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Oct. 7th, 2006 09:25 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
bipolar-uriel.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
neutral_omensTime: September 17, 2006
Place: Uriel's room
Status: Private (Uriel -- complete)
Summary: Dreams and thoughts on a certain alien.
Uriel lay in her bed, deep in thought. Bran seemed to be at rest, having ceased his sometimes rather tiring abuse of her insides, allowing her a moment of absolute peace. Her eyes wandered around the room only to once again return to the wall opposite to her.
Ever since she had started sleeping, she had come quite accustomed to dreaming. Most of these dreams involved either her child or Pestilence, or sometimes both; the rest were usually just bizarre, abstract visions she could find no meaning to. Lately, though, that had been... changing.
For one thing, she no more dreamed of Pestilence. Well, she did occasionally, but not the way she had used to do before. Nowadays they were mostly nightmares, horrible visions where he didn't care for her as opposed to her former dreams of him returning to her and their child. However, little by little, she had started to... not care. Of course it still hurt, but not as badly as it had before. It no more felt like he was breaking her heart; he had done that already, and it was in the past. He no more held that power over her, not even in her dreams.
While the dreams about Pestilence had been subsiding, the ones about her child – her son, Bran, a lovely little child – had become even more detailed and lively. No more unsure about the child's gender, she no more had dreams with little girls in lovely dresses. The baby dreams also seemed to involve Loki more, although whether this was due to her growing closer to him or her fear of losing him before Bran was even born remained uncertain. Even Mictain showed up every now and then, his character in the dreams ranging from a horrible threat to an occasional annoyance.
The thing about her dreams that most made her think, however, were the appearances of the Doctor.
Of course, it was only natural that she hadn't dreamed of him in the beginning of her pregnancy, as she hadn’t even known him back then. However, the frequency with which he had lately started to make himself at home in her dream world was truly something to wonder about.
Sometimes the Doctor dreams involved Bran, sometimes they didn’t. When they did, it was the Doctor playing with the child, or teaching him new things, or even putting him to sleep. This half intrigued, half frightened Uriel. While the activities were about the same Loki shared with Bran in her dreams, there was something different about those dreams. More than of her brother, they reminded her of her earlier dreams… The dreams where Pestilence had returned to take care of her and the child.
In those dreams she was usually there, often in the background, watching and smiling and laughing, or she was just observing the scene through her own eyes. It was the other kind of Doctor-related dreams, the ones that didn’t include Bran or only did so indirectly, that had herself in a more important role. Those were also the kind that made her think most – simply because she wasn’t sure what exactly to think about them.
Mostly it was just innocent, everyday little scenes, only with a certain quality of… closeness… she wasn’t sure she should associate with somebody she didn’t even really know that well. There was a picnic, she recalled, and meals and conversations, and she was painting a picture of him and he was trying to explain her how to use a laptop. And then there were not-so-everyday ones, when sometimes she would think she had woken up next to him only to notice it had been just a dream, or he was just holding her close while they sat on a couch, or he kissed her and it wasn’t on the cheek this time.
And then there were dreams she wasn’t sure she dared to remember, ones that contained things even less innocent than kisses, dreams of wandering hands and mouths and whispered vows of want and need and love alike. They were dreams she had once thought she would never have about anybody but Pestilence.
Uriel knew better than to ignore what her sub-consciousness was trying to tell her. It wasn’t only through her dreams, either; often she had been drawing with no particular subject in mind only to find herself looking at a familiar face with dark hair and eyes, or a vague form in a pinstriped suit. She would have had to be both blind and stupid not to figure it out.
So, she was attracted to the Doctor.
This, of course, was nothing to be truly shocked at. He was nice, polite, funny, and good-looking. What was there not to like? However, she still found herself doubting her own feelings.
Was this what she truly felt? Or was she just trying to find a replacement – or, worse even, opposite to Pestilence? They were so different, Pestilence and the Doctor. While they were both charming and nice, Pestilence had been old, light-coloured, and sickly. The Doctor, on the other hand, was young-looking, with dark hair and eyes, and looked like he hadn’t been sick for a day in his life. Where Pestilence had been somewhat quiet and reserved, the Doctor was talkative and open. Was she just trying to suppress her feelings for the Horseman by taking interest in someone as different from him as possible?
Surely that couldn’t be true. She liked the Doctor, had done so from the moment she first had met her. If he was different from Pestilence, what did it matter? They were both wonderful in their own way. Why couldn’t she love the Doctor, anyway? She had fallen in love with Pestilence in a much shorter time.
Not that it mattered anyway. He probably thought of her only as a friend. So he had held her and kissed her on the cheek. And? Maybe his customs were just a bit different from hers. He’d been just comforting a distressed friend. She’d do better to try to just forget about him rather than face a potentially painful rejection.
…But he had promised to take her with him when he left…
He would never get a chance to reject her, anyway, since most probably she could never gather the courage to tell him about her feelings. She could only hope her feelings would fade over time.
She thought about it for a long time, not reaching any final conclusion that would satisfy her. Finally, though, she fell asleep, too exhausted to even think anymore.
In her dream, there were stars. A million stars and one, all just waiting for her to come to them – and a hand in her hand, belonging to a man who wanted to show her them all.
