Title: The Birth of Venus
Day/Theme: May 26th / We only come to sleep, we only come to dream
Summary: "I must ask this: are you a figment of my dreams, or am I a figment of yours?" Clow/Yuuko
A/N: admittedly I was thinking of Botticelli's version, but Bouguereau's version of The Birth of Venus is more fitting, (and I must admit I prefer it a bit)
Clow has known her long before she, or even he was born. He dreamed of her while civilizations and worlds were formed– and demolished. While empires rose and fell, she read forbidden texts and whispered them indiscernibly against his dream-self. When he woke, she would steal the words away and only leave the traces of herself. (In her esoteric mystery, a flutter of eyelashes and footprints in the threads of his mind.)
She rose out of his consciousness, dark, like the birth of Venus out of the primordial waters of his mind. Through his most lucid dreams she watched, her dresses hiked up to reveal creamy thighs and her body seemingly carved out of marble, surreal in its loveliness. She smirked at him, aware of him as he was of her, and flaunted her power. (it rested around her like a girdle of butterfly wings, iridescent and glowing in the faint starlight)
Millennia passed, and they danced like this, just beyond the edges of their dreams.
But the first words, first true words that passed between them were endless.
"I must ask this: are you a figment of my dreams, or am I a figment of yours?"