152: Fic - The Dream

[dipenates.livejournal.com]

Title: The Dream
Author: dipenates 
Rating: R
Word Count: ~540
Prompt: The Dream of the Rood (Unknown Author, 10th century) Prose translation by E.T. Donaldson. Electronic Old English text by Mary Rambaran-Olm
Characters/Pairing (if any): Drusilla and Angelus
Summary: He visits her at her convent.
Warning: Angelus torments Drusilla. Intimations of violence, torment and general unpleasantness. Religious (specifically Catholic) imagery.

Hwæt, ic swefna cyst secgan wylle, hwæt mē gemætte to midre nihte.

Listen, I will speak of the best of dreams, of what I dreamed at midnight.

She would never have said Compline was her favourite hour, because to have a favourite hour was probably a sin, even if novice mistress Sister Teresa of the Holy Face hadn’t said it was. Yet.

But there was something about it that was even stiller than the others; made things stop squirming inside her like rabbits. Made her insides feel as deep and cool as the Thames, without even the stink of Cheapside.

She could feel the cloud of grace in the chapel, as strong as scent. Could see it flickering in the candles lighting the Sisters’ faces, like little wax dolls lined up in rows. She could feel it in her own stomach, as clean and as starchy as handkerchiefs on washday. (Sister Teresa of the Holy Face said that she shouldn’t say ‘stomach’, not when she was Novice Sister Gabriel.)

It was after Compline that things were bad. After the last notes of Nunc Dimittis had been chopped like scissors through golden thread. Although it wasn’t golden, the plainchant. Not glimmering like Bach.

But then the Silence came down like a veil, heavy as cloth and things moved behind it and in it.

And then he was there in her cell. Beautiful and terrible as Lucifer.

*

Bifode ic þā mē se beorn ymbclypte. Ne dorste ic hwæðre būgan tō eorðan, feallan tō foldan scēatum, ac ic sceolde fæste standan.

I trembled when the warrior embraced me, yet I dared not bow to earth, fall to the ground’s surface; but I must stand fast.

Daddy had died quietly and Mummy had screamed, but his face hadn’t smiled until he’d broken Milly and Mary like dolls.

Mary wasn’t that Mary. Not Theotókos, like Sister Teresa of the Holy Face said. Just plain Mary, little Mary. Contrary with her arms pulled off.

It wasn’t allowed to be in another Sister’s cell. It said so in the Rule. 

It wasn’t allowed to dance with the ghost of a terrible, alabaster angel.

*

Geseah ic þæt fūse bēacen wendan wædum ond blēom; hwīlum hit wæs mid wætan bestēmed, beswyled mid swātes gange, hwīlum  mid since gegyrwed.

I saw that bright beacon change in clothing and colour:  now it was wet with moisture, drenched with flowing of blood, now adorned with treasure.

They weren’t allowed to see themselves in the bath. Calico cloaks they soaped, while Sister Teresa of the Holy Face walked up and down between them. 

She could see her legs now, though, thin and pale. He’d taken off her habit like a dressmaker handling ancient silks, but he wasn’t so careful with her.

Cold hands. Cold everything.

They danced his macabre dance, and she tried to follow the outline he traced with his tendons and muscles. And then there was blood on her, sticky as jam.

*

Wēop eal gesceaft, cwīðdon cyninges fyll. Crīst wæs on rōde.

All creation wept, bewailed the King’s fall; Christ was on the Cross.

The ice shelf in her stomach cracked and slipped, and the little man on the wooden cross couldn’t make it stop.

Comments

[xlivvielockex.livejournal.com]

I approved this but it looks like you kept the name of your previous story on it. If you could just edit your post with the correct title, makes it easy for me when I do voting/banners. Thanks in advance. :)

[brunettepet.livejournal.com]

This is a vivid, haunting look at Drusilla unravelling in Angelus's hands. Angelus toys with her mercilessly, chipping away at her fragile psyche until making her his forever. A thread of violence and wrongness and anguish runs through each scene making for a gripping, breath taking read.

