[AW] The Court of Dreams

[Nora]

Their voices swell; buldging, celebrating. Toddler ears wouldn't be coaxed or coerced, they've become saturated with animated indulgence; her tiny soul overflows naïve passion. Miette’s young heart (flawlessly trusting our environment and mundane expectations) has become lured by the possibility of unique thrills…as foreign voices tug her attention, hindering our reach…like a waxen leaf, she repeals his correction. Another uneasy sigh is born from the loins of exasperation. Noah's loving affection idles softly against my liver cheek…but the superficial comfort he breaths to life with those whispering lips has already begun to cool. The same utterance which invokes joy in the youngest of our hearts, also invokes my ashen ghost of fear. Dread crawls from brackish, previously undisturbed waters...and when my mate finalizes our approach, taking his natural cue…my throbbing courage instantly shrinks. ...already I'm regretting the suggestion and his agreement... Mini me steps clear of her figurative corner, a somber frown decorating her otherwise passive expression, ‘we are stronger now.' She growls in the face of our misgivings, 'braver.' ----- Firelight (unnaturally tame) shoves aside our tranquility; forcing us to surrender the comforts of known. Wide, unsure focus ventures rearward; aching for the peaceful dips and gullies we've left behind. Ahead, and nearing with every step, the false cavern. Grey stones (once emotionless sentinels) are decorated with pulsing, vibrant amber – foreign silhouettes dissolve like spectral beasts, their outlines snake through glowing cracks…teasing the dew speckled turf below. With ears titled, my crown hovers protectively toward our darling, excitable cherub; feathered arms jerk from their sheath, panting gently and resettling into their irritable coil. Corners inch into a furrow, highlighting my uncertainty should it be missed in the strained utterance emerging from these quivering lips, “reste à côté de moi et papa.” Marble cutouts score the earth with their gradual elevation. Anxiously, the quivering tip of my muzzle reaches to graze the honeyed flank of that beloved guardsman for reassurance as we pass with clicking toes into the nearest corridor. Papery nostrils extend, inhaling a stew of contaminated perfume; smoke and the unsettling assortment of bodies...my pulse hammers, electrifying those hyperactive threads until they bristle. Disorientation quadruples as the narrowish passage unfolds to reveal a room filled to the brim with musky bodies. Aside from the overpowering stench of unfamiliarity, a sweet, sticky and unappealing fragrance swells in my lungs…hindquarters quiver. Tentrils lash quickly against the firm layers of muscle upon either hind-cheek. Even as I stand fast, every fiber is itching to retreat, cower into the shadows...vanish against the furthest wall to escape those strange, new titans. @Noah [hover over text for a translation!]

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