"Nice digs," someone said, and Inara opened her eyes and sat up. She wasn't in her apartment anymore - or, at least, she was in an apartment, and it resembled hers, but it wasn't. It was the decor that tipped her off, really - the lanterns and the silks and the wide open windows had her touch to them, but it was not a real place - well, the decor and the talking raven.
She was dreaming.
This relaxed her. Strange things were always less strange when they were happening when one was asleep. And dreams meant normal, healthy sleep, without spells or charms or Mal-
She blushed.
Shaking her hair back, she swung her legs off of the low settee where she seemed to be resting and walked to the window. It was not at all strange when ravens talked in one's sleep. At all. She leaned against the windowframe and gazed outside, at the swamp. Like everything else, it was familiar, yet not. The nature of dreamscapes, she supposed.
"No," she answered simply. "Not entirely." Her dark eyes flickered to the shining bird. "I'm dreaming you, aren't I?"