elio
Elio finds himself in the kind of peaceful dream that aids an even more peaceful sleep. On the outside, he is curled and small, head laying on a pillowed gathering of moss, stomach rising and falling with level breathes.
It is so rare he gets a quiet dream, so rare that when he finds one, even his dream self knows how special it is.
A dream not plagued by Wolfbane, or strangers.
At least, that's what he thinks.
There's a warm, glowy sun where his mind wanders. He feels weightless, untouch, so peaceful that it nearly aches. A smile, big and unencumbered and maybe dangerous, lifts his handsome face into crinkles. His appearance matches the rest of the world: gold, and more gold, and such a dazzling flash of crimson.
White clouds accentuate his angelic fluster. He bounces from one cluster to the other, wings outspread to fall into the occasional glide. All around him the clouds pillow his body, so close that he nearly misses the murmured hello.
Elio stops, settling on a cloud firmer in this dream world than it will ever be in real life, finding himself facing a horned woman.
"Hello," he says back, head tilting in such a way that might indicate confusion. "Are you . . . ?" He thinks it strange, that his mind conjured this stranger. One that doesn't speak of a foreboding future or chase him down in a hunt.
"I don't feel like I made you," Elio finally settles on, turning his head to a straight angle.
i don't think i could stand to bewhere you don't see me
@[Catcher]