| |
|
Gale sat in the chair,resting his hands on the back of his head as he tipped his head back,eyes fluttering shut and almost immediatly,rest came.But so did the nightmares.Times when the king would stand before him,listening as he watched Gale become a tool,a shell of nothingness.Times when he would be probbed with the rod again,or burned again,or poisoned,do I need to go on? -- He shook slightly,twitching here and there as his face became a frown,his chest slick with sweat as he did. |
|  |
|
| |
|
Kayla watched him sit and she saw him moving in his sleep. She stood and walked over to the chair, sitting beside him on the floor, and leaned on it |
|  |
|
| |
|
Gale woke with a jolt, gasping for air, his body slick with cold sweat. His eyes flew open, but the nightmare still clung to him—visions of smoke, the sound of cracking stone, Kayla slipping further away from him. The weight of the dream pressed down on him, suffocating. His heart hammered in his chest, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure where he was. He blinked into the dim room, the quiet sounds of the inn grounding him back in reality. The fire in the hearth cast flickering shadows, and the soft creak of the floorboards under the weight of his own breath was the only sound. Kayla was still asleep, curled up against the chair, her body small and fragile in the dim light. He watched her for a moment, his pulse still racing from the remnants of the nightmare. His chest tightened, and he slowly dragged his hand through his hair, trying to steady his breath. The pain from the king’s interrogation flared up then—the stiff ache in his ribs, the lingering burn on his shoulders, the dull throb that ran through his arms. Every movement was a reminder of what he had survived, what he was still carrying. He reached down, his hand moving to gently brush a lock of hair from Kayla’s face, his fingers brushing the smoothness of her skin. The simple gesture—tender, almost protective—caught him off guard. He hadn’t let himself care, not like this. But the feeling was there now, strong and undeniable. He lingered there, his hand hovering for a moment longer than he intended, before he pulled away, forcing himself to focus. There was no time to indulge in these feelings. They were still being hunted, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted. After a moment, he stood, each step slow, deliberate, the pain in his muscles reminding him of the price he’d paid. He moved to the window, peering out cautiously into the stillness of the street. His eyes flicked back to Kayla, but he didn’t speak. Words weren’t necessary now. He went to the door, checking the lock one last time, before sitting down on the edge of the bed, running a hand over his face. The tension in his body didn’t ease, but he held on to the quiet comfort of knowing they were safe, for now. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, trying to push away the lingering dread from the nightmare. And then, without another glance at her, he stood again, ready to keep moving. There was no room for weakness—not now. But as he walked toward the door, his gaze flickered back to Kayla, something unspoken in the way he watched her. His chest tightened with something he couldn’t name, but for now, all he could do was keep her safe. They couldn’t stop. Not yet. |
| |
|
| |
|
Kayla had the same dream as a couple nights ago. Gale, being taken down by the guards as he had a fierce, defiant look on his face. She smirked brighter at him in her dream as his eyes met hers. |
| |
|
| |
|
Gale sat still in the corner, watching Kayla sleep, the weight of his aching muscles still heavy from the king’s interrogation. Every movement felt like a struggle, but he forced himself to remain calm, focused. The room was quiet, but outside, the faint sound of footsteps told him they weren’t alone. He peered out the window—two guards, moving closer. His eyes flicked back to Kayla. She was still asleep, unaware of the danger. He couldn’t let her stay that way. Slowly, Gale moved toward her, crouching down beside her. His body groaned in protest with every movement, but he ignored it. Gently, he shook her shoulder, his voice low but urgent. “Kayla,” he whispered. “Wake up.” His voice was sharp with urgency. “We need to go. Now.” |
| |
|
| |
|
Kayla heard him in her dream and quickly awoke, alert from the urgency in his voice. She nodded at him |
| |
|
| |
|
