Wheeling Gull Isle nemiyon

heda dreamed.
in this landscape, she became gold-dust misting and encircled her island, far more quickly than on her own legs. she raced upward, upward, toward the opening arms of the sun, icarus flying toward the greatness of an orb that would not this time melt her blossoming wings.
the cascade of heat filled her; arteries, bones, veins, skin, consuming her with a sweetening ecstasy that she knew must be the glowing from the very gates of heaven.
heda opened her eyes to a new day, and to find that the very glittering of the sun was stamped into her entire flesh. she felt made of gilded motes, of seafoam. awed, she wandered trancelike to the edge of the greenhills and looked out over the eternal sea.
the salt-spray air, festooned now with the curious and delicate hinting that hovered in an aura unknown around heda.
when @Caracal found her, she would be lifting one limb and then the other, gazing in rapture at her own forelegs as if she could see how her blood had turned to molten gold, knowing that her own ribcage now housed the very heart of god.
rapturous. reverent.