After the calm of Compline, this is fantastic: But then the Silence came down like a veil, heavy as cloth and things moved behind it and in it.

And then he was there in her cell. Beautiful and terrible as Lucifer.

Angelus cut a bloody swath through Drusilla's world, dragging her along on the dance. This eloquently captured that grisly dance. Nicely done.

[dipenates.livejournal.com]

Fixed!

Sorry for the mixup. I was copy and pasting this morning (when I should have been getting ready for work), because posting didn't work yesterday, and clearly wasn't paying enough attention. Thanks for the catch.

[a-mistletoe.livejournal.com]

I like the foreshadowing of certain obsessions that Drusilla carried through into her everlasting madness in the imagery you use: the nuns like rows of wax dolls; Mary and her nursery rhyme equivalent, but not that Mary. Chilling.

And to use the Dream of the Rood as a base with its visionary root was extremely clever.

[buffyangellvr23.livejournal.com]

wow, definitely chilling. Nice work.

[brutti-ma-buoni.livejournal.com]

was Just plain Mary, little Mary. Contrary with her arms pulled off.

That's just so Drusilla, even before she was turned - nursery tales and horror intermingle. And the Dream in the background, with all its imagery and passionate religion, gives a great setting for each section of escalating horrors.

[lynnenne]

Lovely and chilling.

[gillo]

I adored The Dream of the Rood when I read it in university - far and away my favourite A/S poem. And you use it so effectively, tying it in with Drusilla's fragmenting mind, her naivety and confusion.

This prompt has produced some amazing, unusual literary connections!

[dipenates.livejournal.com]

Thanks very much for a lovely comment. I really appreciate you saying that the violence comes across.

[dipenates.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much for the lovely comment.

I struggled with making Drusilla tip towards madness without having fallen completely over the edge yet, but I'm glad that it seemed foreshadow-y and not blatant rip-off-y.

The Dream of the Rood has always seemed incredibly dark to me (at least in the translations that I've read; my Old English is not up to much), and other comm members used Dr Faustus much more cleverly than I was going to, so I had to have a rethink.

tl;dr - Thank you!

[dipenates.livejournal.com]

Thank you v. much.

[dipenates.livejournal.com]

That's my favourite line. (I'm thinking on re-reading that there is a bit too much purpleness going on.)

Thanks for commenting.

[dipenates.livejournal.com]

Thank you very much.

[dipenates.livejournal.com]

Thank you very much for the lovely comment.

I really liked The Dream of the Rood at university, too. I've always thought it was dark, dark, dark, but I suppose that's a matter of interpretation.

This prompt has produced some amazing, unusual literary connections!

Hasn't it? I've not been a member of this comm for very long, and don't always have time to participate, but this has been my favourite prompt yet.

[gillo]

I really liked The Dream of the Rood at university, too. I've always thought it was dark, dark, dark, but I suppose that's a matter of interpretation.

Compared to

The Seafarer

or

The Wanderer

it's a bundle of laughs! I always preferred it to Beowulf, though. Possibly because our Anglo-Saxon lecturer disliked talking about similes and metaphors - it was all about teh philology for him - but with DotR you can't ignore the whacking great metaphors!

I've not been a member of this comm for very long, and don't always have time to participate, but this has been my favourite prompt yet.

Same here - this round was my first time posting here.

[mierke.livejournal.com]

Wow, this was very chilling.

Cool!

[jadechowfan12.livejournal.com]

Neat! :) Very well-written, too.

I just realized something -- Angelus reminds me of these serial killers: Jeffrey Dahmer (May 21, 1960 – November 28, 1994, aka the Milwaukee Monster), Ted Bundy (November 24, 1946 – January 24, 1989, a real "lady killer"), and Richard Ramirez (aka the Night Stalker). He could've given them a run for their money, of course. I also think he could've either a) show them what it's like to be a vampire and torture them to death, or b) sire them.