Changed Mods (
yourkeepers) wrote in
thechanged2013-09-09 01:01 pm
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SLEEPING BEAUTIES: DREAM LOG
Bewitched by the thorn's touch, you have been ensnared in the deepest of sleep. Fortunately for you, the world of Faerie doesn't end with the waking.
The world of your dreams is brighter now, more clear than you've ever witnessed it. You've been it before, you think, there fragments of yourself become reality. But now you are somehow more lucid in its presence, and it's more real - something you can reach out and touch.
You find yourself in this world, and you are not alone. Your dreams and those of other join at the edges, pulling into each other along similar threads.
And you are watched by something even greater.
The world of your dreams is brighter now, more clear than you've ever witnessed it. You've been it before, you think, there fragments of yourself become reality. But now you are somehow more lucid in its presence, and it's more real - something you can reach out and touch.
You find yourself in this world, and you are not alone. Your dreams and those of other join at the edges, pulling into each other along similar threads.
And you are watched by something even greater.
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(Though, really, he's also not sure if he'd really mind staying here. He likes it much better than the gardens, and the company is better.)
At her obvious spark of intrigue, the Servant spares a glance to the storm clouds. "I'd think so," he answers after a moment of thought. "I suppose it's more that— I feel as if it belongs with me?"
The words are out of his mouth before he really thinks better of them. He's not sure if he regrets saying them, exactly, but there's a shade of embarrassment that creeps up on him afterwards. Hiding his emotions isn't exactly his strong front, but he tries to cover for the sheepishness that becomes obvious on his face. "What about you?" She had seemed rather happy to stumble upon his dream home, after all.
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"You're welcome here whenever you like," he invites, trying to sound more confident about the offer than he really feels. "Though I'm not certain I can call up a whole storm— just rain."
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"Do you suppose so?" he returns, and it's hard to keep the slight eagerness out of his voice. Having more control over a place like this has a certain allure to it; he thinks he'd like to learn how to do more, especially if it does turn out that he's going to be here for a while. "How would I go about— practising that, here?"
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"Just...imagining, is a good place to start. Anything you think of can potentially be here, if you believe in it enough." She spins around on a bare foot, looking up at the sky. Her smile broadens. "I could show you."
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"If you could, ma'am," he starts, a faintly-restrained sort of enthusiasm in his words, "I'd be very grateful."
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"Well...say I should want to fly," she begins, and closes her eyes. Suddenly the mist around her spreads and forms into a set of large, angelic wings that glisten even in the rain. With one graceful stroke, she lifts into the air with a laugh, looking down at him.
"See?"
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Though he tries to rearrange his expression into something a bit politer and more subdued, there's still no hiding that he's impressed with the results. Especially as the first words out of his mouth end up being: "That's brilliant."
His gaze travels out along the span of the wings. "And you just imagine it?"
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"It would be wonderful to learn how," he states, enthusiasm a reserved but steady undercurrent in the words. He really does like it here, and he's certain that he would like it even more if he could change it just so, reaffirm that this place is, indeed, his.
He doesn't know if he's ever going to wake, but even if he doesn't, this young lady sounds as if has other places that she has been to. Which probably meant places that she still needed to go to, as well. How to go about finding her again after that?
Eventually, he ventures, "Is there any name I can call you by? If— if we're to meet again, perhaps— it seems appropriate to have something to call you." Again, he stumbles over the words; it feels unreasonably strange to admit, even indirectly, that he'd like to see her again, but it's the truth. He wants to learn how to change this world, and it seems like she can teach him. It would be a shame to lose good company.
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"My name is Ruby," she says. "This is for you." She opens her hand, and there is a raindrop shaped ruby sitting in her palm. "If you keep this in your dreams, I'll be able to find you, whenever you end up here again."
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"Ruby," he repeats, tearing his eyes away from the gem to look at her again. "That's a lovely name."
He lets the ruby roll from between his thumb and forefinger into the palm of his hand, and then closes a fist over it in protection. "Thank you. I'll keep it safe."
But then, it catches his attention — she said "again". Which seems to imply that he'll wake up eventually, as he'd have to in order to go back to sleep and return here. So he'll be returning to the house, at some point. Didn't she say she used to live there, as well...? "When I wake up— ah, perhaps— I could try to find you?"