[littl3chocobo]

his dreams were warped and strange, leave and rivers ran red and gold, stars fell from the sky. wings, everwhere wings. he woke up.


the dawn was rising, he had slept through the evening and the night, and yet he awoke un-rested. his dreams were wrong somehow though the milky egg of the sun dispelled it quickly, all he could remember were wingss. he did not dwell on it, if his dreams came back then so be it, if not so be that as well, he dragged himself lazily out of bed. he ran his hands through his hair until the worst of the snarls were out then went downstairs to get their breakfasts.