footsteps follow, down through the hollow sound

[c_zacatechichi]

Characters: c_zacatechichi and you (open :: see HERE)
Date: March 31st
Summary: Fela is walking the Garden's dreams.
Warnings: To be updated as any appear!

The snakes come to her, as she has need of them. Flowing through the Garden, thin jeweled streaks in the grass, they bear her vice on their arced white fangs. They are beautiful creatures, the dreamchaser thinks, and she always has a smile to spare for them, a hand to stroke their iridescent scales. The soñando they carry has turned them all shades of black and brown, but she can still see their splendor and their gleam, rainbows cast from their flexing bodies in just the proper light. "Hello, little ones." Touted in her hands, winding wrists and forearms, circling ankles, draped around her neck. Everywhere they touch they leave behind the familiar smell of poppies, thick and tarry, clogging nose and throat but so delightfully sweet. Pungent, smokey, the smell is forever in Fela's long hair and in her dusky skin. There is no fear, only welcome, only gratitude, and she accepts their teeth as they sink into her flesh, as bliss rises in her veins and suddenly she breathes easily once more despite the cloying poison that steals her memories with every new meeting between them. The world around her blossoms into movement and light, scintillating trails of energy emanating from secret places only she can reach. The wind touches the trees and the rustling of the leaves chimes like many bells and she smiles, stroking the snake still laid around her neck. "Ah." Its scales whisper against her skin, whispering goodbyes as its companions disappear into the grass-- (liquid rivers of prismed radiance, leaving patterned trails of illumination, fireworks jumping from each path as smaller and smaller creatures hurry out of the way) --and the friend around her neck slowly shifts its weight, winding down her arms to be placed upon the ground. She meets the serpent's dark eyes, lost for the moment in the glassy shine of its clever chthonic mind. It blinks at her slowly, tongue fluttering briefly in the air before it twists, leaving the dreamchaser to her work. Alone, she lingers in the doorway of her little mud brick home, the vivid fuchsia cloth hung across the entrance tangled around her. So much to hear, so much to see. It is at length that she moves towards her bed-- (swaying like a dancer, the world sliding and pulsing all around her...) --where she lies down, dark hair spread around her, hanging in dark tendrils across her peaceful expression. And she begins to drift. She has no dreams of her own, no Bohrre-na does, chasing always without ever truly owning. She is a wanderer, a visitor, a tourist in a mystic place, shrouded from sight by the waking world. (Are you sleeping peacefully, little dreamer? Or have you lost yourself in your mind's chaos, your heart's fear? Do you dream of crystal castles or broken window panes?)

⊰ tell me your dreams ⊱

[[OOC; Action style is preferred, but if it is easier to write the introduction to your character's dream in prose, or easier to write their dream in prose in general, I can follow suit after you. You can get hold of me here, here, and here.]]