walksindeath: (Looking up)
The faint light from the Charter Stones seems to turn everything to muted grey and gold from behind Sabriel's half-closed eyes. It is warm here in the centre of the reservoir, slowly melting away the chill from crossing the water earlier. She lies still in the bottom of the boat so as not to jar her leg; it still hurts, but by now in a healthier, sorer way as the spells drain away the inflammation and infection, bolstered by the strength of the Charter stones above.

The stones are always comforting, although sometimes if she thinks too deeply, she wonders if the darker traces on the rock under the flow of charter marks are Touchstone's blood, from the many months he had spent mending them. And then she remembers coming down here the first time, into the horror of black water broken stones and oncoming Dead.

Maudlin thoughts, and probably feverish.

She closes her eyes all the way, and wills the Charter to heal her faster. There's so little time for anything, these days.
walksindeath: (Distant)
Sabriel had meant to stay in the bar after speaking to Blodwen, but the experience had shaken her more than she had liked to show. The woman is terrifying just by being, and yet so apparently rational, so cool. Kerrigor had retained his wits, but no ability to mimic humanity in conversation that way, and yet...

They are all too alike.

The Abhorsen has seen a great deal in her years since taking up the bells, but there are some things that still frighten her.

She really must speak with Sameth. Her own door is still gone, but if his is back... far better if he is away. The forge would seem her most likely chance of finding him, so there is her first port of call, knocking on the door and then peering in anyway.
walksindeath: (Default)
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February 2010

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