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seikilosTitle: Pleasant Dreams
Fandom:![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
luceti, Tales of Legendia, original works
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Words: 791
Disclaimer: I don't own the above fandoms.
Summary: Grune has a nice visitor to one of her dreams--a nervosa.
Author's Notes: This is something I wanted to do to participate in Katie McCoy's ongoing player plot, but I couldn't think of a way to work it into game canon. I guess you could assume everything to do with Grune is canon, but the second half of the fic can be considered me just goofing around.Sorry, Walter. I love you, honestly I do.
It's not the best thing I've ever written, but I had fun, so hey.
Grune never has nightmares.
Or, rather, she's never bothered by the sorts of dreams most people would consider nightmares. Falling is fun, being chased means she's playing tag, and her friends vanishing before her eyes means, of course, hide and seek. Even those very rare times her mind calls up the blood and death she's seen both in Luceti and on the Legacy, she isn't afraid. After all, everything will turn out all right in the end.
For the most part, though, her dreams are made up of sunshine and flowers and picnics—all the wonderful things in life. And this night in particular is no exception: she sits under a brilliant blue sky, weaving daisies the size of sunflowers into a crown. The air is filled with butterflies with genuine rainbow wings, and everything around her is beautiful.
But then, it's night, as suddenly as if someone had shut off an electric light. There's no more sun, and there are no moon or stars, either. The butterflies are gone, too.
Grune looks about in confusion, then stands. The flowers and grass are now dead; only the blooms in her crown remain, too white in the darkness. (The black sky seems painted on, somehow. Even though her mind says it's night, her sight is clear. Because it's a dream, she doesn't question this.)
With the kind of knowing that's natural in dreams, she turns around. There, immediately before her, is a tall, grinning and grinning and grinning figure. Its straggle-haired body is cut with a dozen sharp-toothed mouths; arms jangle from its tower of a frame, fingers splayed and grasping at the thinned air.
"Hello," Grune says to the newcomer. "Are you here for a visit?"
The being screech-snarls and shoves a hand in her face. Still another mouth parts the palm, barely any distance from her eyes.
She takes a few unhurried steps back. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stand too close."
The newcomer crowds nearer once again, attempting to loom. An onlooker would expect it to reek, no doubt of shallow graves covering dismembered corpses, but it is odourless. Nothing has a scent in her dream.
Grune looks at it in puzzlement for a moment, wondering what it might want. Then her gaze lowers to her hands. She smiles.
"Here you go."
Standing on tiptoe, she carefully places her daisy crown on what she guesses is its head.
The being is still; even its restless, clutching hands come to a halt as she steps back to admire its newly ornamented brow.
"There," she says happily. "That looks very nice."
For a little longer, the creature stays where it is, unmoving. Then, slumping a little more than before, it turns and shuffles away.
She's in the middle of waving goodbye when the superficial darkness of her dream becomes the dim shapes of her room.
Once she's aware that she's woken up, she lies back in her bed for a bit, then lets out a contented sigh. That was a nice dream.
*
The next morning, she greets Sophie on her way into the kitchen. "Good morning!"
"Morning!" Sophie echoes and diverts her course to give her a hug, which Grune immediately kneels to accept.
"Did you have a nice sleep?" She kisses Sophie's rounded cheek and stands again.
"Yeah." She looks up at her. "There were kitties and they fought the bad guy. It was cool."
"My, that sounds like an exciting dream!" Grune giggles.
Movement catches her eye and she turns to see Walter emerging from his room. That's a little unusual—normally he gets up very early, before everyone else.
"Good morning, Walter!" she calls out cheerfully as he stumbles closer.
"Mmph," in his only response.
Oh, my. Now that he's a little closer, she can see the huge dark circles under his eyes and the way his hair is sticking up everywhere. He doesn't look very good at all.
"Didn't you have a good night's sleep?" she asks in concern.
"No," he snaps. "Is there any coffee in this house?"
She thinks about it. "Hmm. . . . I wonder."
"Never mind!" He reemerges from the kitchen and pounds his way to the door. A moment later, it slams behind him.
Grune blinks, then looks down at Sophie. "I think he got up on the wrong side of the bed today."
Sophie doesn't look particularly troubled by this. "I'm hungry."
"Oh, I'll get you something to eat," she promises.
She hears the toilet flush and Fenimore's voice calls from the bathroom, "I'll do it."
"Thank you, Fenimore!"
Now she can't wait, because Fenimore makes delicious breakfasts. First a lovely dream and then a meal cooked by her dear friend—this really is going to be a wonderful day!
