wrongkindofsith | Room 418, Sunday Morning

Flanked by her sisters, she strode through the halls of the temple, her braid a familiar (too heavy, too tight) weight behind her head, her leathers (constricting) pristine, her chin raised (her skin crawled) with pride (disgust) as Lord Rahl told her about her gift "...untouched, I know you don't like others playing with your possessions."

She hesitated before taking the agiel Dahlia offered, instead watching the figure who hung in the middle of the chamber, chained and near-naked. The sickly green instead of warm and familiar reds bathing the walls lent everything an air of wrongness.

"If you don't one of us will." Denna, voice low, smoky, and covetous. "We're all eager to play with him."

Angered (afraid) she wrapped her hand around the handle of the agiel and struck...

...unchained, he knelt by her feet, staring up at her in blank adoration as she absently ran white-gloved fingers through his hair. "Good boy, Clark."

Cara wasn't really the type to bolt upright when waking after a bad dream. Of course, she didn't usually bodily launch herself off the bed while still half-asleep to land in an ungainly tangle of limbs after not bolting upright either, but somehow she managed that today.

[ooc: for that one guy]

Usually Clark was the one starting from impossible dreams and waking Cara by landing on her. Um, not that he hovered in his sleep - that would be insane.

Clark jolted suddenly with the motion, gasping in his half-asleep state. "I'm awake, mom!" His eyes opened at the same time his hands closed around the form sharing the bed with him. Right, not his mom. Much hotter, much more....freaked out. "Cara?"

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