Seaside Moors i want y'all to just get down.

god i cant do your post justice. its like u making a 5 course meal and me showing up with a cat hairball in a ziploc baggie

he was only distantly aware he was dreaming; there was the real world and then there was this world - with its frayed edges and deepening shadows. it felt just as real as the other world, were it not for the way the edges nettled and blurred when he turned his gaze. if it were not for the illogical inconsistencies of his dream world, he might have been lost in it forever.

there was a stirring -- out from that sooty darkness a wispy light emerged, billowing out cherry-soft petals. valravn's eyes widened as he saw the clearing ripple, the shadows chased away revealing the clover's true colors -- bright cherise, deep hunter green; loamy, viridescent veld.

yet for all of its strangeness val did not feel fear. he was not afraid. his soul knew he had seen this a thousand times before, despite the naive freshness of his newest earthborn mind. that this light -- be it a star or faerie or wisp or soul -- had come for him time and time and time again;

the ground beneath her (for it is her, he knows it) was cut in a swath of brilliant sunlight -- but as he stepped towards her, he felt clovers turn to blackened vines and snare him. he went to cry out, but his voice was stolen from him. his mouth empty, dry -- bare as a skull bleached to white in the desert.

he could not advance forward -- as the seconds passed it seemed he only became more inmeshed in the writhing shadows, which now curled and furled around his legs like shapeless snakes, snaring, rooting, dragging -- meanwhile his eyes remained fastened to her, whose presence lit that gloomy glade in brilliant sunbeam whites. in hope.