SLEEPING BEAUTIES: DREAM LOG

[yourkeepers]

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.

Comments

[peafowl]

The pink peacock bemusedly picks up the dead rabbit and holds it in both hands. The blue peacock smirks at the librarian's words.

"No, darling, the Keeper's nothing," he says. "Not compared to them. He collects things. They ... collect food."

He glances back at the stone wolf.

"Why would you think the wolves were after us?" he says.

[ovidscholar]

He hesitates.

"It seems the sort of thing wolves would do."

They're a little lost, now, wound up in the ever-shifting boundary between his dream and theirs. Dingy snow piles up on the smooth cobblestone, stains the stuccoed houses.

[peafowl]

The twins look at the falling snow with sudden, wretched nostalgia that they cannot anchor to a context. The blue peacock shivers and his twin embraces him, laying her head on his shoulder for a brief moment.

"Wolves," she says, with some distaste. "Shit, we don't know nothing about wolves. We're city kids."