Closed Eyes - 12

What seemed like hours later, Gheai had stitched together a dress for Cece. It was a short dress compared to what the other women were wearing, but to Cece it was the perfect length of just at the tops of her knees. The woman had made two separate pieces- the straight-lined skirt, then the top with a wide neckline that showed the tops of her shoulders- which she sewed together. The fabric was stiff, but Gheai had made it loose enough for Cece to pull on and off without the use of zippers or buttons. "We don't have time to sit and make buttons, and I certainly don't have time to sew them on!" Gheai had said as she started sewing the pieces of the dress together. 

After Cece had put on the dress, Gheai started making the slippers out of the few scraps of fabric left over from the dress. She had decided that the bright green color wasn't nearly as bad when on the dress, though with her silvery hair and red skin, she felt as if she were a Christmas tree with eagle ornaments. 

Finally fitted with slippers- a process that only took a few moments, though was beyond Cece's understanding- Cece wriggled her toes and was surprised at just how comfortable they were. They seemed durable, though she felt that tramping through the camp would dirty the fabric almost instantly. And the fabric will probably rip easily, too. 

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, Cece smiled at Gheai. She wasn't sure why she was acting as if she would be wearing the dress and slippers for a long time. As soon as she woke up, the memory of the soft slippers and strange dress would disappear quickly. Then maybe when I sleep again I'll be able to have a normal dream. 

As if Gheai had signaled to Loyie that they were finished, the small woman came bustling through the door, her expression blank but her fists clenched. The sun was already starting to fade, surprising Cece at how long it must have taken for the dress to be sewn and the shoes made. 

"Thank you, Gheai," Loyie said quietly before reaching into her sleeve and pulling out a small coin. "That will do for now." Loyie ignored the unhappy expression from Gheai, as if the payment was much too small for the amount of work the woman had put in. 

"Here is your dress back, Loyie," Cece said, holding out the neatly folded dress for the small woman to take. "I would have washed it, but your ways of cleaning are much different than mine." 

Loyie frowned, looking puzzled at the dress for a long moment. "You may use it for scrap fabric, Gheai. I do not need it." 

"But Watcher, that dress is your-" 

"It does not matter what it was, Gheai. All that matters is that you need fabric, and so I am giving you some. Dresses are of little importance with the times at hand. Do not worry." 

Gheai nodded and took the dress from Cece's hands. The woman stroked the fabric as if it were something of great importance, rather than just a simple dress. Cece wasn't sure what importance it held, but got the feeling that she should not ask. 

"Child," Loyie said, directing her attention back to Cece, "come with me. It is time that you spoke with Prince Bramaad and King Xvenaad." Her tone was iron, as if she were already expecting a fight to occur. 

Cece nearly started laughing. She supposed that if there were a prince in her dreams, there would most certainly be a king, though she had hoped for once her mind would make an exception. 

Without pause, Loyie turned and headed out the door. Cece nearly jumped to catch up with her, though being taller than the smaller woman gave her some advantage. 

"Why do they want to speak with me?" Cece asked once she had caught up with Loyie moments later.

With the light growing dimmer, Cece couldn't tell, but it looked as if Loyie had rolled her eyes. "Men, even men with power, are not always willing to see what is right in front of their faces until it bites them on the nose." 

When Cece tried to press further, the little woman did not reply. She even ignored the bows and signs of respect from the men and women they passed, simply weaving past them as they traveled more toward the center of the camp. 

Finally she stopped in front of a seemingly simple hut. It was a little more put together than most of the other huts, but even the size was not much larger than all the others. Cece supposed that they would try and keep the enemy guessing as to where the leader sleeps, but she couldn't imagine people getting through all the traps, then to the hut before someone caught them. Why am I even thinking about this? 

Instead of just entering as Loyie had done at the previous hut, she knocked on the door and said loudly enough for someone inside to hear, "It is the Watcher, come with the girl." 

