06-07-2021, 07:23 PM
iridian
She is daydreaming when she feels that familiar tug on one of those strands that bind her to the dreamscape. It is not an uncommon occurrence, and she nearly ignores the sensation in favor of laying cradled on her back in the center of a giant wildflower where she can watch those strange storm clouds drifting up so impossibly high. But then it tugs again, and there is a note of intensity that she has come to associate with fear, a hurriedness that generally belongs to the adrenaline of a brewing nightmare.
Iridian rolls over, and her navy eyes are wide and luminous as she concentrates on where that vibrating strand inside her chest leads to. For a moment she becomes the dream around Mazikeen, becomes the dark and the fear and the fury, becomes the flashes of color right up until they settle for just a moment on a shade that startles a gasp out of her and makes her whisper, “Firion?” And then she is the forest around the mare who is a filly and a fox and a deer, is a comet falling too fast across the dark of this nightmare.
With a breath she severs the tendrils of the nightmare that tangle themselves around this mare. Like all dark it roils and rankles and tries to lash out, but Iridian is grown now and these things do not scare her as they used to. She touches the woman with warmth instead of skin, with compassion that has no body until suddenly they are both torn free of that place to land somewhere entirely else. Somewhere that is light and bright like a hazy summer day, with trees that whisper and dew that makes the grass around their legs damp and cool.
It is home, the only home Iridian has ever known.
“Hello.” She says, and her smile is something shy and bright and warm despite that delicate kind of uncertainty as she takes in this woman standing before her. “I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t think you were having a very nice time in that last dream so I brought you here instead.” She is so earnest in her honesty that it is almost laughable, all wide eyes and tentative smiles, the delicate rustle of chestnut and blue wings as they unfurl from her body like flower petals beneath the hazy sun. She does hope this woman doesn’t look up though, the tumult of gray clouds sitting higher than the sun is a disorienting kind of wrongness that might disturb her.
“My name is Iridian.” She smiles again, takes a few steps to the side on cloven hooves so that this mare can see beyond her to the forest of giant drooping flowers and the showers of shining golden pollen that drift from them like glitter when the wind whispers by. “There isn’t a name for this place,” she is thinking of Tephra and Hyaline when she says this, “but it’s my home, and you’re welcome to stay until you wake.”
Iridian rolls over, and her navy eyes are wide and luminous as she concentrates on where that vibrating strand inside her chest leads to. For a moment she becomes the dream around Mazikeen, becomes the dark and the fear and the fury, becomes the flashes of color right up until they settle for just a moment on a shade that startles a gasp out of her and makes her whisper, “Firion?” And then she is the forest around the mare who is a filly and a fox and a deer, is a comet falling too fast across the dark of this nightmare.
With a breath she severs the tendrils of the nightmare that tangle themselves around this mare. Like all dark it roils and rankles and tries to lash out, but Iridian is grown now and these things do not scare her as they used to. She touches the woman with warmth instead of skin, with compassion that has no body until suddenly they are both torn free of that place to land somewhere entirely else. Somewhere that is light and bright like a hazy summer day, with trees that whisper and dew that makes the grass around their legs damp and cool.
It is home, the only home Iridian has ever known.
“Hello.” She says, and her smile is something shy and bright and warm despite that delicate kind of uncertainty as she takes in this woman standing before her. “I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t think you were having a very nice time in that last dream so I brought you here instead.” She is so earnest in her honesty that it is almost laughable, all wide eyes and tentative smiles, the delicate rustle of chestnut and blue wings as they unfurl from her body like flower petals beneath the hazy sun. She does hope this woman doesn’t look up though, the tumult of gray clouds sitting higher than the sun is a disorienting kind of wrongness that might disturb her.
“My name is Iridian.” She smiles again, takes a few steps to the side on cloven hooves so that this mare can see beyond her to the forest of giant drooping flowers and the showers of shining golden pollen that drift from them like glitter when the wind whispers by. “There isn’t a name for this place,” she is thinking of Tephra and Hyaline when she says this, “but it’s my home, and you’re welcome to stay until you wake.”
@[Mazikeen]