Trust dreams. Trust your heart, and trust your story.

[smallestopener]

Ingress had a brilliant birthday. She’s eleven. Eleven is nearly grown up! It’s also the year when children in the stories she’s read come into their own. Adventures begin, schooling starts, worlds are saved… she can hardly wait to see what will happen next.

Her party earlier was such fun. Door was almost nice to Puck; Ingress had worried a little about that after she invited him. But he was very nice and charming, and Tom was nice, too, and Puck helped Ingress steal lots of roses off the cake while Havelock talked to Tom and Door, and it was brilliant.

She ate far too much icing sugar, but Tom had the peppermint potion waiting for her when the party was over. She feels much better now. And she’s eleven!

It sounds so good in her head. Eleven, eleven, eleven.

She should have asked Mary to stay the night with her, she thinks, as she tosses and turns. She’s never going to fall asleep, even with staying up past her bedtime. Tom and Door insisted she go to bed after she started yawning. They can be so silly sometimes.

She tosses one more time, and she thinks, again, how impossible it will be to go to sleep tonight. Her eyelids flutter and close. It is not long before she’s deep in dreams.

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[youowemeafavor]

Though she might not see it in the darkness, he raises one eyebrow, all skepticism, and sets his hands on his hips.

"You see butterflies? And do you suppose these butterflies are without shadows themselves?"

It's a question with value, and one worth exploring. Angels aren't the only beings who can be deceptive.

[smallestopener]

"Raven gave them to me," she explains. "They fly true."

There is enough certainty in her voice and in her manner that there is no doubt for her that this is the case.

In dreams, sometimes surety is what helps you navigate the nightmares best.

"I know this." She places her hand on her heart. "I know here."

[youowemeafavor]

"And a heart never lies." It's not a question, but a statement of fact. Thoughtful now, he taps a finger against his lower lip, sending the trailing sleeves of his shirt fluttering in the night's stillness.

It's time.

"Do you need an escort through the darkness, Lady Ingress?" Now he leans to whisper into her ear. "I'm beholden to Lord Portico." His voice is soft; no one else gets to hear about his debts or about those who owe him favors. That's a good portion of London Below. He's been offering his assistance -- in exchange for favors -- for a very long time.

[smallestopener]

She almost nods her head yes, glad of the help. But this is her bridge. It's her story. She has to go alone.

In the light of the torch, she can just make the glimmer of a purple wing fluttering above the bridge.

"Thank you, Marquis, for your offer. I, and those of my House, appreciate it. I must go on by myself. Perhaps there will be another time when we can go together."

She turns, a small figure in gleaming white, and walks towards the bridge. She holds the torch as she would a sword.