Instantly the door sprang open with Bramaad's chiseled face greeting them with a grim expression. "Come," he barked, opening the door wide enough for the two to pass by. 

Inside the hut held more furniture than Loyie's, with two tables, an actual bed in the corner rather than just a bunch of blankets, shelves, a cooking stove, and another small desk right next to the door. The floor had several carpets overlapping one another to make a much nicer floor than even the mud-packed floor of Loyie's hut. There were people scattered about the place, making it feel extremely cramped. 

It did not take long for Cece's eyes to settle on a muscular man with tanned skin and a chiseled face, much like Prince Bramaad's, but his face held a neatly groomed beard and connecting moustache that only framed his mouth. His eyes were hard, though Cece suspected it was from whatever he was going through, for he had laugh wrinkles around his eyes. Right then, however, Cece couldn't imagine him laughing for anything. So this must be the King Xvenaad. At least my mind let him seem more approachable than his son.

 

The king did not look up as his son led the two up to the table he was crouched over, reading a piece of paper. The king was wearing a simple shirt and pants, but over his heart embroidered in the same green as was on all the men's armor, was the eagle in the center of a full sun. Although he was not wearing a crown, his mere presence made Cece shift and swallow.

 

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Closed Eyes - 11

Cece wouldn't have thought anything about what Loyie had said except for Gheai had finally dropped the pair of pants in her hands and gaped at Loyie as if she had said the most outrageous thing. 

"But, Watcher, I don't think that'd be very proper, even if she did come under suspicious terms." Once again Gheai's hazel eyes flicked toward Cece, though this time her gaze held more concern than disapproval. 

Loyie smiled slightly. It was strange to see such a small, child-like woman hold such power in her voice and have her make anyone stammer and obey as if she truly were a Queen commanding her servants. 

Cece shook her head. This dream keeps getting stranger and stranger by the moment! 

"Do not worry, Gheai. The dress she is wearing now is no more proper than the one you are going to make her. At least give her a proper neckline so the men will not stare at her as if she were prey to a panther. I'm afraid she is a little more full in that area than myself," Loyie said wryly, looking at Cece out of the corner of her eye. 

Gheai slowly stooped down and picked up the pants she was working on and absent-mindedly brushed them off. "I, well, I suppose I can make it shorter, but I'll have to see what I can spare for her before we decide how short it'll have to be." 

Loyie only nodded and turned toward the door. "I'll leave Cece with you, then, until her dress is made. If you could spare enough to at least make her slippers as well, I'll make sure to compensate you for them." 

Without waiting for a reply, the small woman left the hut, leaving Cece shifting on the stool in sudden nervousness. Gheai- even pronouncing the name in her mind proved awkward- certainly didn't seem to like the fact that she was even there, let alone having to make a dress and slippers for her right away. However, Cece knew she'd be glad for something to fit better, even if it meant apparently looking strange by having a shorter dress. Yes, it was common to find a woman in a knee-length dress back in the waking world, but not every woman enjoyed actually wearing them like Cece did. How did Loyie know that I liked wearing shorter dresses? Immediately she dismissed the question. It was her dream, after all, so why wouldn't her mind tell one of the characters what she liked wearing?  

However, remembering back to the other women she had seen, they all wore long dresses that touched their toes. Loyie's dress was too short for Cece, so had not reached her toes, but it was still longer than most dresses women wore nowadays. I feel as if this dream is in the medieval period! Weapons and women in long dresses… sheesh! She wished Patrick were there. His presence would at least keep her from feeling so uncomfortable. She still couldn't understand why Patrick didn't just show up in this dream, considering the amount of times she tried to think him into it, but finally dismissed the thought. Obviously her subconscious was not cooperating.

"Well," Gheai said suddenly, planting a fist on her hips, "I guess what the Watcher wants, the Watcher gets." 

