A harmless attempt at writing with someone elses characters. All events and places as well as characters remain the property of the amazing Celia Friedman, and no harm at all is meant by my borrowing of them! Nor is any profit being made from this story... Harmless.... honest!!
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She was standing on the edge of a clearing. In her hands…ecstasy. She felt it rise within her, wave after wave of glorious sensation. Power the like of which sent shivers down her spine. Power, that was music to her soul. It was a beautiful sensation, so overwhelming that even as she dreamt she felt her eyes drift closed. A burning rightness, carried higher, and higher with every passing breath. She was here. Here was fulfilment… Here was the tower of her dreams. Anguish coursed through her. She woke with tears warm against her face.
'Allesha?' He asked her. Not 'Lesha - not him… She shook her head, no. 'Go back to sleep,' she whispered, rising from the bed herself. He was waking, she saw, and from his eyes he was concerned. 'Allesh-'
'-No' She said it harshly. 'No.' A whisper. A pause, and then 'Of course. If there is anything…' She shook her head. 'There's nothing' It was true.
Even when she braced herself the outside air was cold. She stood there for a moment, shivering. It made a vivid contrast from the scalding, burning need evoked by dreams. She had quickly learnt that she needed it so. Ah gods those dreams… She was crying still. Not the heaving sobs that had come with the decision to break up, but gentler, unbroken tears.
She knew – had known, the first night that her dreams had changed, had felt his absence, and known what it must mean, without needing to be told. That she had failed him.
Allesha mourned.