Chapter Text
There is crooning in the air, and as it filters through, it tickles her ears. A muffled sense of surprise fills her; it is a language she never thought she’d hear again; it is still a language she doesn’t understand.
“Oh, ¿qué será?, ¿qué será?”
The world is a haze of glow, blurry and brightly translucent. Slow and lax, she breathes freely. There’s no water. Or rocks. No evaporating-like-smoke air bubbles or pain, pain, pain- no cause to reach her hand upwards as if she could claw away at something like gravity and increasing pressure.
“Que vive en las ideas de esos amantes.”
Warmth, blanket softness, and sun surrounds her, and the sensations melt away any other line of thought.
”Que cantan los poetas más delirantes”
Still, there is a certain numbness to whatever this is. She feels half disembodied, half anchored down, embalmed by something unknown.
A face appears. Long black hair, brown eyes, tanned, brown skin. The woman before her is unfamiliar, but her body instinctively wiggles with happy, trusting emotion. Meaningless noises come in a stream of babble and the woman coos in returned delight.
“Hija. My Mariana.” Those dark eyes curve, and she, Mariana, is lifted into the air.
Her mind stalls but her lips are quick to the uptake, rounding upwards as giggles arise abruptly. How odd. Her body, the woman, all claim something unreal. While her mother shares the same coloring, through the blur she can tell the figure is not her mother.
Nevertheless, the sway persists in lulling motion, tiding away cogent thought with dance and music. The closeness, the allure of sleep clings to her like the warmth of this, and her eyes swim to a soft close.