It feels familiar, the sundering of real to dream. But the subtle imprint of the original dreamer is not altogether familiar to her nor is it altogether foreign. It feels like father but hasn’t his brand of clinical coldness to it, which always felt like ducking your head under cold water, sharp and frigid. This felt more feminine, and a little reckless.
The pinto almost expected to find the familiar chasm of nothingness yawning before. Or stretching more like the rictus grin of death and ending. Instead, lightning splits the belly of a sky dark and grossly swollen with storm clouds. Chthonie looks up in admiration; her eyes dance along the storm’s underbelly as it lights up again and again.
“So beautiful…” falls the murmur from her lips before something else catches her eye in this unknown dreamscape. It is a unicorn, painted like her, being rugged along by its shadow in a marionette’s dance. To her, it looks both beautiful and painful, and she continues to watch. If she is moved beyond her staring, it doesn’t yet show.
Not until the tiny child lit up in the aftermath of a lightning strike and she instinctively moved in her direction, little more than a child herself. There are tears visible on the gilt cheeks and Chthonie has never seen tears before. She reaches out with her nose, not sure if she’ll lick it up to see how it tastes or if she’ll just wipe it away. Doesn’t matter, they’re interrupted by the dancer —
“Don’t I know you?” she blurts out, the small child forgotten as her own girlish face pinches in concentration. There is a feeling that rolls along her bones as the lightning does the belly of the storm raging above them, and she thinks it is recognition or blood calling to blood. Abysm had shown her each sibling (half or not) in the dreamscape, and she thinks she has memories of playing in the common places with her mother and someone else.
“Catcher?” comes the tremulous query as she catches a glimpse of the unicorn, certain this is her older sister.
@[Catcher] @[Aela] ❤️