VIII. Langulor

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Langulor - listless indolence; dreaminess; a state of the body or mind caused by exhaustion or disease and characterized by a languid feeling.

Sleep didn't feel like sleep any longer. It felt as though Lilith was cosmogyral: whirling around the universe. She seemed to hear every sound, feel every touch, smell every smell. All the words of different tongues mixed and changed in her brain. She didn't barely know who she was, let alone where. Sometimes, she thought she could pick out one specific voice calling her name over, and over, and over again. Peter. She knew the name meant something to her, but what?

The room was dark and unfamiliar when she woke. In the corner was a fireplace, and tables. On a chair in front of the fireplace sat a man, lounging ungracefully. His hair looked like a golden halo in the light, and she knew immediately who it was.

"Peter?" Her voice came out croaky. His head snapped up as quickly as humanly possible, his blue eyes boring into hers.

"Lilith?" Why was he confused? Shouldn't he be happy she was up?

"Where are we?" He surged out of the chair and practically bolted to the side of the bed, gathering her up into his arms tightly. She could hardly breathe but said nothing. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, tears streaming down his face. He repeated her name over and over, as though he was chanting. She clutched at the back of his shirt, grabbing all of the extra material in her fists.

"You're alright?" he posed the statement like more of a question. She nodded against his shoulder.

"I think so." He pulled back to look at her face. He ran his hands over her cheeks, checking for both fever and cuts. When he was satisfied with her state of well-being, he kissed her. She moved her hands so they were clutching his waist and kissed him back. She wanted to keep looking at him, soaking in his features by the soft firelight. But this kiss. . .she didn't want it to end.

"I love you." she whispered against his lips. He groaned, pulling back to look at her again. She raised her hands to his face, wiping away the remaining tears. He smiled and placed his hands over hers, holding them to his cheeks. They sat for another moment, just staring at each other happily. He was glad she had finally woken up; she was glad he was there when she did.

"I love you, too. So much," he replied, kissing her palms. She grinned and leaned her forehead against his. He let her hands go and wrapped his arms around her waist instead, pressing against her back so she was right up against him. Her arms twined around his neck gently. As they sank into one another, Peter began to sing lightly.

"Deep in the meadow, under the willow-"

"A bed of grass, a soft green pillow," Lilith joined in quietly, turning her face into his neck. "Lay down your head, and close your eyes; and when they open, the sun will rise; here it's safe, here it's warm; here the daisies guard you from every harm; here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true; here is the place where I love you." He sighed against her as they finished, tightening his hold on the back of her nightdress.

He began to pull away and leave, but Lilith caught at his hand quickly. "Please don't go," she pleaded. His eyes went soft for a moment.

"I'll be right back."

"Promise?"

He kissed her forehead gently. "Promise." She sighed and let him go. He walked to the door, stealing a glance at her before opening it and leaving. She flopped back into a lying position, curling up on her side. She could hear his voice speaking in hushed tones to the guards outside the room. It was only a moment before he came back in.

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