Real Fantasies

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That night—after an evening of cream pasta, carrots, potatoes and conversation—was relentlessly cold and windy throughout the island; bending grass and trees, whipping past windows while the heart was close to falling asleep. Cloud after cloud crept past the moon that would soon rise to its peak, but Iolani Tori had yet to put the creature in his cage to rest.

He adjusted the thick, heavy quilt around himself, fluffing the sides and pulling it all the way up to his chin before sinking further into his pillow. It smelled of rain, his pillow did. Reason being, it wasn't exactly his pillow—it was Luka's. Luka's pillow that was never used by the owner but by his tiny sparrow friend.

At present, the pair were supposedly soundly asleep in the eagle's room, on the eagle's bed, under the eagle's covers. A single glance over his shoulder over to the other side of the bed confirmed Io's suspicions of Luka having fallen fast asleep, covers rising and falling steadily over at his side. He inched a little closer for warmth.

Io was, unfortunately, wide awake unlike the other. The restless creature in his chest paced about, searching for answers to questions he knew not the source of. He could hear himself think about the prospect of an end, that it was not only applicable to the old and the ill and the weak and those who wished for an end to their suffering but to everyone. The young, the innocent, the healthy, the ones who are loved and have loved.

Having heard the news of yet another death—of a stranger, nonetheless—rattled the bars of his cage and kept what was inside wide awake. Wary.

Sinking further under the covers did nothing to sooth rampant thoughts. Io was lying still on his side, faced away from Luka and staring into the darkness where he could make out the shapes of outlines of the furniture in his room. Remaining still, here on the bed, would do little to bring about any decent change. Awake, he might as well be doing something else.

He decided, at that very thought, to slip quietly into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of milk, thinking that action would perhaps satisfy his very absence of it, making up for the endless circles that he was running inside.

But the moment he propped himself up on his elbows—all part of getting up and out of Luka's abnormally soft and sinkable bed—his eagle friend stirred awake, eyes open and gold under the absence of light.

"Io?"

His voice was low and sleepy, quiet but oddly attractive. He rose slightly, leaning against the headrest before turning towards the other with half-lidded eyes.

"Luka?" Caught red-handed in his act, Io had stopped everything he was doing to face his friend. "Sorry, did I wake you? I really didn't mean to." The eagle shook his head, watching his companion closely.

"You didn't. It's fine," Luka leaned closer, vision poor in the absence of a light source. "Can't sleep?"

The moon phoenix nodded slowly. "Just...a little. But it's okay—I'll get a glass of milk from the kitchen and it'll be fine. I'll be right back," he reassured the eagle proving his point by displaying a double thumbs-up and urging the other to go back to sleep.

"Was it one of those dreams again?"

Io shook his head insistently, placing his hands on Luka's shoulders and doing his best to push the other back underneath the covers. "No it wasn't. It's really fine—it was nothing. I'm still not quite used to being both diurnal and nocturnal at the same time, that's all."

"Hm," was what he received in return, a unique way of conveying unspoken words that implied suspicion, the identification of a lie and the acceptance of it regardless. "Call if you need me, then."

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