Phantom Hollow Made of gold, I'll never love a

Dusty Rose.

She was shrieking before she knew she was — DUSTY ROSE! — and there was the scent of blood on him, but it didn't matter just then. Reverie didn't stop when she reached him; she crashed right into him, still shrieking, and wrapped herself around him with her teeth harmlessly raking his jaw and cheeks and forehead. All over, really.

You - Oh, there was anger somewhere in it, but too much affection and relief for it to truly burn. She mouthed the side of his neck roughly. He was here, Dusty Rose, her Dusty Rose. Reverie pulled him closer, starting to cry as the realization hit her fully.