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<center>~ Sun's Warmth~ [1] </center>

The day was cool, crisp, and clear, and the bright light of morning shone through the drawn curtains to trace a line down Xander’s face. His Feien, Driesan, slept on a small bed on the dresser next to Xander’s. The entire dresser was now considered “his” – and his few possessions were strewn on it. The bed was a bed grabbed from a doll’s accessory pack. It was just the feien’s size, and two squares of fabric [velvet and cotton] cut out of Xander’s clothing made the perfect sheet and blanket. Drie was, of course, still sound asleep, snoozing lazily as his father was. When said father began to get up, and push the covers off, going to get dressed, and ready for the day, Driesan groaned, and buried his head under the pillow.
Xander emerged from the bathroom a couple moments later, fully dressed, and ready to start the day, as he always was, promptly at 6:30 AM. Drie, however, was NOT an early riser… though he supposed he best learn to be if his father was one. Only natural that his ways follow Xander’s. He could understand getting up at… oh, say… eight-ish. THAT was a reasonable time. Not o’dark-thirty in the morning when the SUN wasn’t even up yet. Speaking of which… He peeked his face out of the covers, and watched Xander sit down to write again. The man was trying to become a novelist. His book was about a boy who could read the future and past alike in the way they sun fell on the earth. It was utter nonsense, but a good read, and Drie liked sitting on Xander’s shoulder, and watching him write. Weighing the love of being with Xander… to the love of a nice warm bed… he chose Xander, and pushed the covers away, wearily casting “Flight” on himself, and joining his father.
Xander was busily letting another chapter of the book flow from his head to his hands to the pen and paper. He wrote at a decent speed, but slow enough for the feien seated on his shoulder to read. Sometimes, Xander paused to look at Drie, a smile coming across his features before he took up the pen, and started writing again. Drie read along, watching the words flow.



Driesan yawned a little as Xander let his hand drop by his side to rest it. There was not a lot he could do once he got “into” the creative mood, BUT write, draw, and paint. All of which was pretty tiring for the wrists. After a few moments of resting the wrist, Xander brought his hand up to begin writing again. Drie still felt sleepy from lack of said activity, but he read along with just as much fervor as before.



Driesan felt himself suddenly borne along with the words, as if they were living things, pulling him and twisting him around and around in a sea of ink. The world went black… then white… then silver… then gained clarity. He was laying on his back with the stern face of an older girl – but still a teen – over him. He could feel that there were wounds on his back that felt like whip-marks, and his shirt was off, and being waved in front of his face to try and cool him off.
“’Ey lazy bones! You got chores need done! What you fainting for, hmm?”
Drie got up, and brushed himself off. The sky was clear and calm, and his horse stood over him with an expression of utter confusion, so humanlike it made him and his sister alike laugh out loud. The day was going his way once, and his father wasn’t out to yell at him. Or even worse, try and ban him from the village. He knew the ways of his people, and he respected them. He just… had more of an attachment to the less sacred of times. Day. In the way his sister was laughing, it was clear she did too. A “normal” person’s laugher during the day would be scared, almost a whimper of apology to the great Sun for showing one’s face in the daylight hours. No – his people where the children of the Moon. And as her children, worshipped her, and avoided her brother, the Sun whenever possible. All of which would explain why his easy laughter, and his being out and about in the twice-bright sun, was getting him looks of mistrust and disbelief. Not that their looks ever said much of anything else.
“We’ve got to get back home, Lesi… or else dad’s going to have YOUR head, and my…”
She smacked him upside the head before he could say another word.
“That’s QUITE enough out of you, young man.”
What he had been about to say WAS vulgar and crude, but it wouldn’t have been far from the truth his dad had a way with… things.
“If you don’t get off your scrawny behind, and get home, not only is dad going to have our body parts, but mom’s going to throw a fit the size of the full moon. And you KNOW everyone’s going to know if she does.”
Drie gave it to his sister. She knew how to threaten. He sighed, and rose to his feet, trudging back towards the house with a heavy heart. He wasn’t looking forward to even MORE of his father’s tedious chores. He was sure the man gave them to him just to keep the boy out of his hair. A depressing thought.
Outside, the sun shone in a fierce light, bathing the lands below it with the heat of its anger…

Driesan awoke, perched on Xander’s shoulder. That had been almost TOO real! Thank whoever runs the show that it had only been a dream. Watching Xander write had pulled his imagination along with the flow of the book, and sent him into a dreamscape where the book and it’s characters and concepts, were very real. And Drie had been playing the part of Keldar, the main character. That in itself was only understandable, as he couldn’t possibly have know what was going on in other characters’ heads – only the one that Xander chose to write about. Xander didn’t even appear to have realized that his feien had fallen asleep. Or maybe he had. Driesan didn’t know any of this. All he knew was that he was still tired.. and “chores” were waiting to be done in his dreamscape. If his dreams were going to center around Xander’s characters in the book, then so be it. He yawned, and leaned against Xander’s neck, slipping off into the land of the Moon-worshippers again, dreaming of fantastic adventures that had LESS to do with “chores” – and more to do with heat and the sun.

Xander studied his sleeping son for a moment, and let a light smile play on his lips. Carefully, he got up, and walked back to the feien’s “bed”, transferring Driesan from his shoulder to the bed, and pulling up his covers around his shoulders. Poor, tired little thing. He’d let him sleep for a bit. He had nowhere to go, and his book needed writing. He scooped up the journal he had been using to write in, and a spare pen, moving back to his OWN bed, and writing there. Looking over and checking Drie every once in a while to make sure he wasn’t having a nightmare.