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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    you should see the things we do; elio
    #1
    Somewhere along the line her dreams had shifted.


    It was her own doing; she’d given control away, let her mind freely wander after the sun fell beyond the mountains.  It had all been for the sake of curiosity, to see what fantastical twists and turns were left unimagined.  For all the light she had sparked and loved, there were equally as dark and confusing things that came to be when the curtains parted.  They were of the most explainable kinds of things, they were mysterious, and they were deep - they were incredible.


    Catcher wanted more.


    Tonight in the black water, her phantasmal body glowed underwhelmingly compared to the angler fish that glided lazily past.  Every step she takes is heavy but the sand remains settled, moving as easily through the trenches as she would the flowers of the meadow.  There is a thrum beneath her from the living earth, it’s beat paced and steady like the beat she feels in her own chest.  Despite the glow she cannot see in the darkness, she can only move with the currents the ocean offers her.  And for a moment she knows peace in blind faith.


    When she closes her eyes and smiles, there is a tug between her shoulder blades.  It’s soft at first, then rougher.  And like a blade of grass plucked from the ground, she is sent backward with a snap.  It doesn’t take long, just a second maybe, until she blinks cautiously.  The brightness of the sun is harsh against her unadjusted eyes, making them tear up with a grimace as she begins to look around her.  


    It feels soft and solid under her hooves and around her the winds churn playfully.  A fluffy cloud passes to her right, and she steps towards it with a delicate tilt of her horned crown.  When she finally looks down, she laughs in amusement, surprised to find that she stood upon a cloud just as similar.


    “Interesting place,” she mused, wondering if clouds were like the stars, and if they were just as eager to please.  But right now she cannot build or create, because a lingering presence makes it clear that she is not alone.  Unable to see clearly just yet, she receives them with a smiling, “Hello.”


    @[Elio]
    Reply
    #2

    elio

    Elio finds himself in the kind of peaceful dream that aids an even more peaceful sleep. On the outside, he is curled and small, head laying on a pillowed gathering of moss, stomach rising and falling with level breathes.

    It is so rare he gets a quiet dream, so rare that when he finds one, even his dream self knows how special it is.

    A dream not plagued by Wolfbane, or strangers.

    At least, that's what he thinks.

    There's a warm, glowy sun where his mind wanders. He feels weightless, untouch, so peaceful that it nearly aches. A smile, big and unencumbered and maybe dangerous, lifts his handsome face into crinkles. His appearance matches the rest of the world: gold, and more gold, and such a dazzling flash of crimson.

    White clouds accentuate his angelic fluster. He bounces from one cluster to the other, wings outspread to fall into the occasional glide. All around him the clouds pillow his body, so close that he nearly misses the murmured hello.

    Elio stops, settling on a cloud firmer in this dream world than it will ever be in real life, finding himself facing a horned woman.

    "Hello," he says back, head tilting in such a way that might indicate confusion. "Are you . . . ?" He thinks it strange, that his mind conjured this stranger. One that doesn't speak of a foreboding future or chase him down in a hunt.

    "I don't feel like I made you," Elio finally settles on, turning his head to a straight angle.

    i don't think i could stand to be
    where you don't see me



    @[Catcher]
    Reply
    #3


    Hello, the dreamer replies, and her smile grows wider.

    While they’re motionless and their world is still, the weaver’s mind backtracks to a different perspective, replaying the motions of the golden boy skipping from cloud to cloud, and gliding in places between leaps.  There is something in the way that he moves through the sky - something that exudes the thrill of simple pleasure and contentment.  It’s contagious apparently because as her mind’s eye switches and tunnels back to the present, there’s nothing more that she wants than to experience that same feeling.

    Catcher laughs giddily, maybe even a bit stupidly as her head swivels back to studiously craft an impossibly airy set of wings fashioned from the cloud she stood atop.  Looking back to the stranger, her gray eyes brightened.

    “You didn’t,” she remarked honestly, leaping forward with ethereal wings outstretched, letting the playful wind buoy her long enough to alight directly next to him.  “I don’t think you did anyway.  But I did get pulled here from somewhere else somehow.”

    Now that she was closer, the gold of his skin burned more brightly, intensely against the stark white and crisp blue that held them.  It was almost as though he was the center of this place, and everything else was just spinning around him.  “You’re just like the sun,” she said delicately, leaning carefully towards him half expecting that he’d radiate heat as devastatingly brilliant as the burning star did.  “Did you know that?”
     
    CATCHER
    caught in the afterglow



    @[elio]
    Reply
    #4

    elio

    They are quite the sight, the worn man and the dream weaver. Coupled together, stark gray and bright gold up against such soft white: they truly look like angels, God's glory finding a rare moment of leisure. Elio feels the all knowing peace of such beings, closing his eyes and relishing the surreal, peaceful feeling standing next Catcher has brought him.

    "Wow," Lio says in wonderment, a boyish smile coloring his face in hues of curiosity and delight. The wings the stranger builds paired with her confirmation that she is not of his mind sends his mind tumbling into endless possibilities. Was it his mind that called her here? And if so, is she some answer to a subconscious cry?

    Elio's rabbit-hole is quickly interrupted by Catcher's gentle landing next to him and for that he is grateful. He tilts his head just the slightest, enough to watch her lean closer. He smiles, remembering how Nashua dubbed him Fire Wing, and nods.

    "Not quite the sun, no, but -" he pauses, the smile waning as he remembers the disasters that followed Nashua naming him. "Flame. I've been told I look like fire. The sun is quite the compliment, though," Lio adds after recovering from the intrusive thought.

    "My name is Elio. What - and who - are you?"

    i don't think i could stand to be
    where you don't see me



    @[Catcher]
    [Image: elio-by-dozymare-ddo34i6.png]
    Reply
    #5

    “Are you positive you’re not?” the dreamweaver questioned.  
     
    The bright blue sky that encompassed them began to darken, and a million sparkling stars slowly burned through the vale of night, revealing their brilliance to the pair of on-lookers.  Galaxies shimmered as the last of lingering clouds pulled away, and orbs of color and their wispy rings spun lazily about them, as if they were the center of the universe.
     
    “The heavens seem to think you are.” 
     
    When she turns to look at him, wanting to see what curious reaction his face would give away, her chest tightens.  A memory of a different dream - chaotic and beautiful - makes her lighthearted joy crumble and an ache of dread pulls her lips into a shallow frown.  Would this night have the same ending?
     
    But Elio had already given her more of a connection than Firen had, evident in the boyish smile that had lit up his golden face.  There was hope here, she thinks.  And she smiles again when her turbulent gray eyes look to him, “You should try to move them.”
     
    “Just a who,” Catcher replies quietly, brushing her whiskered lips across the curve of his shoulder, hoping the gesture was enough to prove her real.  “My name’s Catcher.  Are your dreams always so enrapturing?”
     
    CATCHER
    caught in the afterglow




    @[Elio]
    Reply




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