D U N E
- ☾ -
A
season of change had begun in Dune. He thinks it all started if not the moment he met Sereia, around that period in time. Even in hindsight, it is hard to pinpoint exactly when these things happened.How many dreamers had there been since her? Dozens? Hundreds? They had all begun to blur together, their faces and names and landscapes coalescing in the sticky, hazy, wonderful-- and sometimes terrifying-- thing he began to call, simply the Dreaming.
From this nebulous, collective landscape unknowingly shared, and contributed to, by every dreamer, a few key individuals touched the boy in particular. Some dreamers had Dune spellbound, and for whatever reason (being dreams, the reasons were rarely reasonable) they latched fiercely to his memories. Be it the warmth of a circlet pressed like a kiss to his forehead, or the clawing claustrophobia of a maze known with too much familiarity… or the golden eyes of a girl with an unbearable secret hidden behind her lips.
Why was she so sad?
He did not expect to ever see her again. The problem with Dune’s magic is that it is-- at the moment-- almost entirely out of his control. It was possible to end up in the same dream twice, but highly unlikely. On more occasions than he cared to admit, Dune had tried to choose the dream. It was never to any success. So when he first opens his eyes to a world that seems vaguely familiar, he tries his best to ignore the rush of hope that tickles behind the ribcage.
The landscape itself is new to him. He stands on a beach that spans as far as the eye can see. The sun is just barely kissing the edge of the sea, and the sky above it is lit up in shades of gold and orange that fade at their edges to a deep, rich darkness. Against the shore the waves rush in almost eerily quiet. The sand glitters strangely in the waxing daylight-- when he takes a closer look he realizes it is not sand as he knows it but diamonds and pearl ground very finely.
And when he looks up she is there, standing in the waves with her eyes bright and warm as flames. His heart beats a little faster as he says in disbelief- “Sereia?” He takes a step towards her and the ocean at his ankles is warm as blood and beating, beating, beating...
“Do you remember me?” The dreamers often did not, and even if she did, surely there’s something different about him now. Would she notice the confident draw of his head, the assurance behind his voice? Last time, he spent so much time hiding behind a looking glass, showing her the desert on bird’s wings instead of his face, his voice, the strange little nuances of his heart.
It doesn’t matter if she remembers. It didn’t matter if Warset remembered, or Elena, or Orestes, or any of his dreamers-- not that a small, defiant part of him would ever stop hoping. “Wait, I have something for you.” It takes a bit of dream magic that he’s been practicing. He could not yet bend the fabric of the dream to make matter where there was none, but he could change his own form and had learned to use this for a clever (if painful) workaround.
Dune shifts so that his right side is facing away from her, for the feat was quite gruesome, and from the flesh of his shoulder he grows a crystal. It is small, no bigger than a walnut, but the effort draws sweat from his brow. The hardest part is separating it from his skin, which he does in one quick, fluid motion with a soft gasp of pain.
A moment later, in the space between Dune and the dreamer floats a desert rose, named for the bladelike crystals that formed a shape somewhat like a flower. He had found this particular rose one day in the canyons, and had studied it very closely so that he might one day be able to replicate it in the dreaming. It was not a perfect recreation of the one he had found, but he was proud of himself nonetheless. “It, uh, made me think of you.” He feels suddenly bashful as he meets her golden gaze on the other side of the floating crystal, but where the Dune of last time would have looked away this Dune takes another step forward, and he shyly smiles.
And what on earth are dreams if not our only way of speaking?
Another dream for you! posted in Terminus Sea because I imagine him sleeping by the ocean, listening to it as he dreams <3
