You felt uneasy in the light. That’s why your dreams were dark and often colorless. You had control in that spectrum, you had control in the dark. So it was when you dreamt of a dark field of white roses that you thought you were in control.
It was more of a clearing than a field, but the flowers were so plentiful you could barely find a place to put your feet between their stems. The sky was a dark lavender, smoky and foggy, empty without its moon. The moon was the red bouncy ball of your dreams. It signified control. So where was it?
Vines and dark tree-trunks knotted into the ground behind you, and with every step between the thorned roses, it was your shadow. You held the slippery fabric of your cape between your fingers, the edges torn after you tugged it off a bundle of briars. Even with your cape and your hood the rest of your costume was replaced with a black dress that fell to your knees. It didn’t save your shins from being scratched by the thorns, but in this dream, you couldn’t feel pain… yet.
There was enough blood on your hands to last you a lifetime and yet here
you were, another pawn in the war against Alexandria, preparing to watch the
life fizzle and die from the eyes of your new enemies.
You’d been at the
Sanctuary a couple of months and managed to settle in much quicker than
expected. Although, it didn’t hurt that the boss had taken a shining to you and
inducted you into his ranks, giving you privileges most new Saviors could only
Blind luck had been
on your side that day and which each passing one you wondered when it might run
Negan had called
for you and requested you meet him in his quarters, which was exactly where you
were right now.