06-21-2020, 05:27 PM
Of darkest nights and starry skies - she dreams.
She dreams of all things pleasant and good; of glittering glass waters, and thick emerald meadows; of brilliant, dancing fireflies and the willow fronds that glow with their ethereal light. She dreams of the faces and people she loves, and her contentment in knowing that they are out there somewhere, sleeping and beautifully lost in the same world that she willingly gives herself to time and time again.
But there was one in particular that she hadn’t the pleasure of finding succumbed to the dreamscape, and the weaver selfishly sets her mind to reach for them. And like a pearly, beaming string, the tether is illuminated against the blooming grass. Pausing suddenly in hesitation, the painted maiden considers the best way to get there and with a wispy twist of her lips, a mischievous smile blooms.
Instead of the scrubby gray unicorn, a crimson amphithere dragon stretched her leathery wings, catching the shimmer of the moon against her silver dusted scales. Her body - long and muscular like her serpentine heritage - coiled beneath her weight, and with a powerful heave, became airborne.
It doesn’t take long to find him, standing amidst the sands of Ischia’s shore. But she hesitates when she recognizes the pale jeweled silhouette, hovering over the crystalline sea and trying to grasp what exactly it was that she was bearing witness to, watching as his body was battered and tossed by the aggravation of warped sands.
A swooping flash of red draws her attention, and her chest tightens at the sound of the dream raptor’s voice.
What was that about? But his quip in response to the chastising cuts through the sudden foggy murk in her head, and her attention refocuses onto the trouble stallion beneath her.
The dream walker flies to him, stopping to settle near him without touching the crumbling earth below the drake’s hooves. This was his dream, and she felt less compelled to alter it than she would her own; there was often meaning behind such tumult, and he would have to find the power to try to change it himself.
With her help, of course.
“Fly Tana,” she says into his mind, her strange, slitted eyes begging him to return her gaze, “You don’t need wings here. You have control.”
CATCHER
caught in the afterglow
@[Santana]
