(no subject)
Sleep, perchance to dream
To dream of what?
Many things, kings and queens. {Another realm.}
What find you there?
Many things foul and fair.
It's said that dreams are a reflection {only a mirror} of the soul {as twisted as you}. Dreams are another world. Another place to get lost. Another place to be found. Another place to Open Your Eyes or lose your sight forever. Sometimes when Kaye falls asleep that is what she sees. Like tangled prophecies {Discord follows, said the Thistlewitch}, like pretty baubles on a christmas tree.
I dream in COLOR now.
Things become clearer one by one as the landscape unfolds before her sleeping eyes. First there is only red, not unlike the roses of her last surreal dream, not unlike the color of her hands as she looks down at them. The landscape deepens. Tall savannah like trees stretch out beside her and Kaye takes a shaky step forward, not sure what land her booted feet would reveal. A flash of silver, long legs, lithe figure; tilted, horizontal. He is lying in a field of crimson; she runs towards him like the wind is chasing her. She can feel it whip at her back like the lash of a displeased master.
He is lying in a field of strawberries and she kneels to look at him. Pewter strands of silken hair tangle with the plant until she can't be sure if the strawberries are chained or not, everything blurs into one. There is hair all over his face, she's terrified. If she moves it, will he even be alive? He's dead to her now anyway. Kaye reaches out and is surprised to see her fingers tremble; it's only a dream, right? She smoothes the tresses from his face, revealing the features one by one. Lashes as silver as a pin, crescented on pale sunken cheeks. He has perfect lips and part of her still wants to kiss them; to feel breathless and wild as the summer sun on a stream.
"Roiben"
He opens his eyes and they are ebony black. She can see herself reflected in the deep pool of them and suddenly she thinks of how he left her. His movement is the slow clockwork of a robot as he ghosts his fingers against her neck, when they turn hard, squeezing, she staggers backwards to her feet. He explodes in a whirl of feathers.
"Huh..."
Funny, how even here she can feel completely confused.
She is wearing a silken dress. Her Tithe dress. {You are not the sacrifice, Little Pixie}
"K-kkkkkkkkaye." A voice echoes, repeating in a flurry of whispers. It's soft as death, too quiet to identify. She spins, caught between fear and disbelief. The lake swallows up the ground behind her and she catches a flash of red hair at the corner. No, not red. Not Janet. Orange. Strawberry blonde.
Lillies on a coffin. Broken dreams. There are worse things than dying.
For a second she can't breathe and then she is diving, water forcing itself up her nose and into her lungs. She dives just in time to see the Kelpie drag Ichigo under, mouth eternally open in a horrified scream.
To dream of what?
Many things, kings and queens. {Another realm.}
What find you there?
Many things foul and fair.
It's said that dreams are a reflection {only a mirror} of the soul {as twisted as you}. Dreams are another world. Another place to get lost. Another place to be found. Another place to Open Your Eyes or lose your sight forever. Sometimes when Kaye falls asleep that is what she sees. Like tangled prophecies {Discord follows, said the Thistlewitch}, like pretty baubles on a christmas tree.
I dream in COLOR now.
Things become clearer one by one as the landscape unfolds before her sleeping eyes. First there is only red, not unlike the roses of her last surreal dream, not unlike the color of her hands as she looks down at them. The landscape deepens. Tall savannah like trees stretch out beside her and Kaye takes a shaky step forward, not sure what land her booted feet would reveal. A flash of silver, long legs, lithe figure; tilted, horizontal. He is lying in a field of crimson; she runs towards him like the wind is chasing her. She can feel it whip at her back like the lash of a displeased master.
He is lying in a field of strawberries and she kneels to look at him. Pewter strands of silken hair tangle with the plant until she can't be sure if the strawberries are chained or not, everything blurs into one. There is hair all over his face, she's terrified. If she moves it, will he even be alive? He's dead to her now anyway. Kaye reaches out and is surprised to see her fingers tremble; it's only a dream, right? She smoothes the tresses from his face, revealing the features one by one. Lashes as silver as a pin, crescented on pale sunken cheeks. He has perfect lips and part of her still wants to kiss them; to feel breathless and wild as the summer sun on a stream.
"Roiben"
He opens his eyes and they are ebony black. She can see herself reflected in the deep pool of them and suddenly she thinks of how he left her. His movement is the slow clockwork of a robot as he ghosts his fingers against her neck, when they turn hard, squeezing, she staggers backwards to her feet. He explodes in a whirl of feathers.
"Huh..."
Funny, how even here she can feel completely confused.
She is wearing a silken dress. Her Tithe dress. {You are not the sacrifice, Little Pixie}
"K-kkkkkkkkaye." A voice echoes, repeating in a flurry of whispers. It's soft as death, too quiet to identify. She spins, caught between fear and disbelief. The lake swallows up the ground behind her and she catches a flash of red hair at the corner. No, not red. Not Janet. Orange. Strawberry blonde.
Lillies on a coffin. Broken dreams. There are worse things than dying.
For a second she can't breathe and then she is diving, water forcing itself up her nose and into her lungs. She dives just in time to see the Kelpie drag Ichigo under, mouth eternally open in a horrified scream.