|(#TwilightRealm, #Witches, #Oakenlings, etc. belong to the lovely @LadyLeaf)
Everything went according to plan, at least as far as Brin knew, until it was time to cocoon herself so tightly and so closely within her own shields as to be unable to function. After a couple of hours, Brin would reawaken, but in the mean time, she dreamed, in a world half wish and half memory. A woman was singing, with strawberry blond hair and emerald eyes, her mother. She smelled of flowers and soap, baking flour and spices that, although they were hard to come by, always seemed to be in abundance in Ynarra's kitchen. Long, golden, comfortable days slipped by, playing in the courtyard with her two brothers, not understanding why she was mama's favorite and the boys seemed to belong with papa. Neither did young Brin seem to fit in well with the other little girls of the castle or town surrounding it. The grown women always paid mama just slightly more respect than her station would dictate.