Khemrys (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
homeless_pard) wrote2025-02-15 03:55 am
homeless_pard) wrote2025-02-15 03:55 am
Sleep
Who: Khemrys, Jason?
When: A few weeks after his incarceration.
What: The first dream.
Khemrys tucked her nose in Kirion's hair and cuddled Irias close as was her wont these days. Her children were safe and surrounded by the strongest people she knew, but she still needed the visceral reminder in order to even doze at all. She was not coping well. Her family was not whole. Her Jason was so far from safety it was laughable to think she could even describe how painful it was.
A pain she carried from waking to sleep today it seemed, harsh and sharp in her chest as she tended plants. Her greenhouse was a small, normal sanctuary, she didn't even notice that the planting beds stretched from what she now held to the gardens at the abbey before her flight. Dark trees twisted past that, dripping with moss and dampness in this season, an echoing, boulder strewn wilderness beyond. A full run of an hour until they could even find the nearest village from there.
For a long time that small place had been her safety and sanctuary, a place even a rootless child like her could be treasured by soft, elderly hands and rheumy eyes full of kindness. Was it any wonder that it spelled such now when she felt so bereft?
Granted, it wasn't without it's heartaches.
"What did you expect my little flower?" the faded memory of Dame Rimia sighed, sitting on her bench to feel the few rays of sunlight that still fell despite the nearby trees. "Such a life, starting as yours did, will ever face hardships."
She winced, a weed tearing harshly under her probing fingers, "My pains are mine to bear. The children and my lord husband shouldst not suffer for what others thought of me here..."
"Aye, that is why you left and rerooted was it not?" Rimia chuckled softly, knobbed and gnarled hands resting as comfortably as they might upon the top of her walking cane.
She settled on her heels, considering that, "No dame. I left because I was hunted and I found safety elsewhere. Safety and a future, and that I...I need and deserve."
The memory smiled, wrinkles carved deep and unending through the once sun-kissed face of the woman who had been her mentor and surrogate mother when her own gave in to madness, "now there is a truth. Such a little bloom you've become my dear," she chuckled softly. "Do you know how close Death and Dreams are in this world my dear one?"
Khemrys blinked, not understanding the change of subject? "In a medical sense mayhap? Sleep and a coma are near identical betimes, and from there..."
Rimia grinned, "a bright little blossom indeed. It was wonderful to see you again, I hope you find what you need here among your plants."
Khem froze, considering, what? What even? She looked toward the bench wanting answers but there was no shade seated there now, no memory, or wishful thinking of words she'd not heard in their entire before...
...just her and her greenhouse beds becoming a proper garden of herbs only seen in her own world.
Ah, a dream. She dusted her hands off and sighed, wondering now. "Find what I need?" Wouldst there be some nugget of truth posing as a tuber here she could then tell the lawyers mayhap? Dreams were but wandering one's own mind after all, so why not search for what might be useful?
Why not indeed?
When: A few weeks after his incarceration.
What: The first dream.
Khemrys tucked her nose in Kirion's hair and cuddled Irias close as was her wont these days. Her children were safe and surrounded by the strongest people she knew, but she still needed the visceral reminder in order to even doze at all. She was not coping well. Her family was not whole. Her Jason was so far from safety it was laughable to think she could even describe how painful it was.
A pain she carried from waking to sleep today it seemed, harsh and sharp in her chest as she tended plants. Her greenhouse was a small, normal sanctuary, she didn't even notice that the planting beds stretched from what she now held to the gardens at the abbey before her flight. Dark trees twisted past that, dripping with moss and dampness in this season, an echoing, boulder strewn wilderness beyond. A full run of an hour until they could even find the nearest village from there.
For a long time that small place had been her safety and sanctuary, a place even a rootless child like her could be treasured by soft, elderly hands and rheumy eyes full of kindness. Was it any wonder that it spelled such now when she felt so bereft?
Granted, it wasn't without it's heartaches.
"What did you expect my little flower?" the faded memory of Dame Rimia sighed, sitting on her bench to feel the few rays of sunlight that still fell despite the nearby trees. "Such a life, starting as yours did, will ever face hardships."
She winced, a weed tearing harshly under her probing fingers, "My pains are mine to bear. The children and my lord husband shouldst not suffer for what others thought of me here..."
"Aye, that is why you left and rerooted was it not?" Rimia chuckled softly, knobbed and gnarled hands resting as comfortably as they might upon the top of her walking cane.
She settled on her heels, considering that, "No dame. I left because I was hunted and I found safety elsewhere. Safety and a future, and that I...I need and deserve."
The memory smiled, wrinkles carved deep and unending through the once sun-kissed face of the woman who had been her mentor and surrogate mother when her own gave in to madness, "now there is a truth. Such a little bloom you've become my dear," she chuckled softly. "Do you know how close Death and Dreams are in this world my dear one?"
Khemrys blinked, not understanding the change of subject? "In a medical sense mayhap? Sleep and a coma are near identical betimes, and from there..."
Rimia grinned, "a bright little blossom indeed. It was wonderful to see you again, I hope you find what you need here among your plants."
Khem froze, considering, what? What even? She looked toward the bench wanting answers but there was no shade seated there now, no memory, or wishful thinking of words she'd not heard in their entire before...
...just her and her greenhouse beds becoming a proper garden of herbs only seen in her own world.
Ah, a dream. She dusted her hands off and sighed, wondering now. "Find what I need?" Wouldst there be some nugget of truth posing as a tuber here she could then tell the lawyers mayhap? Dreams were but wandering one's own mind after all, so why not search for what might be useful?
Why not indeed?