01-21-2018, 09:37 PM
Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls.
Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost.
Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost.
Is this where you always come to dream?
"No matter where I go, the dreams follow." As of late, this has been the truth. Before now, before the change, my dreams were insignificant. Forgettable. A hazy sort of memory that left me quite the same as when they found me. Now, the dreams are more insistent. I am the host, possessed by dreams that are not my own.
He doesn't need something special. My eyes cannot leave him, over-dilated pupils transfixed on what little of him their is, in comparison to the everything that surrounds us. Yes, there is an arcane quality to our situation, a deadness in my eyes that I see reflected in his, too. I step closer. There's worlds between us.
"I... Could show you," I breathe, barely even knowing what I speak. My eyes travel to his sunlight-spine, dampened now in shadows. The sturdiness of his bones, the way his smile leaves me knowing that there's more - and yet far, far less. My own smile dwindles, but the expression left in its place is not unwelcome.
I want to take him with me.
To see if I can.
"It's not always been here," comes my answer. "Your home, I mean. The lands - changed." He is old enough to remember, though when I step closer and press my lips to his throat, he tastes young.
I remove myself, but our proximity is his to dictate. Our reality - our level of consciousness - our mindless travellings --
His.
"No matter where I go, the dreams follow." As of late, this has been the truth. Before now, before the change, my dreams were insignificant. Forgettable. A hazy sort of memory that left me quite the same as when they found me. Now, the dreams are more insistent. I am the host, possessed by dreams that are not my own.
He doesn't need something special. My eyes cannot leave him, over-dilated pupils transfixed on what little of him their is, in comparison to the everything that surrounds us. Yes, there is an arcane quality to our situation, a deadness in my eyes that I see reflected in his, too. I step closer. There's worlds between us.
"I... Could show you," I breathe, barely even knowing what I speak. My eyes travel to his sunlight-spine, dampened now in shadows. The sturdiness of his bones, the way his smile leaves me knowing that there's more - and yet far, far less. My own smile dwindles, but the expression left in its place is not unwelcome.
I want to take him with me.
To see if I can.
"It's not always been here," comes my answer. "Your home, I mean. The lands - changed." He is old enough to remember, though when I step closer and press my lips to his throat, he tastes young.
I remove myself, but our proximity is his to dictate. Our reality - our level of consciousness - our mindless travellings --
His.
Kagerus
sweet nothing
@[rapt]
dreamweaver