❝ when she looks into his eyes, she feels the gripping temptation to tell him all her darkest secrets; the names of the men she has killed, but she learned a long time ago that the only people who can keep secrets are resting in overgrown graveyards...
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN THE LABYRINTH OF GEDREF ( ii. )
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Sometimes, when Calliope surfaces from a nightmare, her terrors drift into waking hours until she is able to pinch herself back into reality and show her racing mind that she's safe. Much like this morning as she shoots upright in bed, drenched in sweat and her body shaking violently. Her heart hammers so hard against her chest that it aches. The blonde takes several deep breathes, running her hands through her hair and pinching her forearm; there's always a red mark present there.
As her heart descends to it's normal pace, Calliope swings her legs off the edge of the bed, but flashes from the nightmare remain in her thoughts. In her gut-wrenching dream, the blood wraiths had found her, and they were crushing her lungs from the inside out while she was forced to watch everyone she cares about suffer the same fate.
Fear is weakness. She reminds herself, clutching the wooden sides of her bed so hard her knuckles turn a pearly white. You cannot be afraid.
She can't ignore now much the nightmares are increasing as her inevitable fate creeps closer to her like an ominous shadow. Sleep is no longer peaceful, but something she dreads, laying awake at night with her eyes on the ceiling until her body forces her into a fretful slumber. Constant bags drag down Calliope's gaze, but today is worse somehow.
As she walks through the markets, joining Morgana and Gwen for a quick outing to get the king's ward silk for a new dress, she struggles to pay attention to any words they are saying. Her eyes droop; her muscles aching for a good rest and lulling her to drift amongst the terrors that haunt her during the night. Calliope wishes she could say that the faces of the men she has killed never visit her dreams; that their limp bodies and fixed eyes never implant themselves behind her closed lids, but that would be a lie. No matter how much she tries to play off her remorse like the common cold, it always finds her--entraps her in it's skeletal grip.
Of course she misses Morgana's question, not moving her head to examine the fresh silk threading between her fingers as she asked for an opinion, "...Cal?"
Calliope's eyes snap back to reality, focusing on the sheer material, "Oh, yeah, it's nice."
"Are you alright?" Gwen asks, her eyes prodding for an honest answer that Calliope would never give.
"I guess I'm just kind of on edge with everything going on," it's a sufficient lie; something flickering through everyone's minds.
The king's ward shrugs her shoulders, "Gwen and I handed out what we could from the palace kitchens. Having the water running through the city again is a miracle, but without food..." she trails off, not wanting to finish the sentence because just the thought is almost too much to bear.
Arthur had passed his first test, and his reward saved the city from dying of thirst, but he would have to do even better to bring the crops back to life. In the back of her mind, Calliope knows his next test won't be an easy task. She only hopes, for the sake of everyone, that he's prepared.