The woman turned toward the table and grabbed two lengths of cloth before turning back to Cece. The two were eye-jarring. The first was a length of cloth with swirls of orange, green, and a salmon color interwoven together in the strangest pattern Cece had ever seen that vaguely reminded her of tye-dye. The second cloth was a painfully bright green color with small eagles stitched in red all down the length of it. 

"I was going to make these into door coverings for some of the unlucky ones without doors, but they will just have to wait until we can get more fabric in," Gheai said, holding them out so Cece could see them more closely. 

Trying to keep the wince from her face, Cece quickly chose the cloth with the red eagles stitched into the fabric, deciding that it was the least offensive of the two choices. She also remembered the signets on the men's armor of the eagle flying in the sun. Cece supposed it had to do with someone's family crest. Probably Prince Bramaad's. Maybe if I wear his eagles he won't look at me as if I am such a threat. 

Gheai tossed the other length of cloth on the table and motioned for Cece to stand. "I barely have enough fabric to make patches for people and now I have to waste a whole one on a stranger we don't even know if we can trust," Gheai mumbled to herself, as if not realizing that Cece could clearly hear her. Or just not caring. Sheesh, my mind comes up with a lot of cruel people! 

"Gheai," Cece said, fumbling over the woman's name, "I really appreciate you doing this. I know it's not easy to waste something like this on me, but it means a lot. I don't like being here any more than you and your camp probably does." 

Gheai's eyebrow rose and her tone suddenly became conversational. "So, Cece," this time it was Gheai's turn to fumble over the pronunciation of her name, "did you really wake up in Sa'dei'Feyier?" 

Cece stared at the tall woman blankly. "Sa'dei-what?" 

Gheai frowned. "Sa'dei'Feyier. The Cursed One's Sea. Everyone in the land knows the name. Even the hermits in Dessert Josic." 

Cece only blinked in reply. She had no idea what any of it meant other than what Loyie had barely mentioned to her before. She felt so clueless in her own dream, though she supposed with such a strange dream that decided to continue itself, she shouldn't expect much less. It was just becoming far more complicated than she would ever want from a dream. 

Sighing in exasperation, Gheai pulled out a long leather cord with small notches out of it and started wrapping it around Cece, as if measuring her for the dress. "I don't like it when people lie to me, but maybe you really don't know…" 

"Gheai, I am not lying. I do not know what is going on. All I know is I woke up with my legs in a supposedly cursed sea and red as a lobster. And naked." She felt her cheeks flush at that, finally feeling some form of shame for walking boldly around without clothes on. Even if this is a dream, I can't believe I actually did that! 

Gheai threw her head back and laughed, finally showing some friendliness toward Cece. "I heard some of the men saying they saw Prince Bramaad sneaking around with a naked woman, but I didn't think they were actually telling the truth. Men bored of their surroundings tend to make up stories to spice things up a bit." 

Cece's cheeks reddened even more and shifted her feet uncomfortably. "I wish it weren't true." 

Gheai patted her shoulder and turned to the table and picked up something Cece could not quite see. "Do not worry, Cece. I will get this dress made, and although it'll be too short, at least you will have some of your dignity!"

 

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A Horrible Dream (Post Thirteen)

He was half way through standing up, his knees shaking so bad that gaining his feet was near impossible, when suddenly the door slammed shut behind him.  It sent him sprawling again, scrambling for the stairs as fast as he could.  He could swear that there were heavy, dragging footsteps following him, and the sound of nails scraping against the painted walls.  He would have looked back if fear wasn't driving him forward.

It took seconds for him to reach the top step, though it felt more like hours.  However, he stopped cold in his tracks as soon as he looked down the flight.  The shadows were thick and heavy, swirling like the smoke from dry ice.  They seemed to coalesce into a form, slowly fading in and out from existence at the bottom of the stairs.  At times it looked like a small girl, her head shrouded in a dark hood.  Then it would shift again, all semblance of humanity gone, and a grotesque hulk would be there instead.  Both girl and beast seemed to be swaying; the haunting lullaby of a thousand voices that was floating through the air seemed to be keeping them captivated.

