secret scenes in the seams of the world

[Hemming]

Yay, hi!

[html]

Worry would drift away and float back like the waves, riding up onto Hemming's thoughts and pulling them back into the ocean. He hated feeling like this, he really did, but there was no barricade that would stop the hazy mist of dreamer's dread. Each object around him took some figurative form, and the world was spelled out in poetry. The darkening sky was a symbol of the time that was running out, the fine grains of sand saying something about the impermanence of self. Hemming felt as if he had slipped past the tender skin of the real world and was drifting around behind the scenes, watching the worn cogs and gears that made the Earth spin and the birds fly. The mechanisms of life, of feeling, and their rawness was suddenly evident and suddenly overwhelming. There were sharp edges within every single living creature, hidden from the world by whatever form their flesh might take.       What did Dagrun think of him? The dusky male had never thought of it before, at least any more than in passing, but now the question seemed to have a gravity to it that he could not escape. All of a sudden the perceptions that others had of him became important and influential, and though Hemming had essentially been told that he was valued he somehow doubted the idea. It wasn't that he felt as if he shouldn't be cherished, not at all, but just the unfamiliarity of the feeling made it absurd. He (at least he thought) had never been prized before this, and so why should he be now? With the misplaced feeling came a sense of responsibility that had never lingered within him before. He was a wanderer, true, and he loved to put new earth beneath his paws, but deep inside he was as resistant to change as everybody else was.       If he had slipped into the hidden workings of the world, a ladder was being dropped to him now. Hemming had been tracing a line through the sand with his fingertip to make a moat when a voice slipped past the rubbery skin of real life into the glass shard jungle of his mind. The slender wolf turned his head toward the creature that had formed the word and merely stared for a moment. Had he slipped so far in that he had come out on a new side, where creatures were similar to the ones from where he came, only different enough to make it seem like a dream? The wolf before him was huge, with markings unlike most anything that Hemming could even imagine. In the odd yellow and pink light that bounced across the waters, the other's eyes were almost otherworldly.       Hemming contemplated him for a moment, amber eyes watching the large creature as if to find some clue that he had drifted into a dream, before replying tentatively, "Hello." A finger lingered in the sand, ears were perked forward, and mouth stayed partly open after muttering the greeting. Dagrun shuffled her feathers a little and seemed to scrutinize the other for just a moment with her beady little eyes. She was one of short attention, though, and quickly turned her eyes back to the sky, watching things that only birds could see.

[/html]