The man slumbered, as he had for many years, so many, he was not aware of how much time had passed since he was imprisoned, every once in a while he was conscious enough to dream, but they were few and far in between. The young man despaired because of his beauty. Oh, why hadn't he been born like normal peasants? Why had he been a rose growing between bushes of daisies? Was he going to slumber for all eternity? The man did not know. The only option he had, was wait.
Once, in one of his rare dreams, he was not alone for once, for he could've sworn he saw fleeting azuline eyes, and wheat colored hair. Before he could find out what had happened, he was slumbering blankly again.
He was startled the next time he was “awake”, for it seemed to be but days when he had dreamed the last time. He found himself in a small meadow his mind had never created, and was surprised by the scenery. There was another person besides him.
Pipit got closer, the person, this man, seemed to be rest