☁ янσ∂є ☂ кαмєℓσт ♪ (indreams) wrote,
@ 2011-08-05 23:30:00

On The Edge Of A Dream That You've Had
As far as the eye can see, there is a vast, endless wheat field. The golden stalks ripple in a gentle breeze as if a burnished sea, carrying carrying with it the scent of saltwater and sand. In the far distance - just beyond the trees over yonder - there is the sound of crashing waves just under that of crying gulls.

A dirt path crosses the center of the field, passing a tree. The tree itself is gnarled, warped, and looks like something that threatens to fall over at even the slightest of breezes. Yet, it bares the sweetest-smelling peaches that could ever be imagined...

... or dreamed. This is a dream, can't you tell...?...

... or maybe it isn't...

... a wooden panel strung between two pieces of rope dangle from one of the tree's branches; a crude swing. It sways back and forth in the breeze.

To the North, there is the sound of crashing waves. To the South, a mountain range.

Where will you go?

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indreams
2011-08-06 02:23 am UTC (link)

[His was not a presence that was supposed to be here.

The proof of that is in the way that the sky lurches and darkens, threatening a downpour, and the gentle breeze that had once promised to kiss cheeks and ruffle hair starts to whip wildly through the tails of his coat.

What are you doing here. This is where she's supposed to feel safe. Her dreams. What are you doing here. Whatareyoudoinghere?!

His smile seems to be the first thing that cracks the earth -- the world -- apart, and the tree begins to wilt. One by one, peaches (save for the one that Neah is reaching for) drop to the ground as the branches being to furl and wither.

You thought that everything you touched would turn to gold, it turned to ash instead~

As his hand drops away from the peach, the fruit falls and squelches against the earth.]

A snake.

[A flash of white whispers along the swing; a young, lithe, limber body wrapped in sheer white lace is sitting there. Small hands wrapped around rope, legs crossed at the ankle. Her expression is still, guarded.

Hurt.

Afraid.

What are you doing here?]

Is that how you think of me, Brother?

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allisoblivion
2011-08-06 03:17 am UTC (link)

[If it were meant to get a reaction out of him (and he figures not--she knows him), it doesn't. Perhaps just a flick downward of his gaze to follow the fruit as it splatters to the ground, rotten.

A shame.

In the roaring gale it would almost be hard to hear her vehement whisper, except he always does. It's why he stands as still as he does for a moment.

We're linked, aren't we, Sister? Even in death.

Tell him, how long have you been hiding your form now?]

Rhode, dear. [His back still to her, his tone really is nothing but loving, ever the lazy care as velvet is over a knife.

Lazy, calm, catlike gold. Does it remind you of someone?

Fierce, focused, polite. Does it remind you of someone else?

See, you've never truly been without him. Never able to be without him.]

You misunderstand. [And he turns then, coattails still whipping in the storm, hands tucked deep in pockets and as at ease as if it were a summer day.

Do note, though--he'll never tread on the spilled fruit.]

If one is to be Adam, then who is Eve?

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indreams
2011-08-06 03:54 am UTC (link)

Ne~ah~

[When the fruit falls and splatters, it brings about a stinking, decayed smell. Rot. Something going sour, something going bad. Foul.

Her form is her choice, she'll do with it as she pleases. ~~Even if she didn't fully choose this one; even if it is still far too vulnerable. Even here, where it shouldn't be.~~ --

She knows that tone, all too well. With his back turned, he can't see the way her knuckles are turning white from clenching her fists until fingernails cut into her palms and send blood trickling down her wrists. It's a tone she... never thought she'd hear directed at her. Not like this.

~~Never without him. And he knows it.~~

Her fingers clench tighter, sending her nails deeper into her palms and staining her dress when he turns, but her face remains completely motionless.]

Who is Adam, if he can't remain loyal to Eve~?

The wind whips again, bringing with it, this time, the sound of bells - particularly that of the sort of bells found around on a jester's cowl, or perhaps tied around his ankles.]

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