him.

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To the east, a few ridges over, a young man finally settled into bed; he barely beat the sun to its rising. He groaned happily at the feel of the soft bed and almost immediately drifted off to dream of blue eyes. On the floor rested a perfectly copied piece of literature, his bold and whimsical handwriting begging to jump off the page and into its intended recipient’s imagination.

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Not too far away, long hair wrapped itself around its owner’s face, causing her to wake with a jolt. Sweat dotted her forehead, another bad dream quickly playing through her memory. Laying back down and listening for the soft breathing of the small person next to her, she let that rhythmic breath lull her back to sleep. She missed home.

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Down the street, a very young Elf maiden laid in bed but did not rest. She walked in waking dreams with her beloved. They laughed and danced beneath mallorn trees before resting in a patch of flowers. They spoke of their meeting by the river, and of her namesake from that evening. The name he gave her, the one she now carried until they were to be wed. Slowly, they began to fall asleep together. In her small bunk, the Elf smiled.