He stayed there at the top of the stairs on his hands and knees, not wanting to go further but not able to tear his eyes away from the sight below him.  He realized that he was shivering, his body shuddering uncontrollably from fear.  His hot breath puffed white in front of his face, the air suddenly very cold.  It felt as if some kind of pressure was building again, and soon he could sense someone or something behind him, waiting impatiently.  He swallowed hard but was unable to rip his gaze from the mesmerizing shadows below him.

Suddenly there was a crack.  He couldn't tell if it was real or all in his head, but the pressure released all in one beat of a heart.  In that moment the smoke stopped swaying and shifting, the beast taking the place of the girl, and a grotesque face of the darkest black snapped up to look at him.  Deep into him.  Its purple eyes, nothing more than specks in its skull, bored into him and tore at his soul.  In the next heartbeat it was grinning at him.  Something screamed from the hallway behind him and a hard shove sent him tumbling down the stairs, right into the misty arms of the beast.

The roar of the moment was deafening, his ears left ringing and his eyes blinded as his head hit something very, very hard.  It took him a second to regain his senses.  He had passed through the thing.  A look up the stairs revealed nothing but the swirling, inky shadows that had been there before, but no beast.  No purple eyes.  His stomach still curdled from the sight.  He just wanted to close his eyes and forget it was all happening.  Better yet, he just wanted to wake up because this all had to be a dream.  Nothing but a horrible, horrible dream.

The blare of a car horn brought him out of his stupor.  It came again and again, sounding as urgent as a horn could.  His friends were trying to get his attention, or just trying to get him to hurry up.  Something must have happened.  Without opening his eyes, he took a deep breath and rushed to the door, fumbling once on the small welcome rug just inside it.  He flung the door wide and opened his eyes.

A Horrible Dream (Post Twelve)

He could see her through the open door, seated in a straight-backed chair and looking out the window with her back to him.  A glass vase sat on a wooden end-table next to her, spring flowers draping in stark contrast to the hysterical sense of panic growing in his chest.  Several picture frames lined the walls, all depicting family and memories from years past.  The tiny twin bed sat sullenly in the corner, its pink sheets grey in the gloom.

Sam didn't move except for her head, which swayed lethargically from side to side as if she was listening to a lullaby.  The rain must have cleared for the moon bathed her, its silvery light strange compared to the deep shadows that enveloped the rest of the room.  Shadows that seemed to move and slither in the corners of his vision.  Always just out of focus.

Taking a tentative step into the room, he swallowed hard in an attempt to wet his dry throat.  More sweat was beginning to trickle down his brow and it caused his skin to crawl.  The air was cool and clammy.  He took one step towards the chair and another after that, his feet feeling leaden.  He nearly leapt out of his skin when the old wood floor creaked beneath his weight.  Suddenly he noticed a faint noise coming from in front of him.  It was Sam.  She was humming.  Her voice was soft, almost inaudible.  The tune carried a dark and eerie tone and rose and fell with her head.  Every once in a while she chuckled to herself, but then always fell back into her humming as if nothing had happened.

"Sam?"  She didn't respond.  Her head just continued to bob, ever so slightly, ever so slowly.  His neck prickled as he heard a whisper from behind him in the dark.  Turning, he saw nothing but the inky blackness of the hallway beyond the room.

"Wh-Who's there?"  His voice cracked as he spoke; the fear taking root in him was now impossible to keep down.  He didn't care.

Another whisper flitted to his ears from just behind him, the words impossible to make out.  He tried to catch the shadows but their movement always stayed just out of his focus.  The next whisper was so close behind him that the hackles on the back of his neck rose.  "We play."  The words felt like ink running down his skin.  Fear told him not to turn around.

