Dream.

[witchscauldron]

Short, brief.

A dark place, little light, breathing walls. Smoky, sacred-smell. Familiar. Rustling, unsettled air.

Hunted. Lionesses chasing, bearing down. Claws like obsidian, eyes like white fire. I run...I lose. I am marked, and I Change. I fly away.

A dark place, little light, breathing walls. Smoky, sacred-smell. Familiar. A swift movement, almost unseen.

A woman, coal black. Black skin, black hair, black fangs and black heart. Red drips from her fingernails, her claws. White fire burns in her eyes, is her eyes. I know her. She has tasted my flesh before.

She beckons. I awake.

Comments

*shrugs*

[morgandria.livejournal.com]

I don't know. I don't know why Sehkmet would be out to hunt me, or hurt me like it seems to be. I am not a threat to her. I will ask her, but it is hard here, in my apartment filled with Celtic dreams...Morrigan is silent and sullen, remaining distant. I have no space in which inviting another would not offend her. I will have to go elsewhere, and make the time...

-M.