philip_charming (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
philip_charming) wrote2013-04-04 05:36 pm
philip_charming) wrote2013-04-04 05:36 pm
Entry tags:
Backdated to 3/30
Dream Effects: Confusion, anger, despair, a crushing protectiveness.
Warnings: N/A.
It was a bleak place he found himself in, skies roiling with clouds and the earth dank and lifeless beneath his feet. Hardly a sign of life anywhere, save for the army marching determinedly toward an unknown goal over there-
Wait, army?
And just like that, Philip was in front of the onrushing mass of men, like a black wall bearing down on him. He recoiled as they reached him, seemingly intent on trampling everything in their way... until they passed right through the prince like he wasn't even there. Was he some sort of ghost, in this place?
And who were these men? Dark helms, dark cloaks, dark tabards with silvered thorns, he had no idea what sort of group this might be. Where was any of this coming from? Why was their banner a rose without petals on a black field? Who led these soldiers anyway?
In the blink of an eye, he found out. He stood atop an open-topped iron palanquin, held aloft by a veritable horde of suffering goblins, Maleficent there- and off to the side, muzzled with steel and huddling around her hands for some reason. An iron fetter sat her throat, the chain rising to the seat upon the mobile platform- and there he saw a face he'd never forget.
The eyes were harder, the face harsher, the lips locked into a cruel sneer as if it could never change, but Philip still knew his own face when he saw it. But when he spoke, the sheer despite sawed at his ears.
"Some specter of my idiot youth come to trouble me? Come now, witch; surely you can do better than that."
Warnings: N/A.
It was a bleak place he found himself in, skies roiling with clouds and the earth dank and lifeless beneath his feet. Hardly a sign of life anywhere, save for the army marching determinedly toward an unknown goal over there-
Wait, army?
And just like that, Philip was in front of the onrushing mass of men, like a black wall bearing down on him. He recoiled as they reached him, seemingly intent on trampling everything in their way... until they passed right through the prince like he wasn't even there. Was he some sort of ghost, in this place?
And who were these men? Dark helms, dark cloaks, dark tabards with silvered thorns, he had no idea what sort of group this might be. Where was any of this coming from? Why was their banner a rose without petals on a black field? Who led these soldiers anyway?
In the blink of an eye, he found out. He stood atop an open-topped iron palanquin, held aloft by a veritable horde of suffering goblins, Maleficent there- and off to the side, muzzled with steel and huddling around her hands for some reason. An iron fetter sat her throat, the chain rising to the seat upon the mobile platform- and there he saw a face he'd never forget.
The eyes were harder, the face harsher, the lips locked into a cruel sneer as if it could never change, but Philip still knew his own face when he saw it. But when he spoke, the sheer despite sawed at his ears.
"Some specter of my idiot youth come to trouble me? Come now, witch; surely you can do better than that."