03-26-2014, 08:40 PM
Melantha, about three words in, presses her hands over her ears. It is her very subtle way of reminding Erich that she is not a morning person and she is having dreams about opening her mouth to let ash fall in it every night. When he stops talking or pantomimes successfully that he will slow down and be more quiet, she lowers her hands, looking groggy and -- yes -- a bit miserable.
She just shakes her head at the end, though. "Nothing changed in my dream," she says flatly, the way that yesterday most of what came out of her mouth was flat, flattened, pressed down. And if she sounds sort of resentful, or annoyed, or anything of the sort, well:
she had a dream about someone in a mirror whose face wasn't hers. She has unchanging, unchangeable dreams of endless woods and curling smoke and lone crows and ash falling like snow onto her tongue.
So they tell Tamsin. And for a few mornings after, Melantha just reports: I tried _______. It didn't change anything. It just became another part of the dream.
She just shakes her head at the end, though. "Nothing changed in my dream," she says flatly, the way that yesterday most of what came out of her mouth was flat, flattened, pressed down. And if she sounds sort of resentful, or annoyed, or anything of the sort, well:
she had a dream about someone in a mirror whose face wasn't hers. She has unchanging, unchangeable dreams of endless woods and curling smoke and lone crows and ash falling like snow onto her tongue.
So they tell Tamsin. And for a few mornings after, Melantha just reports: I tried _______. It didn't change anything. It just became another part of the dream.
my whole life is thunder.