He grabbed her arm, helping her to her feet as quickly and quietly as he could. His muscles protested with every movement, a reminder of the pain he was still carrying from his escape, but he pushed it aside. He glanced back at the door, hearing the faint sound of footsteps drawing nearer. His heart pounded in his chest as he urged her toward the back of the room, his grip firm but not harsh. No time to explain, no time for questions. He reached for the door, pulling it open just a crack, and his eyes quickly scanned the hall. The guards were close, their voices rising faintly, unaware of the movement inside. Without waiting for her to say anything, Gale gently pulled her along, his steps swift but quiet. His breath was steady, his mind focused on one thing—getting them out of here before they were caught. He reached the back exit, the cool night air greeting them as he pushed open the door. Gale didn’t pause, didn’t hesitate. He pulled her into the shadows, his voice urgent. |
| |
|
| |
|
Kayla followed silently and obediently. She felt weak, helpless, as she followed him. He was truly the only thing keeping her alive, and she hated the fact that she was depending upon him when he was already burdened by pain |
| |
|
| |
|
Gale’s pulse thundered in his ears as the guards drew closer, their boots scraping against the stone, their eyes sweeping the alley. Every nerve in his body was on high alert, but he didn’t move—he couldn’t. They were too close. One of the guards stopped, his eyes narrowing. “Did you see that?” he muttered, his voice low but sharp. The other guard scanned the shadows more closely. "Come out," he ordered, his voice firm. "Both of you." Gale's heart skipped, and he was left with no choice but to slowly remove his hood, exposing his face. The guards froze, recognition flashing in their eyes. One of the guards stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Gale. “You... You’re the one from the escape,” he said, his voice laced with suspicion. Gale didn’t flinch. His tone was steady, cold. “I’m just passing through,” he said flatly. “Nothing more.” The guards exchanged a look, their suspicion deepening. One of them stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “Where’s the princess?” The mention of princess was like a sharp knife in Gale’s gut. His jaw tightened, but his voice remained calm, unwavering. "She’s not here," he replied coldly. "Keep moving." The guards didn’t seem convinced. Their eyes darted between him and the space behind him, and one of them reached out and grabbed Kayla’s arm, pulling her away from Gale with a forceful jerk. “I’ll have a word with her,” the guard said, his grip tightening around her wrist, dragging her further down the alley. Gale’s heart lurched. His entire body screamed to act, to move, but he held himself still, his jaw clenched. His eyes stayed fixed on Kayla as she was pulled further away, his thoughts spinning, frantic. The other guard stepped closer to him, his face hard with suspicion. “Who are you really? And why’s the king looking for her?” he demanded. Gale didn’t respond right away, his mind working fast. The words came out of his mouth before he could think. “I said she’s not here,” he spat, his voice low and sharp, tinged with barely controlled fear. The guard didn’t look satisfied. His grip on the hilt of his sword tightened, and he glanced back to his companion dragging Kayla away. “You’re lying. We’ll find out the truth,” he said, his voice heavy with threat. Gale’s pulse spiked. Every muscle in his body ached to run, to charge forward, to grab Kayla and disappear, but he stayed where he was, his eyes never leaving her. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the guards exchanged another look, before one of them grunted and turned away, muttering something to the other. They walked off, still wary but no longer stopping him. As they disappeared, Gale’s breath left him in a rush. He didn’t waste a moment. He turned to the direction where Kayla was being dragged, his voice low but cutting through the air with a chill that spoke of urgency and barely contained panic. “Get moving,” he snapped. “Now.” The command left his mouth like ice, a sharp edge of fear in every word. Every fiber of his being screamed to run, to reach her before it was too late. |
| |
|
| |
|
Kayla starined against the guard's hold, not speaking in fear he would recognize her voice. Thankfully, her hair was still in a braid, a style she had never worn around the kingdom but once. She hoped it'd be enough to hide her a bit from her obvious and usual look. The guard's hand was rough, callouses scrapping her arm as she was dragged away. She shot a look at Gale, desperate but with anger at the guards. She didn't have a knife on her, but spotted one on the guard's belt. She smirked slightly and slacked the tension on her arm from the tugs. She shot forward and grabbed it out of it's sheath, cutting the guard's knuckles and hopefully a tendon or two, as he released her with a gasp of pain |
| |
|
Snow and Sleet Mix, Clearing at Night
