It happens to everyone - sometimes, you have nights where you just can't fall asleep, no matter what you do. It could be for a number of reasons, or no reason at all. And this is what's happened now: you've been laying in bed for what feels like hours, just tossing and turning, and nothing seems to help. So what's left to do? Get out of bed and go wake someone else up, of course. If you're not getting any sleep, then why should they?
i n s t r u c t i o n s • Post with your character (note the name and fandom in the subject).
• Other people reply to you by generating a number from 1 to 10.
• Have fun!
o p t i o n s 01 • FEAR. Maybe you're hearing strange, indeterminable noises; maybe there's a severe storm happening outside; maybe you watched a scary movie before bed? Whatever the reason, you're terrified and it's keeping you awake. You just want to wake someone else up so they can protect you from the monster in your closet.
02 • HUNGER. Your stomach is growling and it just won't stop. Or perhaps your throat is so dry you could cough up a tumbleweed? Well, you've gone to the kitchen to remedy this and hey, that was a pan that just dropped on the floor. It was loud enough to wake the dead! Oops.
03 • PAIN. Your body is completely worn out, be it from exercise, battle, sickness, or what have you. Either way you're in enough pain to keep you from sleeping, so maybe someone else has a home remedy or something, or can at least help you take your mind off of it.
04 • SOLITUDE. For some reason, your bed just feels so empty at the moment. You're feeling terribly lonely and really just want someone to keep you company for a while. Maybe it'd be easier to fall asleep if you're with them...
05 • DISCOMFORT. Your room is an oven. Either that or a freezer. Or maybe this bed is just really uncomfortable? Who knows why you can't get to sleep, it feels like it could be anything. Why even bother trying? Maybe someone else can preoccupy you until you feel tired enough to ignore your discomfort.
06 • PENSIVE. Something's on your mind, and no matter how hard you try to focus elsewhere, it's just not going to work. Your body may be tired, but your mind is incredibly busy and it's virtually impossible to get to sleep. Surely, talking it out with someone else will help?
07 • SADNESS. Something terrible has happened that day, perhaps; or you could just be severely depressed. Either way you're trying your hardest not to cry yourself to sleep, and it's not working at all. Better find a way to get it out of your system somehow; you need a shoulder to cry on.
08 • ANGER. You are just... fuming. Who knows why - that annoying dog is barking again, or maybe the people next door are getting busy and keeping you awake. Whatever the reason for your ire is, you'd better put an end to it so you can get some damn rest already! Go wake up a friend so you can complain to them.
09 • RESTLESS. You're far too energetic to sleep right now. Maybe you're just trying to do so out of necessity - you have to be up early tomorrow! But you just don't think you'll be able to fall asleep for a while now, so why waste the time trying to sleep when you could be doing something else? Namely bothering someone else - you're totally jealous because they're getting more sleep than you.
10 • WILDCARD. Choose one of the options above, or make up your own scenario. |
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bakerstreet2015-03-12 04:11 pm
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I thought you might forget how. Or that you might not sound right when you changed. [Understanding just how his mother's thoughts worked inside the skin of a bear or a spider was difficult for him when he was small. One of his more prosaic nightmares featured her attempting to defend them in another creature's form and being unable to shift.] Spiders were the hardest noise.
[His hands imitate hers, his slender-legged spider attacking hers, as giant spiders are wont to do.]
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A shapeshifter does not forget. 'Tis as natural as breathing.
[Even if she could forget, she suspects she is far too practiced. Lowering her hands, she reaches out with one, touching his shoulder.]
It will be soon, my love. I cannot say how soon. I know patience is difficult.
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[When her hands hit his, he closes them around hers, transforming his spider's legs into jaws of sorts--and then lets go.]
I've been trying to be patient. [Kieran sighs, leaning against her just a little.] It's hard.
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Do you remember the inn with the yellow door in Val Foret? On our way to Val Royeaux for the first time? [So close to the capital and with the intention of making an impression spurring her on, it seemed wise to allow them all the luxury a nice room at an equally nice inn provided. Not a camp in the woods, not a room above a booze-soaked tavern.] There was a pond behind it? Even the fish in pond were extravagant, gold and scarlet with swirling tails.
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And the bed was so soft I couldn't sleep. [It was the finest place he'd ever seen--and then they entered Val Royeaux. Before than, Kieran hadn't realized just how extravagant the world, especially the world of the Orlesian upper class, could be.] I liked the fish; they let me touch their heads.
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[The prettiest fish she has ever seen, lodged well into her memory with his delight over them. She inclines her head toward his.]
