Surreal sleeps and we weren't waking

[womanfromacre]

Who: Altaïr and Maria
What: Residual issues bubbling up and over into something little more serious than a lovers' spat.
When: Night of 459
Where: Odin 105
Rating: PG for angst and possible language

[She's tried not to let it get to her. They were only dreams after all, dreams are unimportant, they mean nothing in the grand scale of things, they cannot hurt or harm her.

They can kill her son before her eyes night after night though, long after everyone else she knows and cares about have told her their sleep has gone back to being undisturbed. They can wake her in the night and leave her shaking, lying rigid in her bed and struggling to get back to sleep. Most nights she just gets up and finds something else to do, pushing her to the brink of exhaustion so she has to fall asleep again and even then it is still not good sleep.

Tonight it's no different, and Maria has slipped from her bed, leaving her husband asleep in their room, and made her way to the living room. She snaps on a light and sits on the sofa with Darim's blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The scent of him on the lambswool has grown fainter, she can scarcely smell him anymore. That alone is enough to bring a lump to her throat as she draws it closer to herself and closes her eyes, willing her mind's eye to conjure images of her baby as she remembers him, bright eyed and rosy cheeked and not broken and lifeless on the rocks beneath the walls of Masyaf.

That is almost worse, as it only makes her long for him more.

This will not do. She forces herself to move from the sofa and over to the kitchen space. She needs a distraction, something take her mind off Darim and her nightmares. There is fruit in the fridge. Perhaps she will prepare breakfast now, so it is ready to eat when she and Altaïr come to the table in the morning.

She takes a knife and begins to slice an apple.]