i'd rather eat dirt

---

@Cassian

Since she'd been back within the Vale, it was hard to sleep, that she was sure. Whether it was nightmares of what she'd endured or the echoes of what she'd lost, Vanille was the bug trapped within a web. Squirming only made it worse, and it was this night that she simply stopped fighting.

Dreams held her captive within an instant, breathing into her the whispers of what could've been had she not been taken. Had she remained as the frail healer, sweet and shy. It was as terrifying as being awake. As being alive.

The ground was softer when she woke, warmer beneath her head. Instead of the snow that swept across the ground in sheets, it was green and spotted with color. Green. How long had it been since she'd seen true grass, healthy and green grass? It practically sang to her as she brushed tan paws across its surface, whispering its sweet touches against the pad.

The woman pulled herself into a soft upright position, her forepaws holding the front of her body up while the rest warmed beneath the sun's attention. The land was so at odds with what she'd grown into, the cold and harsh terrain stepping down to let something more thrilling rise. It was beautiful, serene in a way even a woman of ice could appreciate.

So quiet aside from the gentle symphonies overhead, birds singing their declarations of love amidst a warmly hued sky. Was she alone?

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The dream was pristine. Drizzled with delicacies she wasn't privy to in the colder seasons and void of the stress and strife that consumed her consciousness, Vanille drank it in with greed. Then it was as if the world cracked around her, shattering with a voice she'd only managed to escape within her dreams. Cassian would be the death of her. His haughty grin and god-complex would haunt her even when she found herself buried six feet deep within the snow. Could she maim him in this dream? Fulfill all her empty promises without leaving a kingdom without its king?

She let the thought guide her gaze to him, her tail sweeping across the backs of her legs. “And here you are, mingling with my dreams enough to make them nightmares.” She did not wish to deal with him even while she slept. Some reprieve was needed. Anything.

Her gaze lingered on him, taking in the contrast of his pelt against the softness around them. He was made for the cold. This place, things that felt alive, it dulled him—made him small in a way only she could realize. He was carved from ice, and he was the beacon that thawed everyone else around him. Or, she supposed, he used to be. She didn't know who he was now. —if it was even worth questioning.

Perhaps he was stronger just as she. Perhaps it was Vanille that simply clung to the view of him she was used to, the person that was good and kind. Vanille had grown colder—stronger—but her compassion hadn't diminished, her respect dished out to others still. Whoever Cassian claimed to be, whoever he was actively trying to be now, it was pathetic in her eyes. A dream where he looked at her like...like she was worth seeing...That wouldn't change anything.

Vanille pulled herself upright with a begrudging sigh. She might as well spend her dream doing something. Anything more than witnessing the thoughts bleeding from a weak-minded man driving with what lay between his legs. She might just find herself swept into the haze of lust out of sheer desperation alone if she didn't find herself a distraction. Let her drown in regret when she woke.

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---

there were things he wanted to say. things he wanted to confess to the one who glared at him with burning contempt. and it bothered him. sure, he'd been harsh when she'd returned, but weren't his feelings valid? was he not allowed to hurt? barred from the sudden surge of emotions he'd kept in check for the months since she'd gone?

and seeing her in his dream only served as a sign to the prince. maybe it was a chance for him to tell her things he couldn't dream of saying when he was awake. he wanted to bare his soul to her, offer his heart on a silver platter and let her do what she wanted with it. he'd even let her follow through with her threats if it'd change the way she looked at him. but dealing with things like emotions was not his strong suit, no matter how much he thought it was.

cassian couldn't help the soft chuckle that escaped him. “are you sure this is your dream?” he asked as he casually came to her side. “because i do believe this is my dream.” and my greatest desire.

cass wished she'd stop hating him. stopped looking at him like he was the scum of the earth when they'd both changed. it simply wasn't fair. he hated how he still reacted to the sound of her voice. hated how his heart would stutter when she spoke. hated how it felt like it'd stop when she said his name.

“i'm... sorry. for everything.” he murmured, head turned away to look at the green hills. cass refused to meet her gaze, afraid of what he'd see in her eyes. disgust, hatred, nothing.

---

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Barely, was she able to keep herself composed. As much as she was steadfast in her capability of keeping quiet, his own capability of crawling beneath her skin was as stubborn and headstrong as ever. Persistent. Eating away at her defenses until she was open and raw, tender beneath his words' caress or lash. How was she to befriend him again, to ever feel at ease even amidst her dreams? When he cast his judgment and belittled all that she'd endured in her absence. How was she to accept him into her arms—into her heart—when at the first sign of his feelings being scraped, he was quick to stab and shove?

How was she to fall apart for him again? How could she even begin to want to?

“You dream of me often?” The reply was quick and light as she followed his movements, wary as he approached. She couldn't discern the truth from fantasy, reality from all her mind conjured. Whether he spoke of only that she wished to hear, or that of what was pulled from what she knew of him, Vanille couldn't be sure. More than that, why could she not? Why did she feel so muddled, so profound in every feeling when it came to him? He enraged her. She hated him. She hated him.

More than that, he was her friend. However long ago that might've been. It was what gave her cause to listen to his muttered words, his attempt at reconciliation. And though she wished to, she could not help it, “An apology means nothing if you are not looking to me. Do you seek gratitude and forgiveness amidst the green hills?” For a man so confident, whatever dream she'd conjured of him fell short.

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