──EMORY PARKS was perfectly content with her life. She had a livable wage, a dingy apartment, and a pretty decent best friend. She had no more reasons to be discontent, she's loved and she's let go. When her friend Johanna lets her tag along to one...
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𝘉𝘌𝘈𝘜𝘛𝘐𝘍𝘜𝘓 𝘖𝘉𝘓𝘐𝘝𝘐𝘖𝘕 - 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘕𝘌𝘐𝘎𝘏𝘉𝘖𝘜𝘙𝘏𝘖𝘖𝘋
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𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃
3 MONTHS LATER
EMORY SAT IN HER APARTMENT, LEGS CROSSED AND HER HANDS IN HER LAP, STARING INTO HER LOOKING GLASS. Her crystalline eyes reflected in the glare of the glass, watching the dreaming. Her head blocked out everything, solely focused on the thriving life inside the glass. She sat there, in her batman pajama pants and a thin t-shirt, the looking glass hanging off of a knob on her dresser. Her eyes focused on each and every person, every detail in the gardening, and every little noise she heard coming from it.
She envisioned herself there, walking around like she would in London. She closed her eyes, sitting there completely still, thinking about the dreaming. For months and months, she had been attempting to travel the realms, trying different ways Maeve had recommended her after she left the living. Emory opened her eyes, looking around. She wasn't in her bedroom nor was she in a different place on earth- or at least she thought she wasn't. She stood up, looking at the multitude of scrappy graves in a cleared plot behind two houses.
The blond walked towards the houses, hearing shouting from the front. She reached the side of the house, jumping back slightly as a woman appeared in front of her. Her head was shaven cleanly in a matching purple suit, she looked overly agitated with Emory without speaking a word to the woman. "Who are you?" She snipped, a sarcastic smile gracing her features.
"Emory Parks, no need to worry. I am just passing through." She waved her hand dismissively.
"Come with me please." The woman grabbed her arm, both of them fading away from the houses into a large cathedral, three stained glass windows stood proudly behind a throne atop a spiral staircase. Morpheus sat on the throne, stacks of books cluttered by his feet. He looked up, deadpanning when he saw Emory's arm being gripped by Lucienne.
