[open] I'm comming home...(Open)

[irisa]

and the walls kept tumbling down
in this city that we love

Home is a strange word because what Irisa thinks of as home is not a real place. She was bogged in the dream-place, she grew up on the fantasy, on birds colored like rainbows as large as she was; on rivers made of diamonds; on trees bearing sparkling fruit that burst over the tongue.
She knows, now, that these are – were – dreams, creations made by her mother (and ah, her gut twists at the thought of her mother, a strangely broken, piteous woman) and foisted upon Irisa without her knowledge or consent.
She knows this, knows logically that this world now is the real one – isn’t it? – but when she thinks of home she still thinks of that dream-place.

The girl tells her name – Imke.
“Irisa,” she responds in kind. She pulls herself out of thoughts of home and into the now, where she stands near a girl with pink mane, a girl who is real.
“I…” she begins, and realizes she doesn’t know the name of the land she walks on. The name Imke offers – Beqanna – sounds familiar, but she couldn’t say for certain that’s where they are.
She’s spent far too much time in dreams to be entirely comfortable or confident with reality.
“I don’t know,” she confesses finally, “I came from….somewhere else.”
Came from dreams and madness, she wants to say, but even lacking social graces Irisa knows not to say that.
So, she focuses on the sopping girl, who is strange but still likely knows more than Irisa.
“Where did you come from?”

Irisa

tarnished x heartworm