Who: Athena, Morpheus What: Another dream Where: A dream When: Thursday Warnings: None
In front of the stone wall was a high, high wall of roses, wild and thick. Each flower was a vivid crimson red, a stark contrast to the rain-washed world around them. The bushes towered and twined, the thorns plenty and waiting to be touched. The gate was metal and intricate, the paving stones on the path wide and ancient. Even the grass was dull, a green that seemed grey as everything else around it. The castle was immense, turrets and walkways and windows and towers filling the sky, gatehouses and curtain walls encroaching on the surrounding land.
Morpheus was on his back in the grass, staring up at the crumbling remnants of what was once a glorious bastion set against a dull, cloud-smeared sky. He had been doing so, unmoving, for what was a purposely long time. Not just hours, not just a day. Days. Lost in dark thoughts, lost in absolutely nothing. He could restore the castle to all it was, but to what purpose? Things grew old, became shadows, deserved their rest.
And if the castle was only a shade of what it had been, did that make it any less of what it was? It had been strong, it had been beautiful, it had been all it was needed to be and more. It was not a different castle now that its walls were crumbling and its tapestries rotting. It was the same, same as the bright, radiant place that shimmered briefly over the greyness like a light trying to flicker into being.