[open] distance makes the heart grow fonder - anyone

[abysm]

The dream-horns atop his head are strange; their weight is foreign to him but not burdensome. He thinks he could get used to them, just like his mother did. She dreamt hers’ into existence then kept them, made them as real as the bones beneath her painted skin. 

He wonders - vaguely, briefly - if he can do that too, but not these curved-back horns of hers that he too sports. He’d pick something else; something much more majestic like a pair of lofty elk antlers to spread above his head.

Then again, he’s just a plain old stallion that can’t do much besides manipulate some dreams. He’s okay with that though. Content to mimic her for the moment, as he continues to spy on her blithe cheer and lithe presence that aches like a bright spot of sunshine amidst the bland old meadow.

She was almost too bright to behold; carefree and laughing in her greeting before the flowers capture her attention again. He knows he’s not forgotten - impossible! Abysm leaves impressions, sometimes unbeknownst to others, but he does like a dark stain in the corner of their dreams. He follows her gaze to the flowers, finding them perfunctorily boring in comparison to her.

So he lies;

“Quite beautiful! I’ve only seen that color in dreams before.” and he’s smooth and charming, so good at the deceit that spills from his lips though he has no intention of breaking her beautiful happiness. He just wants to taste it, like amaranth of the gods - a little sip, not enough to steal the brightness from her, but enough for a boy of nothingness and the abyss to know what light tastes like.

Sky and sunshine; that’s all he can think of as she looks at him again. He’s almost startled, almost loses the dream-antlers that match her own. “Reem,” he echoes haphazardly, unable to look away from her - she’s blinding! It is just enough to dazzle him, for a moment in time, but never enough to chase away the navy and ivory that have twined so deeply around the core of his being.

“I’m Abysm,” he counters in a dark deep rumble. The champagne-and-foam stallion almost adds that he could dream her an entire world of these flowers and more… not yet - the time isn’t right to tempt her and then taste her boundless joy.

@[Reem]