Restless, Angelus threw himself into bed, unmindful of anything else but the want and need of sleep. Yes, he craved it above all things, even now after she was no longer coming to him, for he believed that there still was a chance of her coming to his dreams. When she did, he'd seduce her so that she stayed and never left him again, trapped a prisoner of passion in his dreams.
Sleep stayed at bay, and he tossed on the bed. Thoughts of his Leannán drifted idly in his mind, but he wasn't feeling tired. Maybe the position he was in wasn't comfortable enough, sighing he flipped over again curling on his side. Less than a minute passed before grumpily he tossed again, landing on his stomach, cradling his head on his palms.
Growling in unrelieved wakefulness, Angelus flung himself over once more and flopped back against the pillows. A ragged curse flew from his lips as he twisted and turned in his feathered bed, for the first time hating the silken sheets and downy soft pillows.
The moon hadn't left the sky, it was still early twilight and dawn had yet to hit the horizon. Was it the fact that it wasn't all sunny and smiles be the reason why he was feeling so agitated? Sleep could never come too soon, and if he didn't see darkness in the back of his eyelids right now he was going to kill something.
Messily.
Very messily.
Erato should strike him now, let him write a poem about his Leannán. The rise of her upturn breasts with every breath, the ecstasy he found in her arms, the sweet parting of her rapturous thighs, the dainty arch of her foot, and something about the hazel of her soulful eyes. If only his dreaming muse would strike and give him something new to love about her.
Love?
Angelus screamed low and frustrated, throwing a pillow over his face and kicked angrily at the sheets that wrapped around his feet. This was not happening. He would not be tamed by a dream lover, he wouldn't.
Determinedly he got up and out of bed, throwing the pillow against the others before rushing out the room. He would not fall back into bed until he killed many things.
Messily.
And danced in their spilt blood.