The tiniest mistakes. // oakensteeled
Dreams were the worst.
It was when Billy had once woke up in a strange, grotesque version of Alice in Wonderland that he had discovered just how bad his magic could get. How his thoughts ran freely at night and his magic was out of control and he was keen on exploring. On chasing down dreams even when they escaped into the rabbit holes. He never doubted his sanity before, but being awake and at the same time asleep was something he never truly understood - a sign of instability, madness.
And there it was again, chasing dreams, distant stories as he slept. Faces blurred and his magic tingling at the edges of his conscience as he wished, truly wished to enter worlds he was dreaming of, see the planes of soldiers and pink sunset on the stone walls, see the sea of gold and fire. He longed for it so much that something grabbed onto him, blue light cracking around his body, and a portal opened, a black hole under his bed, and he was falling into it, rapidly descending through space until he came spiraling into the light, saw the marble walls rush past him and hard stone ground approach, and it was a burst of magic later that he found himself hovering on a barrier saving him from what would be a painful, painful landing. And then, he saw boots at his head, saw them turn into short legs and blocky bodies and beard-covered armors, and his breath got cut off.
"You have got to be kidding me."