A slow and sullen scraping sound grew from the walls, soft as it was menacing, causing him to turn away from the door.  He noticed that the daisy wallpaper had began to peel, cracks ebbing their way through brown stains that seemed to come from nowhere.  More whispers found him from all corners of the room.  Some made no sense; others repeated things that he didn't want to hear.  They described his death and the pain that they could make him feel.  They chided him and cooed to him, whispering sweet and oily nothings into his ear.  It made him cringe and shudder, feeling fowled to his core.

A sudden thumping from behind caused him to swiftly turn around.  The blackness was growing, drinking in what little light was left from the moon.  It was too dark to see clearly, but he was certain that something moved just outside the door, slithering towards the stairs.  The whispering grew more insistent. Something cold brushed against his leg and he knew that he had to get out.

He turned sharply back towards the window, every fiber of his being screaming for him to run.  "SAM!" She was gone.  A cloud must have drifted in front of the moon for the light was suddenly no more.  The flowers were dead and rotting in a cracked, dirty vase.  All of the faces in the pictures were now scratched out or burned.  Through the window he could see the old oak in front of the house.  Something in the branches was watching him; two purple orbs nestled inside of a much larger and darker shadow than anything else surrounding it.  He sat transfixed, unable to move, until suddenly the orbs were gone.  It was as if a switch had been thrown and he ran from the room, tripping in his haste.

He skidded into the hallway face-first, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth from where he bit his lip.  The sound of heavy objects being slid across the floor emanated from the other bedrooms, the closed doors chattering on their hinges.  Many soft voices carried the haunting tune Sam had been humming through the house now.  He scrambled on his hands and knees for the stairs, unsure as to whether or not he really wanted to be outside or inside the house.  Regardless, he still had to find Sam.

Closed Eyes - 10

It was not long before Cece's sunburn felt as if it were just a distant memory. The salve, whatever it was, helped her burn much more than she had ever seen any aloe vera work. Despite the intense burning in the beginning, it seemed to take away twice the pain.

Loyie was busily unwrapping her bundles, not paying any mind to Cece's gasps of pain, then sighs of relief from the salve. Cece could clearly tell that she had only been asleep for a few hours, for there was more light entering into the little hut than she remembered.

Once finished, Cece stood from the strange rug Loyie made her stand on once again, and set the small jar down on the floor. She tried straightening the dress, once again uncomfortable with how strange the fit was. She tried tugging the top of the dress up for more coverage, but then it shifted off her hips, causing it to then bubble out and make Cece feel even more ridiculous.

Sighing in frustration, Cece tugged the dress back down, trying not to wince at the amount of cleavage she was showing. Patrick would certainly be laughing at me right now and also be trying to find a way to cover me at the same time!

Finally, Loyie seemed to notice Cece again. She was holding a long stem of a flower, the head nearly flat, but every petal a different color. Cece had never seen anything like it before. My imagination really is very interesting in this dream…

Loyie eyed Cece critically before allowing a small smile to appear on her thin lips. Now that there was more light in the hut, Cece felt that Loyie's hair was nearly too bright to look at. It still had the illusion of glowing like the sun.

"I think we should visit Gheai so she can fit you with a better dress. She can make one very quickly, but I'm afraid we don't have much material left. Trading has not been easy, as of late."

Cece shook her head. The thought of having to trade for anything, rather than just driving to the nearest store and trading money for things, made Cece wonder at the detail she had come up with in this dream. It was more in depth than she thought she was capable of.

"I would be happy for anything that fits better than this dress, at this point!" Cece didn't mean to sound ungrateful- after all, she had come to the little hut completely naked- but she would still be glad to have something that fit a little better.

However, Loyie seemed to not notice Cece's clipped tone as she set the strange flower carefully on its proper shelf. She whispered a few words and patted the flower's stem as if the flower were a small child Loyie was trying to reassure.

"I would direct you to the hut yourself, but I'm sure the prince has already spread the fact that there is a stranger in their midst, and one that came from the cursed sea, at that." Loyie spoke levelly, as if it made no difference if the whole camp hated Cece or not. "But I will assure Gheai, at the very least, that you are of no threat that we can forsee for now."

