[Morpheus watches from his new perch, eventually hopping down to wander quietly into the stables. An ear flicks as he views the exchange between the two — so this is Arthur’s mother. A clear fondness there, between mother and child, and he is glad to see it. This is a happy dream, and though he has tread across nighttime reveries of many mortals in the past, these are the sort that warms him.
In a bittersweet kind of way.
He walks over to them, a slow saunter, and meows again. Sits, looks up at the crinkling bag of ribbon, tail flicking.]
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In a bittersweet kind of way.
He walks over to them, a slow saunter, and meows again. Sits, looks up at the crinkling bag of ribbon, tail flicking.]