Winter Born

[Ken's set the Dreamberry up against a book; he's slumped opposite it, chin resting on one wrist. The picture is slightly crooked, and he reaches out to steady the screen.

[Then he glares at it, as if it personally has done him some grave disservice.]

So, these dream... post things. What right have we got to be seeing this stuff?

[I'm looking at you, Dreamberry. Ken glares a bit more, then sighs.]

This ain't TV, right? It's... someone else's head in here. It's private and this thing's dishing it up like it was a stupid drama or something and it's - you're all, why not watch it if it's there? Like TV. And everyone does it and it starts seeming so normal and... and what the Hell's with that, why's that supposed to be okay now just because it's everywhere and--

Look, I'm not saying I'm better than anyone else, I do it too and I don't know why I ever figured it was just fine to, it's not a show and... and... Damn, I hate this place!

[And off.]

Warnings: Spoilers of a not exactly critical nature for the fifth episode of a ten-year-old anime series. Head canon. Nowhere near as angsty as the title might imply.
Dream Effects: A mixture of happiness, regret and love.


( 'Do you enjoy being a florist?' )

[Ken smiles in his sleep, turning onto his side and knocking the Dreamberry to the floor, where the recording cuts off. He doesn't wake up, so doesn't notice that the small cut flower on his nightstand is glowing faintly.]

[Filtered from Weiss]

[Ken, wearing a blue apron, is standing in what appears to be the stockroom of Nectar.]

So...

[He hesitates for a moment, gazing around himself apprehensively, clearly worried he might be overheard. When he turns back to the screen, he closes his eyes briefly and takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself for something.]

What would it take to make you decide you couldn't be yourself any more?