the fight is done, the war is won
lift your hands toward the sun
the first day dream is well enough to leave the house, he asks to see the world again, to be reminded of the beauty of the lands that he made. he’s still not strong enough to walk unaided, or even stand for more than short bursts, still too weak and worn from his time in the prison, but he’s happy enough just to sit and see the world. the sun shines on his face and the flowers wave in the breeze, and the grass is cool and soft between his scarred fingertips. a ladybug lands on his hand, and dream is reminded of the superstitions about them as he lifts his hand, the ladybug climbing up and up until it finally spreads its wings to fly. as he watches it go, birdsong in his ears and the cool breeze blowing lightly through his hair, dream thinks his luck might just be changing.
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