I could never quite grow accustomed to Orlesian beds. [She made a point of finding a Ferelden-made mattress for her own use at the palace, but she put up less of a fight about the Orlesian sheets.] Still, sleeping on the ground now may feel strange indeed.
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I don't miss the rocks. But if you sleep in a bed, you can't hear the animals. And the wind sounds different. [He falls quiet, gaze drifting back up to the night sky. Skyhold is nothing like the places they lived when he was very small, but it's closer than Val Royeaux.] Maybe that's why it's hard to sleep sometimes.
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[She much prefers rain to snow, but spending the night in a bedroll on the soaked earth has a way of chilling to the bone and making mornings miserable.]
A clear night with the stars bright overhead and a stream murmuring nearby can balance that out. You can hunt for constellations until sleep claims you.
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[Rainy nights in the forest are nice for about two minutes, mostly if you're standing still and appreciating the smell of the rain. And then they're muddy and itchy and cold, and everything's grimy for days.]
How do you think they decided what the constellations should be? Some of them don't look like their names at all.
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I imagine groups of people enjoying great quantities of wine under the stars, arguing with each other about the patterns they see above them.
[A gently teasing smile curves her lips when she glances at him again.]
I believe we should make our own constellations.
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We should. [He squints up at the stars, looking for patterns; the ones he's already learnt are sharp in his mind, enough so that he has to consciously try to forget their shapes and look for new ones.] What do you see?
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Here we are.
[The arm that isn't around him rises, one finger pointing at an upward slant, over the wall ahead of them, slightly to their right.]
Right above the battlements you see a star so faintly tinted blue? Allow your eyes to draw a long line straight up to the next blue-tinged star high above it. There are three more directly over that one, forming a small point. We should call that one Winter's Breath. I once had an icy staff with the same name.
Do you see one?
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Winter's Breath. I like it.
[He turns his head this way and that, letting his gaze scan over the stars until a few jump out at him. And it's his turn to point, turning a little to face them more fully.]
There's a little cluster of stars right there, like a triangle. It's a pile of lyrium dust.
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There it is. Is that what we shall call it now? Lyrium Dust?
[She quickly glances at him, smiling again, and then looks toward the sky again.]
I see another. [This time she points off to the left, drawing invisible lines that twice zigzag up and then down.] Six very bright stars close together. The ears of a cat.
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[A more complicated name, and they'd never remember it. The old constellations all have names that mean clear things, too, if you know the references.]
I see it! Look, that could be one of its eyes.
[It's a bright star, one without a mate--but some cats only have one eye. Close enough.]
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[She smiles more broadly and nods her approval, still looking up toward that particular patch of sky.]
Either way, I like it very much.
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[He likes it, too--the constellations the ancients made up seem so serious in comparison to theirs. Kieran likes the idea of a cat watching them on their travels, even if it's an imaginary one.]
What should we call it?
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[She falls silent for a moment, then lets out a small huff of amusement.]
Arrow. For the shape of its ears, which may point us toward adventure one day, if we so desire.
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[He looks over at her, a little hopeful. They're not quite as appealing as dogs, of course--Kieran is enamoured of the idea of a pet that follows one about and does as one asks it--but he'd still be pleased at the idea of keeping a cat.]
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Despite very much preferring his interest in cats to his interest in hounds.]
I agree. It could be a fine name for a real cat.
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Mostly, it applies to trivial things, or things so important there aren't really words for them. But some things, like the possibility of pets, fall decidedly in the middle, and so Kieran feels no misgivings about voicing the thought sitting between them.]
If we named a real cat, we would have to take it with us. It would be ours.
[He thinks it's a generous offer, allowing her to name it.]
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[There is a thread of truth in that line of thinking; there can certainly be a power in names.]
How fortunate that I have seen no strays around the fortress.
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[Mother might find it funny, but Kieran thinks it's perfectly reasonable. If you're familiar with something to the point of giving it a name, you own it to the point of taking care of it. Cats who take care of themselves don't require names from people.]
Neither have I. [His expression flags slightly, admitting it.] I wish there were a few. We could let one live with us.
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His interest is great, though, and she is not quite sorry enough. A small part of her thinks that if a cat did insinuate itself into their lives she would allow it, but that may well be out of a desire to keep dogs so firmly out of the picture.]
Would it then travel with us?
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It could sit on my shoulder.
[He'd want a smart cat, after all, one clever enough to sit still--and he thinks he could make it a leather leash, like the jesses falcons wear, even if it wasn't especially bright. It wouldn't be quite as good as his own bonded mabari, but it would be something.]
Or we could carry it in a basket. We could find a way to bring it with us.
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