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[ooc: So okay. Dream sequence post! If you want your pup to have a wacky dream sequence involving meeting Intuition, tag away! If you want more information about what the heck I'm talking about, ping at pythianhabenero!]

Intuition is dreaming.

For the first time since becoming human, she's dreaming as herself, properly abstract - drifting through the fantastic realms of the human subconscious, brushing up against a thought here, touching down in a familiarly unfamiliar landscape there.

Perhaps the next dream she touches will be yours.

Perhaps it won't.

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He has fairly long arms, and he's using every skinny inch of them to hold the physical her as tight as he can. (To note, the claustrophobic black of the walls are suddenly greens and pinks and sweeping blues.) He's grinning suddenly too, in a pleased sort of way. Frankly? It's an honour to help her the way she helps him, an honour.

As is being compared to someone whom Inty clearly likes -- but. In that way? The connection? Is it enough to be the best, first, but not only? --Of course, of course. She's still his, he's still hers. And he's pleased for her to have found Jack -- and to be like this again, even if it's only while her eyes are closed. That's a blessing, that she can still flit through dreams like she could through her city. (He's no longer the only...?)

"...Where?" In this world somewhere? Dragged from another, like them?

She hugs him tightly, grinning into his shirt.

(The first thing (http://community.livejournal.com/shatterverse/8965.html?thread=725509#t725509) she did when she met Jack was miss Gabriel. That's evident. It's not a matter of conscious sharing - Gabriel can see into her as clearly as she can see into him, by now. That's still something nobody else has, is it not? That link, self to self? That sharing? And yes, she'd shared with Jack in a manner that almost seems similar - but it was communication, not communion. The difference is as obvious as that between an egg timer and a grandfather clock.)

...Cue Gabriel feeling a little stupid. He's sorry for being a prone-to-jealousy doofus.

And he loves her too.

It's strange and it's natural and he hasn't given voice to it before, but he means it absolutely.

Huggles!

"I love you."

It's all right. Inty loves all of him, even his jealous doofusery.

D'aww. Huggles indeed. She can't help but blush and beam at the fact that he's said it now.

Yes, it took him slightly by surprise too. But he couldn't not say it, not here and now, and certainly not when conversation touches on the truth. She might know it already, but she deserves to hear it out loud.

"I -- thank you."

For? For everything she has done, is doing or possibly might do. For finding him, or for letting him find her. For simply being. He wants her to know how important she is.

She knows, Gabriel.

And you're just as important to her. You're hers (http://community.livejournal.com/shatterverse/8965.html?thread=726021#t726021), and she's yours. You see what she sees, as she sees it. She can share her very perceptions with you. For one who spent so much time abstract, so much time alone, it's very nearly inconceivable to have that kind of connection with anyone.

"Thank you," she returns softly.

If she got blushing from him, then he got sheer, pure happiness from her.

He still wants to thank her.

The deep shades playing across the walls? They're a sunset, quickly fading. Above them, where the ceiling was, a sky. It's cold. He's not sure h-- he's sure how, and Inty's done it too, he realises; could they do it again? --First, though, there are bangs and cracks and pops and fizzes, and coloured lights that streak across the sky.

...It's beautiful.

Inty is captivated. She leans her head back into Gabriel, curling her arms around his around her waist, and watches the spectacle, entranced.

she projects. It's not even on the level of speech anymore, just a wave of loving gratitude that curls and breaks around him, absolute and pure. Fireworks. He gave her fireworks and a sunset. Words just don't cut it.

Gabriel's captivated, too. But not by the fireworks.

It's almost like his body's moving by itself (and it's a dream, so maybe it is), he --

-- lowers his face to her scalp, down into the dancing rainbows, and --

-- rests his cheek there (it feels warm, it feels soft, it smells nice) but at an angle, almost -- he wants to --

She feels that want, of course. How could she not?

Just standing there, snuggled up to Gabriel, watching the fireworks and basking in his love, is the most wonderful thing she's ever felt.

She too, though, wishes -- if he would --

There are things even an infinite being has never done before. When she feels his want it is not only in the sense of noticing it's there. Inty shares it - reflects it, even.

Maybe there are reasons why he shouldn't. Rules. Conventions. But he can't bring any to mind right now; he doesn't want to.

Certainly there are reasons why he should. He wants to. He knows Inty wants to. (with a connection like that, mightn't they even be meant to?) That can be reason enough.

So (with the delicate care afforded to priceless and beautiful pieces whose treatment must be without flaw) he gently kisses her forehead.

Oh, that's nice, that is.

To be held and loved and treated so delicately -

If you thought Inty beamed before, this time she's so happy she honestly does glow, reds and golds and greens and blues as she tilts her face up to smile brilliantly at him before, just as gently, kissing his cheek. There's a flickering sparkle of turquoise and violet left behind for just a moment, like an evanescent lipstick-mark of light.

Gabriel hadn't thought that so much beauty could exist in one place. (Unfortunately, he himself lacks the ability to glow, in the same way that the moon can only reflect the sun.)

When she looks up to him like that, there's really only one thing to do, isn't there? Impulsive lips meet lips.

And there they are.

If Gabriel can't glow, Intuition will just have to make up for that, now won't she?

Because he's kissing her, chastely and adorably and - she turns the rest of the way around to encircle his waist with her arms, her rainbows glimmering brighter than the endless fireworks behind them, letting go of her landscape-self to be more clearly here and more clearly her because she doesn't want to miss so much as an instant of this, so much as a single flicker of a soft dark eyelash.

There might be a pause here, a self-conscious check that he's doing it right and she approves, except that he already knows the answer. And the answer is wonderful. The answer is exactly what he would hope for if he was thinking this through and not just rushing headlong down this wonderful new road that's opening up.

He almost stops breathing when her hands move. Her waist is still somewhat of a no-man's-land, so it's her back and neck that his own hands are exploring, still craftsman-careful.

Intuition closes her eyes and just is, feeling the beautiful cycle of emotion between them, his want and hers, her love and his, a single kiss like the lovemaking of gods.

It's perfect.

Which is why her traitorous body chooses that moment to wake her up. She blinks for a moment, staring over at the still-sleeping Gabriel, nothing left of her in the dream but a strong sense of love and a fading imprint of rainbow light.

And blushes heavily.

On the floor, Gabriel frowns and shifts in his sleep.

In the dream, he grasps uselessly at thin air and spins around, but she's not moved, she's not returned to the landscape, she's not anywhere in the dreamscape any more.

And the wind picks up and blows the sunbursting sky into a different, colder dream, as hard as he tries to hang onto this one.

...Aww.

She moves closer - Intuition can tell he's dreaming unhappily, even if she can't see what exactly he's dreaming about any longer -

- And it's Gabriel's turn to be gently, carefully kissed on the forehead.

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