Navarre, you feel the blood rush to your head and this strange sense of what might be vertigo as you sit up. Fast. Your heart is racing, your breathing is quickened, and you feel beads of sweat sliding down your forehead and chest. It's pitch black. You're in your room. There's only one window in this room. A tiny, barred square far above your bed. Even then, light doesn't get in because it simply looks out into an arched passage that leads beneath a balcony and connects the smithy and the gardens.
Must be early, you can't hear the sounds of formations yet. You feel the firm, raw grip of your pistol, that chiseled, diamond shaped grip, in one of your hands, finger on the hair trigger. You must have snatched it up in your sleep before you sat up. In the other hand, you can't see, but feel that awful sensation of rough human hair bound to a hard, but molded wax head. You trace your thumbs over the sewn-on, button eyes. It's that fucking poppet you found. Must have had a dream.
Do you remember the dream? If so, what was it about? Was Ruby in it? Ruby? Do you have dreams like this, wake up like this often? Or, is this your first time?
Hey... the door to your room is creaking slightly. It's basically a wooden plank fixed on the stone wall haphazardly when you moved in. Typically, you latch it shut; right now it's not. You can sense a presence moving into the room. Smells like Ruby. Yeah. Somehow she always smells good. Not enough water to bath regularly, but somehow she manages it. But, why is she slipping in now? You can't hear her bare footsteps on the cold stone floor. But, you feel her lift the blanket to get into bed.
"Navarre?" She whispers softly. "What's wrong? Why are you up?"
She runs her hands along your chest.
"My baby, why are you sweating? It's freezing in here. Lie down."
And, she tugs at you to lie down.
"I had to tinkle."
You didn't ask where she was. But, she answered.
"It'll be light soon."
What do you do?