Dreams of Violet Wings

The dreams are different now. As stars wheel above in the night skies and the day waxes long, the dreams change.

In his dreams he wanders through shadowy forests whispering of ancient things, searching, ever searching. The great trunks that reach high above his head are black with age, the leaves sepia-toned and faded like dreams. There is no color save the pale gold of the leaves as he scans the shadows...

There! Violet, a splash of color in the dark. Flickering, beckoning, that spark calls him, and he comes. It seems as if the path of that tiny spark is marked by glittering star dust for his dreaming feet to follow.

Ever onward he is led by that beacon until he reaches a forest clearing. The grass gleams pearl gray. He stares up at the pewter sky and then looks around him. The trail of sparkling dust is gone.

Before his eyes... the woman he dreams of, that creature of milk-white flesh and black silk... then something pulls him out of slumber, dream-forest a fading memory, and right before he opens his eyes, all he sees are violet wings closing about him in an embrace.

oo8oo8oo8oo

I don't own anything you recognize.

oo8oo8oo8oo

In the words of JunoMagic:

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Disclaimer/Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.