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A/N:'nother section of this future-fic continuation...let's backtrack to shortly after the end of the Refugee Crisis...plunnied thanks to Aya's SomethingWeird'sGoingOn Crack Roll Call.
Word Count: 800 words


It had been 9 months since the Refugee Crisis had ended. The Worlds had been restored as the Refugees had wished, but some things had changed. Ryune was a cross-worlds ambassador. Gummi ships and Gumdams had become a cross-world transportation system and traveled freely across the worlds, with the usual security precautions. Earth had established the Heartless Defense Force, just in case action should be needed again. For there must always be a darkness to oppose light. And, RefugeeNet still remained intact, though it had become something more akin to a Reunion Group Messageboard...similar to a cross-universe Refugee version of FaceBook or Classmates.Com.

Emmy logged into her account, and found two PMs in her inbox--one dated a week earlier to which she had already replied that said quite simply, "I found him."

And another from three days ago that she had not read, that was a little longer and made her heart soar with pride and wonder.

"Thank you for the reading material so long ago. With...my bird's help, we did it, we think... You were right. It is easier to stick to dreams for the time being...While so few can see the way we do....Would you like to attempt to dream with us...to see the white-gold citadel?"

She typed a reply, biting her lip to keep from screaming yes, since she was at the local tech center's installfest, breaking from her own demonstration of software installation on Ubuntu, to watch one on keyboard shortcuts, which she'd always had trouble with.

"Yes...Always. For few ever get to see Timeheart as they grow older. I'll bring my spoke to your wheel and we'll make this an Art. For dreams are Art in its purest form."

Later that evening, she locked the door of her own room. Something her parents still disliked her doing, though it made her feel safe in her dreams.

She closed her eyes, forcing the waves of relaxation.
Imagining her dreaming...her own world created and made new. The characters in her mind as real...both separate and one in her. Feeling them create the world, with their own dreams, melding them into one beautiful circle village with a circle of roses along the walls. Then...she made one change... "I want to see the Citadel. I want to see the meetingplace."

Ever so faintly, she heard the lilting sound of a flute and in the feeling of fading back over her own body the power of the Crow she channeled, she saw a pattern in the paths of her village--it was a china garden with 7 moon-gates--with a troytown path throughout. Looking down at herself, she was wearing a flowing gypsy gown...and by instinct and a memory of a story, she followed the sound of the flute, dancing, following the swirling path, letting the music guide her. Left turn, right turn, a counterclockwise spin, and another left. Then a right, and a clockwise spin. The dance continued until she came to the seventh gate. And she smiled, looking through the moon-gate at the white-gold city in the distance. "Seven, the number of completion, all too fitting," she murmured as she looked at the plaque by the Gate, reading aloud the inscription underneath the etched 7, "'In dreams, we find our reality.'" She took a deep breath, "No matter how long I wish to stay, I am going to have to end the dream, eventually. 'It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.' But...I can visit, always." She stepped forward through the gate into the city that is and was. The City of Always. The place of Hope...of Dreams. Of knowledge...and of Completion.

She couldn't stop smiling as she looked around, wonder and pleasure filling every part of her being. She spun around in circles, arms out. Feeling every bit a child in this place.

And then...there was laughter. She grinned, smiling as she turned to find two people. The one once called Xemnas...and the Songbird.

There were no words to explain what she felt. Of that she was sure. So...instead, she danced. The soft leather flats on her feet were used just well enough to cope as dance slippers. Smooth grace traced her steps, soft angles and flourishes. She knew Song would recognize some of the motions from the movie she had said was too painfully similar to her own experiences.

And softly she stepped forward from her promenade, making the "care to dance with me?" motion Princess Tutu often used, offering both her hands to the two dreamers in her audience. It was then that she found words... "I would like to see this. Care to give me a tour?"
==
to be continued next time. :D

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