“you and me, in our playhouse.” [p]

[Rose]

Lostspark
She/Her | Purrks Overlook

A meadow.

That was what she was met by when she first opened her eyes to the world of dreams. And Lostspark was slightly ashamed to admit that she did not dare to move, did not dare to breathe, did not dare to blink, for she did not want this mirage to disappear.

She certainly was that desperate. A break from all the chaos. The disaster that was her reality. Was it... real? Slowly, oh so slowly, she allowed herself to blink, and then to breathe. And when multiple moments had passed, when no monster tore out of any pocket of darkness to get her, the scarred grey feline relaxed. Her heartrate slowed, it settled, and she found herself slumping to the grassy carpet below her paws with relief. The sun bathed her pelt in warmth, and Lostspark felt like she could stay here forever, in this peaceful eternity.

She did not know how she had come here, but she did know that the strange sense of solace this vast expanse of meadow brought her was unrivaled.

[ @redshiftreign - Silksong | A tad short, but here we go ]

[redshiftreign]

silksong
THE ZEPHYR
@Rose [lostspark]

a meadow.

sedge sways gently in the breeze. though crisp, almost spring-like, it's not cold. with it carries a fresh scent, one untainted by clans and blood. untainted by mortal paws that might dare to disturb the fragile balance of tranquility embedded in the very fabric of reality here. it is fundamental, it is constant, and it in that one eternal moment feels both larger and infinitely smaller than either of the momentary denizens care to realize. time sprawls out in its infinite scope, endlessly toiling onwards; pirouetting in a futile fractal spiral, irrelevant, irreverent, and disregarded.

birdsong lilts, a gentle melody on the wind. silksong tilts his silver head back, angling his chin to point at the sky from where it had been resting upon his paws. the air is different, he notes. poisoned, almost. something new. change, otherwise uninvited, within his domain. his domain. where he forgot his strife, his hunger, his burdens, and lost himself to listless and languid rumination. where the birdsong looped in the background of his wondering, where he sat, unabashed about his small joy. it was the small joy, sleep, that held him in its silk cradle and kept the worst of his thoughts at bay. the ones that had claws and vitriol, and stronger emotions than what he could bottle, cork, and stuff down.

but, silksong did not speak. this place has unspoken rules- rules he dare not break. though there was an interloper, he could tell, within his palace (unexpected, but not unwelcome. silksong thought himself quite the generous and benevolent youth) he did not dare shatter the tender peace. it was all he had. it was all he needed. it was all that nourished. hopefully, this stranger would come to understand his fascination with the quiet, timeless meadow that sat somewhere nestled in the nook of liminal and unnaturally serene. so close to the point of tipping over, but just alive enough to provide the right type of comfort for cats like him.

cats that needed an escape from the noise of life.