After Dark.

Postby Wendy » Mon Nov 12, 2007 10:11 pm

To Cambree, Cinnabar is safety. She trusts him.

His firm conviction solidifies those feelings and, for a fleeting moment, her sweet, native smile appears.

There must a blending of the old with the new happening here. Cambree recognized this when her young cousin relayed her dream to its end. There is a tug at her heart when she glances at Cinnabar to whom, for his grayest hours, she has been a light. Her gaze speaks an eternal message, known to every tribe, before the quilt is dropped from her shoulders, caught at the elbows, and she views her cousin. She can make sense of this. She can. She’ll try to do so without resorting to a language that her beloved cannot understand.

“A dream is a symbol of truths,â€
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Postby Cinnabar » Tue Nov 13, 2007 11:50 am

The whole encounter is confusing, unsettling, bewildering. This is a young man who knows dreams, but knows only a very specific, very literal kind of dream; of dreams that can be read, can be analysed and interpreted, he knows little. So Cambree's reading of Lavender's dream is... something unfamiliar.

Grey eyes upon Cambree as she speaks and interprets, concerned and attentive. He settles somewhat, calms a little as the interpretation is made, as the dream becomes less a prediction of what will be, instead turning into an echo of what was. Still painful, still tragic, and yet... done. Unchangeable, and thus something that it is futile to worry about. Grieve over, perhaps, but not fight against. This doesn't stop some reflection of her pain from showing in his own features, sympathy and distress for Cambree's own suffering; a searching glance for Lavender, then, before he's moving from the bed, crossing to kneel beside his lady's chair and reach for her hand. Simple comfort offered in this contact, as if he might somehow draw out her pain with a touch.

"Then it tells you nothing, but only torments you anew with what you already know." His gaze moves between Cambree and Lavender, some effort at reassurance, at consolation. "It's a cruel thing, but one that is done with now."
Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis.
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Postby Raveness » Tue Nov 13, 2007 2:33 pm

Lavender gazes silently from outside the room for a moment. When Cambree begins to cry, she shuffles her feet and massages the left side of her temple. Her eyes close and she sighs for a moment, just breathing slowly. Why did she have to come awaken them? She curses herself internally for doing so. Mistakes, it seems she always makes them.

"I am sorry." She states, this time to the pair inside the room and her eyes dance from Cambree's form in the chair to Cinnabar's at her side. Sorry for interrupting, sorry for waking them, sorry for bothering them with her strange nightmare, sorry for even mentioning.

Normally, the woman would seek and give comfort at her cousin's side, but there is already one there to hold her hand and soothe her fears. Cambree may be Cinnabar's rock and he in turn her own, but there is no room for Lavender inside. With a heavy heart and trepidation, Lavender quietly moves away from the two and makes her way back to her bedroom. Once inside her room, Lavender moves her desk chair up under the latch, to keep anyone from opening it and then tucks her body back under the covers. Not to sleep, but to ponder.. the dream.
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Postby Wendy » Thu Nov 15, 2007 1:43 am

While the two of them are sometimes fueled by the fun of being silly, Cinnabar is still an embracing, enveloping presence whenever he is at Cambree's side. His fierce protection is a creative force. At times, he is her point of wisdom, of understanding, which is better than a rock could hope to be.

Cambree associates Cinn's actions as those of the archangels described in the book she took home from the library. In a world saturated with striving and grasping, his sweet and slow ceremony is a balm. Now his warm feel is given to her palm and fingers, disconnecting the overwhelming frenzy of her memories. Her hand strengthens while he holds it.

Cambree's unbound fingers press at her closed eyes a few times while she nods. She is receptive and able to comprehend what meaning his actions are rooted in. Lavender's ache remains here, even though the girl retreats. It is written in the eyes of her cousin as they are revealed to Cinnabar. Breath breaks the seal of her lips as dark, damp lashes umbrella the solemn stare.

She nods again, unable to use her nose to breathe, for all that it is filled, drawing instead through her mouth. Her system is to work internally, in order to calm down, but here is this man offering a way of solace in the simple gesture of his hand. It is pulled to her lips for a brief touch of appreciation for his kindness.

The room is no longer disturbingly dark. There is a dance of bobbing light filling this space. It is stretched across the walls and is reaching, if it might, to touch the ceiling. The candle flames allow Cambree to see the sincerity in Cinnabar's look, even if the tone of his words already carried it. Not another breath goes by without a "Thank you, Cinn." that is as heartfelt. The suspense of her shoulders begins to ease, causing a slight, forward shift of the woman's upper body.
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