Crimson Moon Report 29

Crimson Moon Report #29 - February 22, 2011
Summary: Pip's condition continues to deteriorate. Erim receives word from priests about helping his daughter.
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Official post by Naionna on 2/22/11
Pacing before her window, the man watches over her while she sleeps. Sleep is a loosely used term in this instance, as she tosses and turns more than rests and her cries come more frequently than her silence or snores. Even here, the bloody hue of the moon casts its crimson glow upon all in its gaze, a constant reminder of their situation.
"As if I needed reminding," he thought to himself.
Pausing a moment, he gazes through the window, looking outside of the small home that he occupies in Solhaven. The cobblestone streets are quiet; there are no wanderers, nor merchants; there are no citizens walking home from working late. The city is quiet. Like most towns, the crimson moon has caused its inhabitants to take to their homes. Inside their homes they can shield themselves somewhat from the blood-like cast of the menacing moon. Inside their homes they can have a relative sense of peace and quiet. It was deceptive, however. For even though they stay inside their homes, the crimson moon continues to shine down upon the lands.
"Its work continues to be done," he murmurs before bringing himself back from his thoughts to look over at his child. "She's so fragile. So very tiny and weakened." A tear touched his wrinkled cheek and he carefully wiped it away, resolved not to allow her to see his grief or fear if she should wake and be lucid enough to gaze upon him. His thoughts drift, remembering the first night of terror.
"Papa!" her cry had rang out, erupting through the normal silence of the small home where she lives with her father. Erim came running, still sluggish and hazy from his slumber as he stumbled through the tiny hallway and burst through the door to her room. It was painted in several different colors with no apparent pattern or design each wall a different, vivid splash of color. Not to be left out, the ceiling was painted a loud pink hue and her floor was almost invisible beneath the large makeshift rug shed patched together. She'd finagled the local seamstress into giving the scraps from her designs and Piperel fashioned them into a bright rug that she adored. Yet all of that riotous color could not dispel the foreboding sheen of crimson pouring in through the single window from the blood moon.
There she lay, amongst her thick blankets, twisted within them as if they'd been wrestling for hours against each other. Her body was arched dramatically; her expression riddled with agony while a sheen of sweat caused her nightshift and hair to cling to her little form. She was still asleep, unaware of his presence; unaware of anything but the stark terror of her mind. The terror "He" had placed there. "He" was certainly efficient at what "He" does. She'd not had a moment of peace since that night, and this particular night, this first night of agony was the worst.
Every moment that passed by was another of terror for his Pip. A broken sob escapes her as she contorts on the bed, her hands clenched violently in the covers as she strains in the throes of her nightmare. Suddenly, just as Erim could take no more and considered slapping her to bring her to consciousness, her eyes flew open their depths were coal black and spittle clung to her chin, her teeth bared much like a canine and her jaw strained. She began chanting in a language that Erim did not know; each word almost wrenched from her slender little frame with force as she shook against the restraints. Finally, she collapsed and as her eyes drifted closed, a single phrase was murmured "He comes."
Erim drew himself out of his memories and pushed back a lock of lackluster hair from Piperels temple, wiping at the sweat to help with the heat. "Oh Pip.." he sighs, and his eyes convey his weariness and determination as he lifts his gaze to the window once more. "I just hope they respond soon. I'm not sure how much longer you can hold on," he continues before he clutches her hand in his own, sitting down next to her bed on the small chair. Her grip is tenuous at best, the nightmares having taken their toll on her small form rendering her thin, malnourished, under-rested, and sickly in appearance.
As if on cue, he glanced toward the front of the house as he considered the Priests he'd written to in desperation. The knock startled him, and for a moment he wondered if he had not conjured it in his mind only as the timing was a coincidence of the extreme. And yet no, there was truly a messenger at his door, the harried and fearful look on the boy's face familiar to Erim as most had that look if they were under the moon's gaze as of late. A trembling hand pushed a message into Erim's and the boy was tipped handsomely for his trouble, before he rushed off into the night and left Erim to his privacy.
Opening the message by breaking the wax, Erim settled down at his daughter's side once more, watching over her with one eye and scanning the letter with the other. After a few moments, his weary visage curved with a slight smile as he closed the message and patted Pip's bony hand with his own. "Next Leyan, Pip. Next Leyan.." he breathed out, as if afraid to voice it too loud for fear that it may be taken away. Leaning his head back against the wall, he closed his heavy lids and took a few weary breaths while listening to a momentary lapse in Pip's terror as her breathing evened out. Before long, he too slipped into sleep's embrace one hand clutching the opened message, and the other on Pip's twitching form.
The crimson moon continued to shine down upon the small home, unrelenting in its presence.
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