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puddles of color
puddles of color
zeno and the sky bleeder
I dream of a fox who wanted to prove he was just as clever as he was elegant. Zeno (as they called him) lived in a forest that had giant glass buildings scattered throughout. They were tall and sharp, like swords reaching to stab the sky. Occasionally, they must have found success as Zeno noted the sky would bleed—clear blood, nothing like his own. Nothing like the blood of the leaves he liked to munch on (do foxes eat leaves?) 

Zeno spent his days wondering who the sky bleeder was. Until, one day, he decided he'd find out.

Then everyone will know how clever I am," he thought.

Armed with this hope of self-actualization, Zeno set off to collect all the tears that he could. He had often observed that—when spread thin—they showed him his true nature. Surely, if he looked deep enough and hard enough, he'd see past the mere reflection. He'd find the source of this magic blood.

What Zeno found instead was a friend.
luna meets zeno
Luna was as curious as Zeno was elegant and the two were nothing if not matched for wits.

As Zeno went about collecting all the tears, he noticed that some were oddly colored—a little purplish red in places. It reminded him of his own blood!

Are the puddles showing me my blood? Am I bleeding? No, thankfully Zeno was not bleeding.

One day, he stumbled into a puddle and was lifted back up by an octopus arm. What's this! He had never seen such a thing!

The two became fast friends. Luna was full of ocean tales, where plants floated and buildings hung from the sky. Zeno quickly decided she was worthy and told the octopus of his quest to find the bleeding sky Lord.

Luna vowed to help. She swam from ocean to ocean, collecting the tears she could. But, alas, there was just too much water in the water.

Luna and Zeno spent more and more time in each other's company. They spent their days lingering by the water's surface, poised on the edge between worlds. There, they traded stories and plants and rocks.

"One day," the octopus said, "I'd surely like to see your world full of these buildings that pierce the sky." 

"And if only I could see your world too," said Zeno. "Perhaps someday we will find a way. Perhaps the sky bleeder knows how."

The sky bleeder!

The two had forgotten. And they went on forgetting, passing day after day with dream after story until even the memory of the quest was lost in time.
the dream bazaar
I dream of a bazaar where glowing orbs suck dreams from people's souls so they can be traded or sold like carrots in an open market.

The dream peddlers go about with their carts, enticing wanderers with the dancing patterns inside the orbs. Sometimes, one breaks and a dream escapes, floating into the ether. The peddlers are not happy—good dreams are hard to come by.

And even harder to preserve. Dreams are known to die, after all, and sometimes orbs turn gray with age or disenchantment.

Tonight the bazaar is especially chaotic. Too many floaters for any one spirit slave to track. Amidst the chaos of the bazaar is a girl. She stands paralyzed, mesmerized, by the glitter and the glow of the dancing lights. What will she trade her dream for?
starry-eyed and jaded
I dream of a star-filled sky that a StarMan calls home. In his hand, this man carries a BlackHole bucket and on his shoulder a ladder made of meteors. Every night, he pulls out the ladder and shoots it into the heavens. Up and up and up he climbs, pulling stars from eyes and putting them right back where they belong—in the sky.
light and dark
I dream of a girl who shows will, resolution and power, even in the face of adversity. Not untouched by life, she wears a mask, ever ready for the gaudy ball that is her world.

Much like her mask, her mind is a single butterfly with one wing dark and one light.
the sands of time
I dream of a song I heard years ago by an artist whose name escapes me. A song about an hourglass glued to a table. A song about reaching into the past for that single grain of sand. To relive it, undo it, or just because that would actually be quite cool.
on my own
I dream of two characters, dancing on a boardwalk by the ocean. Or is there only one? Perhaps this isn't my dream at all, but that of a certain Parisian character. The lights might indicate so.
light weaver
I dream of a young witch who weaves light into her magic. There was a time she feared she would never be ready, but when she needed it most, she found the light to illuminate her path.

#wayofkings #shallandavar
not all who wander are lost
I dream of an octopus reaching for a fallen astrolabe, or is it a compass? In any case, the octopus has never once needed the aid of such a navigational trinket, and is therefore intrigued by the human toy

the sky's awake so i'm awake
I dream of a girl who dreams of catching the rainbow lights she often falls asleep to. Tonight, they are closer than ever and so she runs as fast as she possibly can—maybe this time she will catch one. Maybe tonight is the night.

As she approaches, something even more magical happens. Instead of a catching a light or dancing under one, she's finds herself dancing with the lights and they—with her.

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