Fandom:
luceti, Tales of Legendia, original worksGenre: Gen
Rating: PG
Words: 791
Disclaimer: I don't own the above fandoms.
Summary: Grune has a nice visitor to one of her dreams--a nervosa.
Author's Notes: This is something I wanted to do to participate in Katie McCoy's ongoing player plot, but I couldn't think of a way to work it into game canon. I guess you could assume everything to do with Grune is canon, but the second half of the fic can be considered me just goofing around.
It's not the best thing I've ever written, but I had fun, so hey.
Grune never has nightmares.
Or, rather, she's never bothered by the sorts of dreams most people would consider nightmares. Falling is fun, being chased means she's playing tag, and her friends vanishing before her eyes means, of course, hide and seek. Even those very rare times her mind calls up the blood and death she's seen both in Luceti and on the Legacy, she isn't afraid. After all, everything will turn out all right in the end.
For the most part, though, her dreams are made up of sunshine and flowers and picnics—all the wonderful things in life. And this night in particular is no exception: she sits under a brilliant blue sky, weaving daisies the size of sunflowers into a crown. The air is filled with butterflies with genuine rainbow wings, and everything around her is beautiful.
But then, it's night, as suddenly as if someone had shut off an electric light. There's no more sun, and there are no moon or stars, either. The butterflies are gone, too.
Grune looks about in confusion, then stands. The flowers and grass are now dead; only the blooms in her crown remain, too white in the darkness. (The black sky seems painted on, somehow. Even though her mind says it's night, her sight is clear. Because it's a dream, she doesn't question this.)
With the kind of knowing that's natural in dreams, she turns around. There, immediately before her, is a tall, grinning and grinning and grinning figure. Its straggle-haired body is cut with a dozen sharp-toothed mouths; arms jangle from its tower of a frame, fingers splayed and grasping at the thinned air.
"Hello," Grune says to the newcomer. "Are you here for a visit?"
The being screech-snarls and shoves a hand in her face. Still another mouth parts the palm, barely any distance from her eyes.
She takes a few unhurried steps back. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stand too close."
The newcomer crowds nearer once again, attempting to loom. An onlooker would expect it to reek, no doubt of shallow graves covering dismembered corpses, but it is odourless. Nothing has a scent in her dream.
Grune looks at it in puzzlement for a moment, wondering what it might want. Then her gaze lowers to her hands. She smiles.
"Here you go."
Standing on tiptoe, she carefully places her daisy crown on what she guesses is its head.
The being is still; even its restless, clutching hands come to a halt as she steps back to admire its newly ornamented brow.
"There," she says happily. "That looks very nice."
For a little longer, the creature stays where it is, unmoving. Then, slumping a little more than before, it turns and shuffles away.
She's in the middle of waving goodbye when the superficial darkness of her dream becomes the dim shapes of her room.
Once she's aware that she's woken up, she lies back in her bed for a bit, then lets out a contented sigh. That was a nice dream.
The next morning, she greets Sophie on her way into the kitchen. "Good morning!"
"Morning!" Sophie echoes and diverts her course to give her a hug, which Grune immediately kneels to accept.
"Did you have a nice sleep?" She kisses Sophie's rounded cheek and stands again.
"Yeah." She looks up at her. "There were kitties and they fought the bad guy. It was cool."
"My, that sounds like an exciting dream!" Grune giggles.
Movement catches her eye and she turns to see Walter emerging from his room. That's a little unusual—normally he gets up very early, before everyone else.
"Good morning, Walter!" she calls out cheerfully as he stumbles closer.
"Mmph," in his only response.
Oh, my. Now that he's a little closer, she can see the huge dark circles under his eyes and the way his hair is sticking up everywhere. He doesn't look very good at all.
"Didn't you have a good night's sleep?" she asks in concern.
"No," he snaps. "Is there any coffee in this house?"
She thinks about it. "Hmm. . . . I wonder."
"Never mind!" He reemerges from the kitchen and pounds his way to the door. A moment later, it slams behind him.
Grune blinks, then looks down at Sophie. "I think he got up on the wrong side of the bed today."
Sophie doesn't look particularly troubled by this. "I'm hungry."
"Oh, I'll get you something to eat," she promises.
She hears the toilet flush and Fenimore's voice calls from the bathroom, "I'll do it."
"Thank you, Fenimore!"
Now she can't wait, because Fenimore makes delicious breakfasts. First a lovely dream and then a meal cooked by her dear friend—this really is going to be a wonderful day!
