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er name is a hand me down of a hand me down. Lilliana, and before even that, Lilianna. Lilianna’s mother, Mae, found her one night, bleeding from that half heart that was ripped open, her body still twisted from throwing herself headfirst into a belief that death could bring an end to her heartache. “Are you named after my baby?” Mae asked her. “Who is your baby?” Elli asked back. “Lilianna.” Mae responded, longingly. “Then I guess I am,” Elli responded back. And though they read the same page, they have opened different books.

The sun is bleak and waning and the pastel colors of the sunset were still streaked across the sky. Her heart thrums for adventure, for stories, for stardust dreams, for shadows. She walks the street of Night Court, her parents having permitted her to go into the city to get an after dinner treat. It was not often she was allowed this sort of freedom to be on her own, and when she was, she was not to wander far. There are eyes watching her here, those who know her parents, who would alert them if she were to find trouble. Jack rests on her shoulders, whispering how if they were quick, they could make a getaway. Elli smiles over her shoulder at him, but she knows they cannot. Now is not the time or the place. 

A songbird watches the the girl, sings a few notes and then grows silent. 

Elli, in return, her wild mouth twitches into a smile before she taps into some internal resources, calling upon a supernatural endurance that only children posses, and flattens out, tail streaming behind her as she runs though the streets, over cobblestones. Dodging shopkeepers, pedestrians, and the occasional Night Court cart. Her sound track is parents’ laughter, ‘slow down’s,’ and the the clipping sound of hooves moving to the side. This was life, she thought, the speed causing tears to spring to her eyes. This was exactly what living was supposed to feel like. Jack clings to her mane and sits low against her, his only defense against her speed. 

She does not stop until she reaches the grand keep and stares up at it, the lights flickering as the sun’s own light continues to die. The voices grow restless in its shadows. (From the corner of her eye, she sees the shape of someone walking, but it disappears at it enters the remaining light of the day.) “Elli,” Jack chatters on her shoulders. “Let’s go,” he insists. “Not yet,” she says back to him, moving towards one of the shadows that sits there, breathing, she can tell by the rise and fall in a way so different to the firelight. 

A face, so close she can see the ice curled around his eyelashes. His hazel eyes are haunting and his smile is wicked and wolfish. She can feel the cold on his breath, the wind from his wings as he leaps at her. ‘Bring me back!’ He yells, reaching towards her as Elli tips backwards with a scream.



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..but nightmares are dreams too.