:38:
[Dreamshare // Open]
[ooc: With apologies to Apple and to Smoke.]
Warm golden sunlight is flooding the room, and you're sitting with your elbows propped on a battered table, grinning so hard that it hurts your cheeks and trying not to laugh. There's a cup of hot tea cradled in your hands. You look around the table, and see familiar faces; young girls, talking, giggling, sipping their tea, stealing each other's cookies. Their little gray wings fan the air behind them, soft feathers rustling and whispering...
Suddenly the room falls silent. You turn and look, and see Apple, sitting at the end of the table with a cup of tea like everybody else and a big smile on his sweet face.
He doesn't see it at first, the way they're all looking at him, drawing away from him in horror. He doesn't know that he's bleeding, red blood spreading from the roots of his wings all down the back of his white newborn smock. His smile falters as he looks around at the shocked faces, and you want to jump up and shout at them all that this isn't right! - but his wings are black - black - black -
- and growing, spreading up and out, until they blot out the sunlight and the warm room and cover everything and become a dark sky overhead with clouds scudding like red stains between the stars. You know this dream, but this time you're running, pushed this way and that by the blustering wind, running down the narrow stony path while gravel crunches under your feet.
You can see a small figure, far away, standing on the path under the red light of the moon. The wind whips his smock around him - white cloth and black feathers - but no matter how fast or long you run, he never gets any closer. Is it him? His hair looks like long braids, lashing around him, and his feathers are mottled black and white. You slow to a stop, squinting into the wind and the darkness, and realize that it's not Apple at all -
"Oi...!"
A man's voice, shouting. You whirl around, startled, and blunder right into a warm pair of arms that enfold you, smelling like tobacco smoke and leather and a hint of wine. You can't see his face in the sudden darkness, but his voice throbs in the air all around you, echoing from everywhere at once.
"I'm with with you I'm you..."
"I can't reach her, I can't...!" Your voice is frantic, pleading, smeared like paint.
"Shh..."
Warm lips press a kiss to your upturned brow - and you shudder once, mouth gaping open in a gasp of shock, as your wings drop off like dead leaves.
[ooc: With apologies to Apple and to Smoke.]
Warm golden sunlight is flooding the room, and you're sitting with your elbows propped on a battered table, grinning so hard that it hurts your cheeks and trying not to laugh. There's a cup of hot tea cradled in your hands. You look around the table, and see familiar faces; young girls, talking, giggling, sipping their tea, stealing each other's cookies. Their little gray wings fan the air behind them, soft feathers rustling and whispering...
Suddenly the room falls silent. You turn and look, and see Apple, sitting at the end of the table with a cup of tea like everybody else and a big smile on his sweet face.
He doesn't see it at first, the way they're all looking at him, drawing away from him in horror. He doesn't know that he's bleeding, red blood spreading from the roots of his wings all down the back of his white newborn smock. His smile falters as he looks around at the shocked faces, and you want to jump up and shout at them all that this isn't right! - but his wings are black - black - black -
- and growing, spreading up and out, until they blot out the sunlight and the warm room and cover everything and become a dark sky overhead with clouds scudding like red stains between the stars. You know this dream, but this time you're running, pushed this way and that by the blustering wind, running down the narrow stony path while gravel crunches under your feet.
You can see a small figure, far away, standing on the path under the red light of the moon. The wind whips his smock around him - white cloth and black feathers - but no matter how fast or long you run, he never gets any closer. Is it him? His hair looks like long braids, lashing around him, and his feathers are mottled black and white. You slow to a stop, squinting into the wind and the darkness, and realize that it's not Apple at all -
"Oi...!"
A man's voice, shouting. You whirl around, startled, and blunder right into a warm pair of arms that enfold you, smelling like tobacco smoke and leather and a hint of wine. You can't see his face in the sudden darkness, but his voice throbs in the air all around you, echoing from everywhere at once.
"I'm with with you I'm you..."
"I can't reach her, I can't...!" Your voice is frantic, pleading, smeared like paint.
"Shh..."
Warm lips press a kiss to your upturned brow - and you shudder once, mouth gaping open in a gasp of shock, as your wings drop off like dead leaves.