D U N E
- ☾ -
E
verything Dune is, he’s learned how to be. The way he walks like a cat, casually tense, has been slowly beaten into him each time he doesn’t strike or flee fast enough. The way he stands tall and still, the way he can keep standing like that for hours and hours, is the result of many shifts worked as security. (It was the most boring job- rich people always thought others were out to steal from or assassinate them, but this was unfortunately never the case, at least while Dune was working)But nobody has ever looked at him the way she does now, with fear and bewilderment. And so he hasn’t ever learned how to respond to such a look; taken aback, his ears flick back uncertainly.
(And oh, this is the first time but not the last. One day he will be far too used to being looked at like that as he learns to sweep through dreams like a god or demon. Remember this, if you can, girl-- this is history in the making.)
He almost, almost pities Miriam and her pile of bones.
But then she frowns, that ugly little twist of her pretty little lips, and whatever grudging sympathy he might have had- it’s gone, all of it, just like that. “Well, that’s quite rude. Isn’t this my dream, anyway?”
“my dream-” the words ricochet in Dune’s head. My dream-- no one yet recognized that this is really his dream. They are all his dreams. But he can play along. He laughs and looks around appraisingly. It fills him with slow delight to be in this position, to stand in front of this garishly wealthy woman and look at her with a raised brow to suggest- “I thought you could do better.” Dune is all too familiar with derision, although he’s generally on the receiving end of it.
“I’m so sorry, miss. You’re right,” he says. “my dreams are much nicer.” He grasps at her pile of bones, and with a twist of his magic they turn to fireflies and white-winged butterflies. Mindless creatures, they scatter across the room. Fireflies land in Dune’s mane, illuminating his dark skin with a warm glow, and a single large butterfly lands on the tip of Miriam’s nose. It shivers there, wings flexing in search of a sun that doesn’t shine.
And then the walls begin to melt. Objectively, it is terrifying. Nobody likes to see reality dissolve. But the body does not respond in horror- it finds the melting to be soothing. The mind recognizes the freedom, the release, the clarity that comes from seeing for the first time that the rules are really just suggestions. Something in you softens in response, your worries drifting up and away on the fluttering wings of butterflies. And when you fall, if you fall, satin pillows will be there to cradle your heavy body.
dream a little dream of me
