He? He is awake. Doing things that he always has done for centuries. Not so much scheming, not so soon after yet another humiliating defeat. But he is reading, he is writing, he is researching.
But despite this, she is not alone inside this bauble. There's something dwelling within its starry, indigo glass and golden frame. It's hard to place what it is precisely, since, the more you look at it, the less certain you are of its identity. Sometimes it's a star, sometimes it's a mist, sometimes it's both, sometimes it's neither.
It's a soul, and it thrums with a unique song as it floats around the room, drifting lazily like a fish inside its tank.
She looks at it with wonder, pondering how much is reality and how much is her subconscious mind playing tricks on her. It's lovely to watch, and yet at the same time she feels weirdly ashamed of her...voyeurism. Like she has no right to see this lazy 'fish'. But looked at another way, he's seeing more of her like this because of his connection to her Token. Turnabout is only fair, after all.
Lumindra snuggles down further into her soft bed, humming along with that unique song, adding her own counterpoints and harmonies.
The little light (and it is very little, rarely growing any larger than a fist in all its nebulous forms) seems content, undisturbed by Lumindra's presence. Why should it? It's contained by something that is her; it could very well be she's gone entirely without it's notice.
It's an hour, maybe a bit more, before that light stops its drifting, staying still in one place in the middle of this room that isn't really a room. And slowly, around it, a tall, dark, and familiar figure fades in. His eyes are closed, but once he's fully materialized, they open.
"...A dream?" It's sort of a question, not really directed at anyone; not himself, not the Space Faerie. Simply his assessment of what this setting he's found himself to be in is.
"Something like that," she agrees amiably. The light in their little "room" is soft and blue and purple and red, nothing at all like the light that was there when he was truly trapped inside.
"This is a surprise," she adds, almost as an afterthought. Time moves strangely now, as in all proper dreams. She cannot tell how much time has passed between her first sentence and the second.
Comments 16
But despite this, she is not alone inside this bauble. There's something dwelling within its starry, indigo glass and golden frame. It's hard to place what it is precisely, since, the more you look at it, the less certain you are of its identity. Sometimes it's a star, sometimes it's a mist, sometimes it's both, sometimes it's neither.
It's a soul, and it thrums with a unique song as it floats around the room, drifting lazily like a fish inside its tank.
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Lumindra snuggles down further into her soft bed, humming along with that unique song, adding her own counterpoints and harmonies.
This is nice. Maybe he'll join her here later.
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It's an hour, maybe a bit more, before that light stops its drifting, staying still in one place in the middle of this room that isn't really a room. And slowly, around it, a tall, dark, and familiar figure fades in. His eyes are closed, but once he's fully materialized, they open.
"...A dream?" It's sort of a question, not really directed at anyone; not himself, not the Space Faerie. Simply his assessment of what this setting he's found himself to be in is.
Reply
"This is a surprise," she adds, almost as an afterthought. Time moves strangely now, as in all proper dreams. She cannot tell how much time has passed between her first sentence and the second.
She does look very comfortable and content.
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