-------sometime in the middle of the night-------
She had let the darkness take her with the fire warming her backside and crackling behind her. When Ultyr joined her she had no response, just to curl in tighter. A protection for herself unconsciously, a habit when she slept that would likely never disappear. She shifted in her sleep, face muscles tensing and untensing. Dreams broke her darkness, but these were not new dreams. These were nightmares she had lived once. Screams, fire, the scent of blood, tang of death in the air. The fear in her dreams had her spinal fur on end in the waking world. She knew these dreams, but they would never not disturb her sleep. They were dreams she had had since she had become a slave, since that night.
The snarls in her sleep, the bite of pain in her pelt. She dreamed of it all. Memories from a time gone. She'd only had a few nights without dreams, they just were made worse under duress. The stress, the thoughts of being thrown away again had brought her nightmares to bite tonight. She was good at trying to hide her hurts though. Even when they brought her these nightmares. The scent of Ultyr, so close to his father's. The bite into her throat of the blade that rendered her speechless, the bite of him, the pain that followed. The sound of screams from her nightmares sounding in real life. Her body was trembling, as her hear shot up. Eyes wide and sides heaving. Tears streaming down her face. Her form lifting from the fear before looking for the source of the screams.
Was it in her dreams? Or was it in reality? Shit.... the acrid tang of piss and the sight of dying embers greeting her. Ultyr laying there had her backing away, mistaken for Aryn. Her job! She had fucked up and let the fire die! Shit, shit, SHIT! He was going to beat her good this time! Had she pissed on Aryn? Fuck he would make her wish she was dead. Fear of the man in front of her on her face, in her eye, her dead eye mirroring it with a cloud over it. The fact that it was Ultyr not dawning on her yet. A panicked look for the fuel, only to come up empty and with no marble floors.
Confusion at first, then a closing of her eyes. A recognition of the fact this was indeed not the palace, and there had been no clinking of chains. Then sides still heaving she opened her eyes and turned looking for their companion. Ultyr likely having already started his moving, her still riled and small form moving. Disregarding her bag and forgoing anything else. Where was Ganymede? Why had he screamed?
When she did find him he looked just as riled. A recognition of the look on his face, but her own fear hadn't settled yet either. She moved slowly, her form waddling to be beside Ganymede's before she turned and with a sad eye placed her hip against his as she laid there out of his heave puddle and laid her head on his. Her only way of comforting was her own presence. They had stolen her words, her name, and her courage. Time she guessed Ultyr saw the damage they had done fully. She had done her best to wake before him up until now and keep him from seeing her when she would wake from a nightmare. His father was a barbarian, and while she did love him even he had a part to play in this. She had gotten good at self soothing though. She had to, if Aryn had ever seen that fear of him in her waking state he might of made it worse, had once. She did ensure if he wanted a way out, wanted to run, Ganymede wasn't pinned by her head, her tiny form was gentle in every way.
"Hear"
