Atem x Reader ☆ In the Twilight

Chapter 3

Dreams reveal only to be dreams and wishes once whispered tenderly to the night find their end in nothing. Lips are left to burn.

Though you have asked it of the forests that charm and bewitch—they are crafty and clever and snare you in their goad. Sometimes they giggle, sometimes they glow, and sometimes they tempt you with secrets you long to know. 

Tempt you and tease you—they have and will. Yet not to or ever have they or ever will they invite you in.

Not until you hear the elves call.

Only then will their song lead you to the places you long to go.

Yet time passes and the call never comes.

And softly you wonder—a touch of dismay—if dreams truly are only dreams; starting and ending in a web of your own lies.

Sometimes, when sorrow runs heavy, you quiet your soul in tales told to your parents of a dazzling sky and the elves who play beneath it. Its beauty is always with you, though time spins it in new and wild ways. One cannot count the times you have told such stories to your parents—for it is as often as the melancholy settles in your bones. 

At the end of it all, your parents are there to praise you for the creative depths of your soul.

They never believe you.

And you begin to no longer believe yourself.

For even the color purple begins to look grey.

. . . ☽ ° ☾ . . .

You are eleven when next you hear the songs of the elves.

Bona Una, my darling be with you?

So long since we said goodbye...

Their voices reach you even in the midst of sleep and lull you into wakefulness. A sharp breath of air disturbs your peaceful drifting and your heart hammers against your chest. Disbelief plays across your trembling fingers, which grip and pull at the sheets beneath you.

You wait...

Wait and listen.

A war of desire wages and finds its battle in lies once told to sweet faces.

Bona Una, if my darling be with you...

Your heart trembles—resistance begins to shake.

Please Bona Una, send them my way...