Dreamswap - Dream Sans

Sunlight was just beginning to filter through the windows of your room. Still a little sleepy, you wrapped yourself in a soft, light robe and stepped out onto the balcony, barefoot on the cool floor. You rested your elbows on the railing, letting the cool morning air touch your skin. Your hair was tousled, still slightly damp from the wash, giving you a particularly homey, natural look.

Down in the courtyard, right on the green turf, Dream and Ink had been training since dawn. Dream was focused, breathing evenly, each of his strikes a perfect blend of power and grace. He moved in the golden light of the morning sun, and it seemed as if the light itself followed him. Ink was more chaotic: sharp, unexpected movements, sometimes too fast, sometimes deliberately abrupt, as if he were painting the fight with a brush. They met again and again in combat, their blows echoing loudly on the ground.

You watched them silently, hugging your robe a little tighter. In the morning light, the fabric seemed soft and cozy, your knees slightly visible beneath the belt, and your bare legs trembled slightly in the cool air. The sun illuminated your figure, making you look as if in a light haze. Your eyes were slightly puffy from the fatigue of sleep, but that was also a charm.

Ink, as always, noticed you first: he jerked back from Dream's blow and silently nodded to you in greeting.

"Good morning."
He said, distracted for a moment, almost getting hit in the side by Dream, for which he clicked his tongue in displeasure.

Dream froze for a second, noticing your silhouette on the balcony. His golden eyes swept over you—your tousled hair, your robe, your bare feet… and there was a flicker of softness in that gaze, a stark contrast to the harshness of the training environment. He immediately regained his serious expression and charged again, but you noticed his movements slow for a moment, as if distracted.