[private] oh me oh my, i thought it was a dream... [star pony]

[Kagerus]

K

oh me oh my, i thought it was a dream...

"Yes," I answer simply, the ache of loss accentuated by my smile as I ponder her truthful statement, that Solace and I are two parts of one whole. "And I must find her." It's not something I need to say - that need is implicit in every fibre of my being - but I say it nonetheless, finding myself craving the connection which makes itself so readily available in the depths of Lilliana's eyes. Her willingness to see me and hear me, for who I really am and not for who I pretend to be when the world is watching, is warm. It's safe.

When she shyly asks to show me something, I only nod. The ease of sleep settles on me as I entrust the dreamscape in this young one's palms, watching with the utmost trust as its weight settles there, round and comfortable. Surprise evades me as I watch the scenery gradually change; so often we long for somewhere, someone, something. This longing, I've found, cannot be satiated; our needs as conscious creatures in this plane of existence mimic the universe, expanding infinitely. And yet we so often become stuck on the past.

Remembering what no longer belongs to us as though we might reach out and touch it.

Dreams, in that way, are so often nightmares with pretty faces.

But I stop myself from impressing this sad life-view upon my hopeful and sad companion, instead allowing her to flesh out her dream to the extent she sees fit, watching her reactions to what so clearly is home. The colours are like nothing I've seen in Beqanna, and the scents far sweeter than even our most abundant wildflower field. While Lilliana yearns and grieves simultaneously, I only admire, recognizing my privilege in having been brought somewhere so intimate, so sacred. Virtually no one else save myself will ever be able to see Lilliana as transparently as I do now, as vulnerably as I do now; and as she looks to me with reverence upon her simple and beautiful face, I hope that mine manages to convey the gratitude that I feel.

And, as though reciting a prayer (though by the end of this all she will be convinced of my humanity), she makes promises. Not explicitly, but their presence is implicit in her tone, in the loyalty that exudes from her porous aura, in the way her blue eyes grapple with mine: in search of connection. With sleep-heavy eyes, I accept her, once again settling that weightedness on to her shoulders. It's going to be okay, I impress upon her. We are both going to be okay again.

"Thank you, Lilliana." My muzzle finds the curve of her jaw before gently sliding down to her shoulder. "Your companionship will be all I require - a companionship that I will always cherish."

And, with that safe, weighted feeling leading both of our eyelids to close, the dreamscape fades, and a black, full-night's sleep carries us to morning.

@[lilliana]