"Oh." It's a breath behind the mask, and it's a prayer, and it's a smile.
She can understand this. This is what her body always wants to do, and what she keeps it from doing.
You close your eyes and you let go and you fade, to colors and mist and shapes and just barely solid at all, and then you open your eyes.
And it's just a moment, and it's perfect, to get from heavy and clunky and solid to this state that's so scary and so right.
It's just as easy as ever to hug Dream, though, tightly, with a wide smile. She can't quite talk, not like this, but that doesn't matter with her uncle.
He hugs her in return, and kisses her hair before turning her loose to lose herself in the dance for as long as she wants.
Little versions of the beings use the hems of Dream's robes (or the folds in his "wings") to play peek-a-boo with Kitty, in flips and turns in the air.
It is good, and she feels good, and this surprises her, a little, bringing a startled laugh, because she hasn't since before.
But right now it doesn't hurt to think about it.
It will, later. It will for years.
But now it's just a part of the past, because here she must rise onto her toes, and here she must spin at just the right speed, and you can't worry about anything when your body is sharing pure joy.
Mathematics may be the universal language, but dance is too, in a different dialect.
ring around the rosey...
And it's simple, for a moment, too, just holding hands and moving in a circle, and it's the childish joy of look what we can do instead of the adult pride in a pirouette perfectly executed.
This is why she dances. This is why she breathes. And this is why she fights. This moment, and the next, and the one after that.
Even if they can't give what you need, they give what they can.
And sometimes it turns out to be what you needed, anyway, and never knew.
Once upon a time, she whispers without sound to the small being in her arms, is right now, isn't it?
He--she--it--they--doesn't/don't understand, not really, but laughs with her anyway.
The dance goes on.
The dance always goes on.
And she withdraws, finally, with things like hugs and things like kisses and promises that aren't spoken but are still there, to not forget, and Kitty looks at her uncle before throwing her arms around him again, density increasing and going back to being normal and human and heavy.
She's still laughing, and the silence shifts slowly to sound as she switches from almost mist to flesh and blood, and
she's home.
Not because of the planet she's on, or the dancing, but because for the moment, she can deal with what is, and not wish for what was. Any things that were.
She can understand this. This is what her body always wants to do, and what she keeps it from doing.
You close your eyes and you let go and you fade, to colors and mist and shapes and just barely solid at all, and then you open your eyes.
And it's just a moment, and it's perfect, to get from heavy and clunky and solid to this state that's so scary and so right.
It's just as easy as ever to hug Dream, though, tightly, with a wide smile. She can't quite talk, not like this, but that doesn't matter with her uncle.
"Thank you."
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He hugs her in return, and kisses her hair before turning her loose to lose herself in the dance for as long as she wants.
Little versions of the beings use the hems of Dream's robes (or the folds in his "wings") to play peek-a-boo with Kitty, in flips and turns in the air.
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One two three, one two three.
She doesn't quite know their dance, and they don't know hers, but they manage to find something in between.
One
(Edmund's back to her, tense)
two
(the school filled with refugees and soldiers)
three
(peace)
and she smiles and laughs without a sound.
Heaven has to be like this. She's more there one moment and less the next, and it's perfect.
Every moment she's not phased she feels heavy. Solids are limiting.
This is like the world's slid off her back, and she twirls and dips and bends and all of it--life and love and worry and fear--fades away.
There is the dance.
There are her partners.
There is Kitty.
And it's all that matters for the moment.
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Beings swirl around him, communicating silently, and he grants what he may grant and explains what he may explain, and mostly?
Mostly he watches Kitty, because she is his niece and she is beautiful when she smiles.
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It is good, and she feels good, and this surprises her, a little, bringing a startled laugh, because she hasn't since before.
But right now it doesn't hurt to think about it.
It will, later. It will for years.
But now it's just a part of the past, because here she must rise onto her toes, and here she must spin at just the right speed, and you can't worry about anything when your body is sharing pure joy.
Mathematics may be the universal language, but dance is too, in a different dialect.
ring around the rosey...
And it's simple, for a moment, too, just holding hands and moving in a circle, and it's the childish joy of look what we can do instead of the adult pride in a pirouette perfectly executed.
This is why she dances. This is why she breathes. And this is why she fights. This moment, and the next, and the one after that.
Because you have to, it's so very precious.
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And if she can find the time, she can come back. Whenever she needs, just by asking.
Her uncle can't give her the world she deserves, but she can borrow this one.
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Even if they can't give what you need, they give what they can.
And sometimes it turns out to be what you needed, anyway, and never knew.
Once upon a time, she whispers without sound to the small being in her arms, is right now, isn't it?
He--she--it--they--doesn't/don't understand, not really, but laughs with her anyway.
The dance goes on.
The dance always goes on.
And she withdraws, finally, with things like hugs and things like kisses and promises that aren't spoken but are still there, to not forget, and Kitty looks at her uncle before throwing her arms around him again, density increasing and going back to being normal and human and heavy.
She's still laughing, and the silence shifts slowly to sound as she switches from almost mist to flesh and blood, and
she's home.
Not because of the planet she's on, or the dancing, but because for the moment, she can deal with what is, and not wish for what was. Any things that were.
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