| A friend is your needs answered-- |
[] |
She is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And she is your board and your fireside.
For you come to her with your hunger, and you seek her for peace.
Breath in.....out....a soft sigh, a long stretching of muscles much-accustomed to the slight burn and pull of work. She leans forward, one leg extended, her forehead bowing in gentle praise to the glowing orb of sunrise painting the window gold. As her forehead touches the floor, another soft sigh, this one of relaxation, of completion, the worshipful motion at it's pinnacle. Teyla relaxes this way for long moments, her body stretched to it's limit, her face a mask of complete serenity--here there is peace--in the stretch and sway, in the tight ache of muscles relearning movements forgotten from only a day earlier. She smiles and begins the motion again on the other leg, this one only slightly tight from long-ago injury. She shows it no mercy, pushes it has hard as the other, her sigh longer, more controlled as she leans into the stretch. With unparalelled grace, she rolls to her feet and begins the easy morning kata, her movements fluid and slow--soon enough Dr Macgregor will join her--and they will begin their day together, bodies swaying together in the morning sun.
|
|
|
| Leaving home, going home......there is no home any longer. |
[] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 numb |
] |
I have been allowed three days leave from Atlantis for personal reasons, though I am to accompany Dr. Brown as she does extensive botanical analysis in an unexplored part of the mainland. I have been found.....innocent of any wrongdoing in the recent attacks on Atlantis, but....I know I am no longer trusted. I understand the fear, the guarded looks I am sent. It is all I can do to bear the guilt myself. I have had no contact with Colonel Sheppard, Jinto, Ronon, any of my team. Secreted away, I only recieve visits from Dr. Beckett's nurses on occasion, and frequent calls from Dr. Heightmeyer.
I do not understand how this could have happened, I felt so in control, so able...so capable of fighting the contact.
I never knew I was being used, never understood the nightmares for anything beyond restless sleep.
I was a fool, and I will not be again. I would die before allowing myself to be used as a spying device again. I hope another opportunity presents itself, for some sort of change, for some way to close my mind to this, or to strengthen it beyond the Wraith's capacity to invade. If not, there are ways to assure myself I am no longer a threat. I merely hope I have the strength to carry them out.
The transport is leaving soon--I must go.
--------------------------------------
Teyla is dressed in the clothes she was wearing the first day the Atlanteans came into her life. The worn fabric calms her, helps her regain a modicum of the quiet strength that used to reside where now there is nothing but turmoil and unease. The jumper is already being prepared, and she greets the pilot soberly, and seats herself, awaiting Dr. Brown.
|
|
|
| Trapped |
[] |
......darkness.....pain.......an unfamiliar ship in an unfamiliar place.
...familiar eyes and skin and long, white hair. The surge of nausea, of agony that Dr. Beckett had been so desperate to save her from.
She is one of many, a cog in an ever-turning wheel. Desperate, hungry, her body aching and straining for a sustenance she doesn't understand how to obtain. There are others, subordinate, superior, stretching in a long line of heirarchy and command to either side in a line infinitely long. At the top, shining and white and beyond all things, is her Queen.
Yes.
Queen.
For the Queen.
Teyla sees herself walking along Atlantis's familiar hallways, the body enclosing her mind uncomfortable, alien, disturbingly familiar.
She wakes with a start and a cut-off scream, her body bathed in sweat. The blankes tangle around her legs as she stumbles to the mirror on the side wall, peers deep into her own reflection and recoils in horror. She is nothing, she is a shell, a vessel, herself on the outside, but inside....inside...she is.....hollow. There is a wetness on her chest, and she looks down, the front of her loose sleeping gown soaked with blood. Teyla screams again, staggers back, one hand to her bloody, ruined chest...
...and is awake again, panting up at the familiar ceiling, the ebb and flow of Atlantis settling comfortably around her.
|
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
teyla_emmagen's journal