"For now?"

Loyie nodded absently. She looked as if she were a thousand miles away at that moment. Her eyes then suddenly focused, growing wider before relaxing again. It all happened so quickly that Cece doubted she ever really saw a different expression in the first place. "We cannot always tell what someone is going to do, nor do we as people know what paths we will choose even a few moments from now. But that is for another time. For now, we will visit Gheai."

Cece felt a shiver run down her spine. This dream certainly isn't making me feel very comfortable. What in the world is my mind trying to tell me?

Cece followed Loyie out of the hut. The small woman moved with the grace of someone used to walking in the woods. Cece, still with her bare feet, felt every twig and crunch of leaves beneath her. She felt as if she were waking the dead compared to Loyie's quiet, delicate steps.

 

Finally they made their way back to the main part of the camp with their hastily made mud huts. There were more people milling about now, more men with a multitude of weapons Cece couldn't even begin to put names to. They each wore dark leather armor with green insignias on their right arms of a sun with an eagle in flight at the very center of that sun. Cece had no idea what it meant, but was becoming more and more impressed with the creativeness of her dream.

 

There were also some children, Cece noticed, along with women holding baskets filled with clothing or shriveled vegetables, never paying any mind to the men with weapons in their hands. Even the children never glanced twice at the large shining blades that looked too heavy for a man to hold with one hand. Cece tried hard not to let her jaw drop at the strange sight. 

Slowly the men started noticing Loyie, and each paused to place their left hand on the signet on their armor and bowed their heads in what seemed like deep respect. She smiled and nodded at each in turn, sometimes murmuring a "May the Eagle fly with you in battle", which seemed like words of encouragement. Each man returned the saying with a simple, "Thank you, Watcher" before straightening and watching her pass. They treated Loyie as if she were the most respected Lady or Queen they could ever be near. Their eyes followed Cece as well, some of them frowning after her, making her feel extremely uncomfortable. Even their gaze held the danger that seemed to go along with the weapons they were holding. 

Hurrying closer to Loyie, Cece did her best to shrink herself and go unnoticed. However, with the ill-fitting dress, still red skin despite the minimal pain she now felt, and bare feet, she knew that she was far from being successful as even the women paused to stare after the stranger in their midst. 

Finally Loyie slowed in front of a hut that had a large birch tree, or what Cece thought was birch, as one of its supporting walls. It looked more hastily put together than some of the other huts, but she supposed that this strange camp may not always have the most time to put shelters together. 

Without knocking, Loyie entered the hut, Cece right on her heels. It was smaller than Loyie's simple quarters, with the floor being tramped down grass rather than the smooth mud floor of Loyie's. It held little furniture, with only three small wooden stools and a wide table against the far wall. The room held no cooking stove as Loyie's had, making Cece believe that only Loyie drank hot tea and ate on her own time. Everyone else probably had to eat together as a community. How do these people even live like this? 

Loyie glanced back at Cece for the first time and motioned her to sit on one of the stools. There was a tall, spindly woman standing at the table with her back to the door, grumbling under her breath. She was holding a long length of fabric that looked like a wide pair of pants in her hands. 

"Gheai," Loyie said softly, making the brown haired woman turn quickly, and nearly dropped the pants from surprise, "I need you to make this young lady a dress that fits her properly." 

Gheai's eyes flicked over to Cece with a disapproving frown. "Loyie, Prince Brama-" 

"Is a fool if he thinks we are not going to help this poor girl," Loyie said sharply, interrupting Gheai. 

Gheai pressed her lips together as if holding back a flow of words. Instead, she merely curtsied and muttered a, "Yes, Watcher. But I have little fabric or thread left, and this cursed wooden needle keeps breaking, so it may take me longer to do than usual."

 

"Make the dress short, if you must, "Loyie said casually. "I believe Cece is used to the style."

 

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