we're knocking knees in a traveling breeze; brigade

[irisa]

and the walls kept tumbling down
in this city that we love

 
He's died and come back, and she’s done nothing so astonishing, but she has grown stronger.
She’s had little to do but practice her strange ability. She’s learned to make her own dreamscapes, to change things in these worlds. It’s still harder – the default is still the dream-place she grew up in, her touchstone – but she can change it almost easily now, make it unrecognizable and entirely her own. She can make creatures, too, though she is wary of this – her mother is a cautionary tale of the allure of dream-things, and Irisa fears  that path.
Still, there have been times – indulgences – when she has dreamed things into being, because she is so often lonely. Mostly animals, other species, as if this is some sort of acceptable line.
 
It’s a lovely world, but she forces herself not to dwell in it overmuch. She stays in reality often, wanders Beqanna, even if there is little here for her – she still has not found her mother, or her sister, and there was little else in way  of family.
She thinks of him, of course, her friend (she wanted more, maybe, but she gives it no name, but she is comfortable with the word friend). But she had not found him, either.
Until today.
Until this night, when she sees a dark figure, the color inscrutable under the cover of night. But she does not need to see the color, because she knows the shape of him, she’s gazed upon it enough.
A wolf howls, as if in confirmation, and she remembers him as one of those creatures, running through  a dream land with her. It’s a fond memory, and one she often revisits.
“Brigade,” she says, her voice perhaps too loud in the quiet darkness, but she doesn’t care, moving toward him, suddenly so grateful for something that’s both familiar and real, so grateful that it’s him.
 

Irisa

tarnished x heartworm

@[brigade] consider this my reply to your any post...couldn't resist <3