The mist is thicker now. It feels so right around her; wasn't she watching something? She was, and she wants to watch, though she can't quite remember why.
(Anna's half-lidded eyes droop, and she digs her fingers into the arms of her chair in an effort to keep herself conscious. And, true enough, the sleep-heavy part of her brain seems more distant from moment to moment.)
Someone wants to give her something. She doesn't trust gifts, as a rule, but she is Anna, too, and so she trusts the gift-giver. And besides, everything about this offering says it is precious, says it was made for her. She is meant to have it. Isn't that wonderful?
When she takes the gift, she feels it settle through her, all silver and gold, threads weaving into her mist.
no subject
(Anna's half-lidded eyes droop, and she digs her fingers into the arms of her chair in an effort to keep herself conscious. And, true enough, the sleep-heavy part of her brain seems more distant from moment to moment.)
Someone wants to give her something. She doesn't trust gifts, as a rule, but she is Anna, too, and so she trusts the gift-giver. And besides, everything about this offering says it is precious, says it was made for her. She is meant to have it. Isn't that wonderful?
When she takes the gift, she feels it settle through her, all silver and gold, threads weaving into her mist.