IC: a cold night and a long morning II
*that night killian didn't sleep well at all, he tossed and turned his dreams concerned him, they were memories from the past, a battlefield of old laid out infront of him, the fire from several buildings lit the immidiate area, he watched helplessly as several of his comrades were cut down, he woke screaming, and shot his wall putting a hole in it, he looked down at his daughter, she had not stirred with his waking good, he climbed out of bed fixed himself a cup of tea and put his coat on, he proceeded to write in his journal and look out his window before passing out again at his desk the empty flintlock laying harmlessly next to him his tea remaining undrank and cold*
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killianfirehawk) wrote,
apathetic