Place: Uriel's room
Status: Private (Uriel -- complete)
Summary: Dreams and thoughts on a certain alien.
Uriel lay in her bed, deep in thought. Bran seemed to be at rest, having ceased his sometimes rather tiring abuse of her insides, allowing her a moment of absolute peace. Her eyes wandered around the room only to once again return to the wall opposite to her.
Ever since she had started sleeping, she had come quite accustomed to dreaming. Most of these dreams involved either her child or Pestilence, or sometimes both; the rest were usually just bizarre, abstract visions she could find no meaning to. Lately, though, that had been... changing.
For one thing, she no more dreamed of Pestilence. Well, she did occasionally, but not the way she had used to do before. Nowadays they were mostly nightmares, horrible visions where he didn't care for her as opposed to her former dreams of him returning to her and their child. However, little by little, she had started to... not care. Of course it still hurt, but not as badly as it had before. It no more felt like he was breaking her heart; he had done that already, and it was in the past. He no more held that power over her, not even in her dreams.
While the dreams about Pestilence had been subsiding, the ones about her child – her son, Bran, a lovely little child – had become even more detailed and lively. No more unsure about the child's gender, she no more had dreams with little girls in lovely dresses. The baby dreams also seemed to involve Loki more, although whether this was due to her growing closer to him or her fear of losing him before Bran was even born remained uncertain. Even Mictain showed up every now and then, his character in the dreams ranging from a horrible threat to an occasional annoyance.
The thing about her dreams that most made her think, however, were the appearances of the Doctor.
Of course, it was only natural that she hadn't dreamed of him in the beginning of her pregnancy, as she hadn’t even known him back then. However, the frequency with which he had lately started to make himself at home in her dream world was truly something to wonder about.
Sometimes the Doctor dreams involved Bran, sometimes they didn’t. When they did, it was the Doctor playing with the child, or teaching him new things, or even putting him to sleep. This half intrigued, half frightened Uriel. While the activities were about the same Loki shared with Bran in her dreams, there was something different about those dreams. More than of her brother, they reminded her of her earlier dreams… The dreams where Pestilence had returned to take care of her and the child.
In those dreams she was usually there, often in the background, watching and smiling and laughing, or she was just observing the scene through her own eyes. It was the other kind of Doctor-related dreams, the ones that didn’t include Bran or only did so indirectly, that had herself in a more important role. Those were also the kind that made her think most – simply because she wasn’t sure what exactly to think about them.
Mostly it was just innocent, everyday little scenes, only with a certain quality of… closeness… she wasn’t sure she should associate with somebody she didn’t even really know that well. There was a picnic, she recalled, and meals and conversations, and she was painting a picture of him and he was trying to explain her how to use a laptop. And then there were not-so-everyday ones, when sometimes she would think she had woken up next to him only to notice it had been just a dream, or he was just holding her close while they sat on a couch, or he kissed her and it wasn’t on the cheek this time.
And then there were dreams she wasn’t sure she dared to remember, ones that contained things even less innocent than kisses, dreams of wandering hands and mouths and whispered vows of want and need and love alike. They were dreams she had once thought she would never have about anybody but Pestilence.
Uriel knew better than to ignore what her sub-consciousness was trying to tell her. It wasn’t only through her dreams, either; often she had been drawing with no particular subject in mind only to find herself looking at a familiar face with dark hair and eyes, or a vague form in a pinstriped suit. She would have had to be both blind and stupid not to figure it out.
So, she was attracted to the Doctor.
This, of course, was nothing to be truly shocked at. He was nice, polite, funny, and good-looking. What was there not to like? However, she still found herself doubting her own feelings.
Was this what she truly felt? Or was she just trying to find a replacement – or, worse even, opposite to Pestilence? They were so different, Pestilence and the Doctor. While they were both charming and nice, Pestilence had been old, light-coloured, and sickly. The Doctor, on the other hand, was young-looking, with dark hair and eyes, and looked like he hadn’t been sick for a day in his life. Where Pestilence had been somewhat quiet and reserved, the Doctor was talkative and open. Was she just trying to suppress her feelings for the Horseman by taking interest in someone as different from him as possible?
Surely that couldn’t be true. She liked the Doctor, had done so from the moment she first had met her. If he was different from Pestilence, what did it matter? They were both wonderful in their own way. Why couldn’t she love the Doctor, anyway? She had fallen in love with Pestilence in a much shorter time.
Not that it mattered anyway. He probably thought of her only as a friend. So he had held her and kissed her on the cheek. And? Maybe his customs were just a bit different from hers. He’d been just comforting a distressed friend. She’d do better to try to just forget about him rather than face a potentially painful rejection.
…But he had promised to take her with him when he left…
He would never get a chance to reject her, anyway, since most probably she could never gather the courage to tell him about her feelings. She could only hope her feelings would fade over time.
She thought about it for a long time, not reaching any final conclusion that would satisfy her. Finally, though, she fell asleep, too exhausted to even think anymore.
In her dream, there were stars. A million stars and one, all just waiting for her to come to them – and a hand in her hand, belonging to a man who wanted to show her them all.
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