Nightmare [Lunasari]
Shadows slithered over the pale skin of her toes and crept upward, hiding her feet as they reached for her ankles. They were cold, but the cold wasn't unbearable. She watched, mesmerized, as they traveled the long lengths of her strong, toned legs and seeped between her thighs. She briefly anticipated the thrill of the taboo, but it didn't penetrate; instead, it merely covered her nakedness and moved on up, enveloping her hips and sinking into the slight dip of her navel.
Panic should have overtaken her, but she didn't struggle. Fear remained utterly at bay, replaced by simple acceptance and a twist of curiosity for what would happen when the shadows covered her up completely. They were chilly and smooth to the touch, though smoky and matte in appearance.
Up, up, up they crawled, curving over her belly and breasts, swallowing her collarbone and encasing her throat.
Lunasari? Luna? Where are you?
Artemaesia's voice. She'd never mistake it for anyone else. Luna opened her mouth to respond, and the shadows surged inside, choking her and cutting her words in pieces before they had a chance to form. She lifted her arms to try and pry the shadows away, but they couldn't be stopped. The shifting black mass sucked up the rest of Luna's body, hiding her eyes and seeping into her long blonde hair. The blackness took over her body, but she could somehow still see Artemaesia. The little mage was standing there, terrified and in tears.
Luna, why?! Why would you go and just leave me all alone? How could you think I don't still need you?
Something tall, black, and utterly sinister swept up behind Artie. She turned in slow motion, throwing an arm up in a feeble attempt to defend herself. A lightning strike of a blade sliced through the air. Artemaesia's small form fell to the floor at the shadowed Lunasari's feet. Blood mingled with Artie's golden robes and her long crimson hair. It dusted her arms and face with tiny spatters of blood, and Luna winced as she realized that some of it appeared to just be the ginger freckles that she'd often teased her friend over.
"I'm sorry," she said, though her voice sounded deep and strange. She reached for Artie to try and help her--
The dreadful rumbling roar of thunder overhead jolted Luna from her nightmare. In her panic, she kicked at her blankets and tried to rise. She succeeded only in standing for a moment before falling to her knees, legs locked together by the unforgiving fabric. Angry and irrational, Luna groped for the dagger beneath her pillow. Once she found the worn leather handle, she dragged it out and used it to cut herself free, nevermind the fact that the blankets weren't hers to destroy. She needed out of the room.
Her partner for the night, a rogue whose name she couldn't remember but whose shoulders she'd clung to for the better part of the previous evening, lay dead to the world, snoring and drooling on his pillow. Luna stomped out of the room, wrapping herself in one of the torn pieces of blanket from the floor. The inn had other guests, and they usually complained loudly when she wandered around naked.
Everyone but the lowly grunt who manned the desk overnight was asleep. Luna's feet slapped the cool stone of the stairs as she descended and made a beeline for one of the plush sofas in the common area. She curled up there, arms wrapped around her legs and chin resting on her knees. The man behind the desk in the next room didn't even stir. She wondered if he was sleeping. So much the better.
She didn't like it when anyone watched her cry.
The tears slid down her cheeks when she let them, and after swiping the first batch away with the backs of her hands, she didn't bother anymore.
Only Artie believes in that 'dreams have meaning' crap. If that's true, though... then why do I feel so guilty about something I've been contemplating for months?