[ It's a strange shift, even in dreaming. The suffocating pressure, the sensations against her neck under the hazy lens of the dream — then nothing, a gentle ease. Sudden and almost jarring, but not enough to pull her from the dream even as she shifts slightly in her sleep — exhaling sharply. For a brief moment there's uncertainty where one stage ends and the next begins. It just is. She feels like she can breathe again, and the fear slips away like the brushing of a wave on the sand.
She slowly pushes herself up on her shoulders to find herself in a wonderfully strange place; like something she could paint, perhaps something she might have painted once. How the colours seem the breathe around her — some extraordinary, wonderful world. Luna's quiet for a long moment, taking it all in, flopping back down into the soft cushion of wildflowers. When she turns to find Peter, stirring beside her as she does, the previous dream is almost completely forgotten. She utters his name softly, turning to face him as he takes her hand with is.
'There— there are flowers in your hair.'
Luna smiles, her other hand reaching over and up to gently touch a little blossom in his hair. Yours, too. A warming sensation washes over her, something quiet and gentle. She curls in close beside him, her fingers tracing down the side of his face, ghosting down and along his jaw. There's a soft shyness in her, a little giddy. This is a good dream. She feels at peace.
There's a shuddering exhale from her as she sleeps, but nothing more, and certainly nothing of concern. Her furrowed brow slowly smoothens out once more, muscles slowly and gradually relaxing as the terror of the nightmare eases out of her. She makes no more sounds, no more whimpers or hushed sounds of fretfulness. For a long time, Luna is still save for the slight fluttering beneath her closed eyes — dreams quietly and softly in this little space he's created for her. The silence is tranquil.
And when she stirs after some time has passed, it's only with the natural shift of sleep phases — the stage of dreaming coming to any end and she shifts into lighter sleep. Only instead she's pulled slowly into the stages of waking, slow and groggy as she burrows her head into her pillow and groans quietly, frowning for a long moment before she tentatively opens her eyes — two softly glowing circles in the dark. There's a long silence from her as she takes in her surroundings, reminds herself where she is, and then slowly looks up to find a pair of too-full black eyes staring back at her. Luna blinks a few times, confusion flittering over her face for a long time but she can't quite bring herself to move — her body too heavy with sleep.
It's not Peter staring back at her. She's gotten too used to who she's looking at, the shifts in their gazes depending on who's in control. She knows it's not Peter who's awake, but Paimon instead. And of course, it's nothing too out of the ordinary — she's realised before Paimon might shift into waking and go off by himself in the house: up in the attic, perhaps. Or to Peter's room. He doesn't stay. So she's curious as to why he's still here with her while she sleeps. That's... not usual, she doesn't think? Then again, perhaps she doesn't actually know what's usual, if she's asleep the whole time. ]
Paimon. [ She speaks his name softly, her voice thick with sleep. ] Why are you awake? It's not morning, is it?
[ She doesn't think it is, although it's quite hard to tell under the perpetual emerald darkness. Even with time set aside as 'bedtime' and a time to sleep, even when they wake it still remains as dark as it had been when they'd went to bed. ]
i started writing this like four days ago..........
She slowly pushes herself up on her shoulders to find herself in a wonderfully strange place; like something she could paint, perhaps something she might have painted once. How the colours seem the breathe around her — some extraordinary, wonderful world. Luna's quiet for a long moment, taking it all in, flopping back down into the soft cushion of wildflowers. When she turns to find Peter, stirring beside her as she does, the previous dream is almost completely forgotten. She utters his name softly, turning to face him as he takes her hand with is.
'There— there are flowers in your hair.'
Luna smiles, her other hand reaching over and up to gently touch a little blossom in his hair. Yours, too. A warming sensation washes over her, something quiet and gentle. She curls in close beside him, her fingers tracing down the side of his face, ghosting down and along his jaw. There's a soft shyness in her, a little giddy. This is a good dream. She feels at peace.
There's a shuddering exhale from her as she sleeps, but nothing more, and certainly nothing of concern. Her furrowed brow slowly smoothens out once more, muscles slowly and gradually relaxing as the terror of the nightmare eases out of her. She makes no more sounds, no more whimpers or hushed sounds of fretfulness. For a long time, Luna is still save for the slight fluttering beneath her closed eyes — dreams quietly and softly in this little space he's created for her. The silence is tranquil.
And when she stirs after some time has passed, it's only with the natural shift of sleep phases — the stage of dreaming coming to any end and she shifts into lighter sleep. Only instead she's pulled slowly into the stages of waking, slow and groggy as she burrows her head into her pillow and groans quietly, frowning for a long moment before she tentatively opens her eyes — two softly glowing circles in the dark. There's a long silence from her as she takes in her surroundings, reminds herself where she is, and then slowly looks up to find a pair of too-full black eyes staring back at her. Luna blinks a few times, confusion flittering over her face for a long time but she can't quite bring herself to move — her body too heavy with sleep.
It's not Peter staring back at her. She's gotten too used to who she's looking at, the shifts in their gazes depending on who's in control. She knows it's not Peter who's awake, but Paimon instead. And of course, it's nothing too out of the ordinary — she's realised before Paimon might shift into waking and go off by himself in the house: up in the attic, perhaps. Or to Peter's room. He doesn't stay. So she's curious as to why he's still here with her while she sleeps. That's... not usual, she doesn't think? Then again, perhaps she doesn't actually know what's usual, if she's asleep the whole time. ]
Paimon. [ She speaks his name softly, her voice thick with sleep. ] Why are you awake? It's not morning, is it?
[ She doesn't think it is, although it's quite hard to tell under the perpetual emerald darkness. Even with time set aside as 'bedtime' and a time to sleep, even when they wake it still remains as dark as it had been when they'd went to bed. ]