what dreams are made of
disclaimer: i own nothing
a/n: that was moof O.o
I laugh as the air catches me, softly, gently, holding me up. I can believe I have wings when I am far above the little stick figure of people swishing past in black robes. I lean back into the warm arms holding me; this is what flying feels like, and what dreams are made of, they are made of this soft whiteness and warmth and the wind blowing and all of the voices far away except for the one of my red-haired knight...in just a little bit rusty armor.