and the walls kept tumbling down
in this city that we love
in this city that we love
She listens to his confession, quiet, unsure what to say. She wonders if she should be shocked, perhaps, or even angry; wondering why he might have chosen to leave his life behind. She does not, of course, know the depths of his life, his experiences. She is only a piece of it, a woman who came into his life when he was barely out of foalhood, who dreamed him into a wolf.
“Me too,” is all she says. And she is glad, even if it is perhaps selfish that she is glad, if living was not his original wish. She is glad because he is warm and smells familiar, and she has never met someone like him, has never had her heart beat in this particular way, fearful and flourishing all at once.
She wants, of course, to fix it, to find some way to ameliorate things. She granted a wish of his, once, dreamed them both into wolves, but given the circumstances, that is not such a dream that they should revisit.
“We could escape,” she offers. A strange choice of words, perhaps, but the more she experiments with the dreams, the more she understands the undercurrent of escapism that feeds her dreamscapes. She thinks, perhaps, that he could use the escape.
Or maybe she is wrong, and dreaming is too close to death for him to want to partake.
She waits, breath matching his, for his answer.
Irisa
tarnished x heartworm
@[brigade] feel free to powerplay them going a'dreaming or he can be like "girl i just died no THANK you" imma have fun either way <3