03-11-2021, 11:48 PM
iridian
She knows he is different the moment the dreamscape bends to fit him. He makes ripples like her own mother does when she visits, like Iridian herself might if she possessed the ability to come and go, if she weren’t anchored here in death like a ghost. His presence can hardly go unnoticed - he is like another spider in the web instead of a fly, and she marvels at the way the dreamscape strengthens with his arrival. It is like he is a piece that has always been missing, and she is drawn to him just as readily as the sunshine that falls over his metallic body.
She is watching already, of course.
She is in all the fragments of dancing sunshine that tumble across the ground.
She is the brightening at the sound of his beautiful laughter.
Even in a world of dreams and make believe, he is the brightest thing she’s ever seen. Perhaps there were fish in some of the streams that came close, but she was completely certain that none of them had a green like this made of so many shining shades. She couldn’t even fathom the number of shades she would not know the names of.
When she is certain that he is not a nightmare, not something dark and unkind masquerading as kindness - that was happening to her more often now, as though something was poisoning the dreamscape - she pulls free of the sunshine to appear first as a silhouette of watery sunlight, then something more solid.
It is tempting to hold onto some of the shine so that she can be as bright as he is, but she does love even the plainness of her red and white skin, the shock of pale blue in the twists of her forelock. She smiles at him, soft and shy and only a little uncertain as she settles into the body she might’ve been born in. Her wings fold delicately against her ribs, the feathers whispering as they settle.
“Hello,” she says, and the words are as soft as the sunshine that seems to love him so much, as soft as the navy of her eyes like crushed flower petals, “I haven’t seen one of those before.” There is puzzlement on her delicate face and in those too-wide eyes as she leans down to take a smiling look at the small animal playing by his feet. “Do you have a name for it?” She of course means like how he is a horse and how the things in the sky are birds, and not like how she is Iridian. “Do they come from Tephra, or Hyaline?” She plucks the words from her memories, the only places she knows of where horses live outside the dreamscape.
She is watching already, of course.
She is in all the fragments of dancing sunshine that tumble across the ground.
She is the brightening at the sound of his beautiful laughter.
Even in a world of dreams and make believe, he is the brightest thing she’s ever seen. Perhaps there were fish in some of the streams that came close, but she was completely certain that none of them had a green like this made of so many shining shades. She couldn’t even fathom the number of shades she would not know the names of.
When she is certain that he is not a nightmare, not something dark and unkind masquerading as kindness - that was happening to her more often now, as though something was poisoning the dreamscape - she pulls free of the sunshine to appear first as a silhouette of watery sunlight, then something more solid.
It is tempting to hold onto some of the shine so that she can be as bright as he is, but she does love even the plainness of her red and white skin, the shock of pale blue in the twists of her forelock. She smiles at him, soft and shy and only a little uncertain as she settles into the body she might’ve been born in. Her wings fold delicately against her ribs, the feathers whispering as they settle.
“Hello,” she says, and the words are as soft as the sunshine that seems to love him so much, as soft as the navy of her eyes like crushed flower petals, “I haven’t seen one of those before.” There is puzzlement on her delicate face and in those too-wide eyes as she leans down to take a smiling look at the small animal playing by his feet. “Do you have a name for it?” She of course means like how he is a horse and how the things in the sky are birds, and not like how she is Iridian. “Do they come from Tephra, or Hyaline?” She plucks the words from her memories, the only places she knows of where horses live outside the dreamscape.
@[Anubias]