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Posted on August 29, 2012 at 06:50:04 AM by Dyna Bowmore
 Dyna clapped her hands, eyes shining. She loved the drama of the disappearing arrow, the complete mystery of the events. She had been the invisible one, the one no one noticed, for so much of her life that it was a thrill to hear of another invisible one being remembered in a story. You knew him? She exclaimed. Resorted to loosing an arrow. So he doesn’t approve of violence, another thing she’d wrongly assumed about him. Why were there always so many wars going on then? What did he actually control? Accepting the bottle back, she sipped thirstily at it. Just as she remembered – she hadn’t found anything to match it. Christoph had always claimed the wine was an annual present from her father, but as she had never known her father she had always chosen to dismiss these claims. Previously, she’d presumed it had been ‘borrowed’ from the Castle’s cellars, and yet here was Arthur, who surely had tried most of his stores, seeming to find it a new taste. It was like bottled sunshine. She licked the sweetness of it from her lips, quickly. You died? You remember being put it the boat after you died? She sipped again, thinking. Do you think we all had a different life, maybe in that world, before we came here? And why are you a king again? Did you enjoy it the first time? Do you miss it? Do you think something always puts you in a place where you have to be a king? She stopped, handed him the bottle back. Her cheekbones were once more faintly touched with colour. She fretfully plucked at the material of her dress, brow furrowed. I don’t remember any life before this one. But… sometimes I see other possibilities. Or ones that might happen. Suddenly, as though she had just gone blind, her sense of touch was heightened. His hand was warm and dry, a strong sense of comfort surging through it. The hand rested on the indulgent material of her dress, and she could feel the weight of his hand through it, against her hip. Her eyes stayed on his, but for that half a second where she became conscious of his physical presence, she could hardly see through them. She felt that she had never felt another’s skin so minutely as she felt it now. She became painfully aware that of a dilation of her senses, became aware that her body had turned, flowerlike, towards him. And then the dizzying sensation passed, and she was holding the king’s hand in his attic and soon he would probably tell her that she reminded him of some unprepossessing person like a daughter from that past life. She blinked and looked away, biting her lip. She marveled, quietly, at that sudden squall. It was not passion she felt: not the passion of the body, though that was there, but rather an exultation, a reaching for life. She reasoned that having a King burst into one’s childhood memories and hearing a story from another world, both within the hour, can temporarily undermine the self-control of anyone. DYNA BOWMORE
there's a bell in my ears... there's a wide white roar...
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