Disclaimer: Nope, I own nothing.
Sometimes she would stare out at the dark city, at the streetlights dimmed by soot and time, and wonder.
What would it have been like if He'd lived? Sophie didn't believe that it would have effected the course of the War, but it had changed her life. More and more it seemed as though those few months she had spent on the road with a Wizard and his Apprentice had all been a dream.
A very realistic, lovely dream. Often she wondered...
What would her life be like if the bomb hadn't hit the shop? Sophie looked down at the wheeled chair that was both her prison and her freedom. At the ring on her finger that held a tiny red stone that had lit up like a becon seconds before the bomb hit. At all of the broken promises.
I've found something I want to protect...it's you.
At least she could still make her hats...
The smell of charred feathers and oil filled the air arond her. She buried her face into his back. "Then don't go! Run away!" Why couldn't he listen to her...?
Sometimes she wondered what had become of the Scarecrow. She had searched high and low for him among the rubble, and had found not so much as a single stick of charred wood. Maybe that turnip-head had gotten away. But she doubted it. Nowadays people would have been happy to see a turnip...then again if that stupid prince had ever shown up they wouldn't be living in such misery...
Sometimes she dreamed that she was flying...flying away through the clouds with a handsome Wizard by her side. Markel, dear sweet Markel, was playing with the dog out on a lawn...how strange, to have a lawn while flying.
But then she was falling...falling back through the clouds, and screaming as the scent of smoke and burned feathers choked her. No!nonononononono...
Sophie sat bolt up right, her heart pounding. The red light of the war alarm blinked reassuringly at her. It had just been a dream...just a dream.
Such a lovely dream...for the most part.
Often Sophie wondered what would have happened if He hadn't been killed by that bomb...it hadn't had any effect on the war, but...what if it had? She reached for a notebook and pen that her therepist thought she should have handy at all times, and started writing.
...he pulled the bomb back with all his strength, his wings pulling frantically at the air...the bomb buried itself in the courtyard. And didn't go off.
Sophie chewed on the end of her pen, thinking. What happened then? Perhaps if she wrote it down, from the beginning.
Chaper One: ...In Which Sophie Talks to Hats.
It was a very realistic, very lovely dream...
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~commontater