The flames crept closer, they licked the upholstered couch on which he slept. They crawled towards him with fingers that couldn't hold to their shape caressing the blankets that covered him. The burning hand stroked his left cheek like a lover, setting the old brand of the wolf and the All Seeing Eye to blistering. His eyebrow smoldered, wisps of his bangs melted away filling the room with the smell of burnt hair, and cooked flesh. Another hand found the skin at his chest, and covered over his heart. The flames intensified burning straight through skin and muscle. Bones turned to ash and the sleeper screamed in his agony.
The hand withdrew from the cavity it created holding the heart that still beat. Blood boiled from the surface and the sleeper's eyes shot open with his next scream. Everything was fire, the world burned for him and his reward had come at last. The creature over him seemed to laugh, though it sounded more like dried leaves blowing in the wind. Kruger saw her there, or that which was recognizable. Hair of fire and green eyes on a face that closed with his own and touched burning ethereal lips to his. His mouth filled with flame that cauterized as it cooked and left only agony in its wake"
Eyes the color of wheat opened as the echoes of his scream rebounded off the walls and ceiling. It was warm, too warm. He hadn't finished last night, the forge fires were burning dangerously high. He pushed damp blankets from him moving quickly to avert what would have turned deadly. He began to bank the coals properly until his foot struck the object on the floor. It skittered away, tinkling in its path, and struck the anvil's base, to shatter in a way that could only be glass. His eyes found the broken cylinder neck of the bottle he had kicked. There was no puddle on the floor to indicate that it had been full.
Glints of light sparkled off the bits of glass that had once been whole. Kruger recalled the dream, he put a hand to his cheek to feel the all too familiar brand that he had been given. It felt as he always remembered, so why did his chest hurt so much' Why could he still taste the flames that had consumed his tongue" His whip scarred back was clammy somehow cold in the near stifling heat of the forge. He closed his eyes trying to recall the bottle. How he had come by it' Why he had it, all the while wondering if he had consumed its contents. He remembered the party, playing with the children. He remembered the flinch at being touched, pulling away from an amiable kiss on the cheek. He was pushing everyone away. They could not help him, they would only get hurt by being close.
"Was that you again? Did I sleep through the sign?" A new burning sensation found him, that terrible burning itch that lived beneath his eyelids and threatened to pull more from him than he was willing to easily allow. The broom came to his hand and he worked on that scattering of glass shards and bits.
The bin was filled with ash, and he knew then that the coals on the forge were fresh. He didn't recall doing that. The broken bottle pieces hit the ash sending a cloud upwards towards him. "Too dangerous, I can't afford to lose myself this way. I will have to endure, there is no other way." The pain he had in his chest increased, spreading like a shockwave, and leaving him with an unfamiliar wetness on his cheeks.
"T" m' scriosta" The words whispered found their way to the vaulted ceiling through the whispering columns and sounded behind him even as he said them. In his head he heard a song, one that would have him moving to retrieve his leather apron and recovering his tools. ?"isteacht liom, a chruth' m".?
The hand withdrew from the cavity it created holding the heart that still beat. Blood boiled from the surface and the sleeper's eyes shot open with his next scream. Everything was fire, the world burned for him and his reward had come at last. The creature over him seemed to laugh, though it sounded more like dried leaves blowing in the wind. Kruger saw her there, or that which was recognizable. Hair of fire and green eyes on a face that closed with his own and touched burning ethereal lips to his. His mouth filled with flame that cauterized as it cooked and left only agony in its wake"
Eyes the color of wheat opened as the echoes of his scream rebounded off the walls and ceiling. It was warm, too warm. He hadn't finished last night, the forge fires were burning dangerously high. He pushed damp blankets from him moving quickly to avert what would have turned deadly. He began to bank the coals properly until his foot struck the object on the floor. It skittered away, tinkling in its path, and struck the anvil's base, to shatter in a way that could only be glass. His eyes found the broken cylinder neck of the bottle he had kicked. There was no puddle on the floor to indicate that it had been full.
Glints of light sparkled off the bits of glass that had once been whole. Kruger recalled the dream, he put a hand to his cheek to feel the all too familiar brand that he had been given. It felt as he always remembered, so why did his chest hurt so much' Why could he still taste the flames that had consumed his tongue" His whip scarred back was clammy somehow cold in the near stifling heat of the forge. He closed his eyes trying to recall the bottle. How he had come by it' Why he had it, all the while wondering if he had consumed its contents. He remembered the party, playing with the children. He remembered the flinch at being touched, pulling away from an amiable kiss on the cheek. He was pushing everyone away. They could not help him, they would only get hurt by being close.
"Was that you again? Did I sleep through the sign?" A new burning sensation found him, that terrible burning itch that lived beneath his eyelids and threatened to pull more from him than he was willing to easily allow. The broom came to his hand and he worked on that scattering of glass shards and bits.
The bin was filled with ash, and he knew then that the coals on the forge were fresh. He didn't recall doing that. The broken bottle pieces hit the ash sending a cloud upwards towards him. "Too dangerous, I can't afford to lose myself this way. I will have to endure, there is no other way." The pain he had in his chest increased, spreading like a shockwave, and leaving him with an unfamiliar wetness on his cheeks.
"T" m' scriosta" The words whispered found their way to the vaulted ceiling through the whispering columns and sounded behind him even as he said them. In his head he heard a song, one that would have him moving to retrieve his leather apron and recovering his tools. ?"isteacht liom, a chruth' m".?