#diabela

In which Isabela wakes up from a very strange dream...[takes place: morning of December 26]

[cw -- none]

follows Sugarplum Dreaming...

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Isabela woke up slowly, hovering between twinkling Christmas lights and the smell of pine. 

Her alarm was going off, which was rude, considering she had been having a very lovely dream. Rolling over, she hit the snooze before burying her face in her clean sheets again, blotting out the winter sun pouring insistently through the window. 

Details of the dream crept in slowly as she lay there. Dian, tangled in Christmas lights, blinking on and off, like caution lights. Her and Copper slamming into one another, slipping on ice, the sound of her pocket tearing. Ken appearing in the bookshoppe after following her from some strange, far off place to sleepy Swynlake. Each meeting flickered through her mind like swirling snow. 

She wondered if it had been one of those strange, collective town dreams. And if so, what did it mean that she continued to dream about all of them? Dian and Copper especially, they had cropped up here or there in the last few years. Being married to Dian in that horrible Game of Thrones dream. He had looked out for her in that cruel world. Her horrible, ugly spikes that she’d been cursed with in that strange Greek dream--and how gently Copper had tended her wounds. 

In this gentle, sugar-sweet Christmas dream--it had been Ken’s arms she had been dancing in when she woke up. Which made the most sense. He was her boyfriend, after all. She hadn’t spoken to Dian more than just in passing for several months. And she hadn’t seen Copper since a few days after Halloween, when they’d gone to lunch with his mother. 

They were irrelevant.

And yet, as Isabela finally got up and moved to her vanity, she couldn’t help but wonder: why had they been in the dream at all. Why could she remember Dian’s friendly smile like she’d grown up with it? Or Copper’s hand in hers as he helped her up? 

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[link here]

Days One through Seven, from the Discord...

🎄🎄🎄.

Diabela Aesthetic: Maroon

The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me And how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was The mark you saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones The lips I used to call home, so scarlet, it was maroon

When the silence came, we were shaking blind and hazy How the hell did we lose sight of us again? Sobbin' with your head in your hands Ain't that the way shit always ends? You were standing hollow-eyed in the hallway Carnations you had thought were roses, that's us I feel you no matter what The rubies that I gave up

And I lost you

@rowsandrows-of-roses