Now, it would not be a surprise to say Golden Cheese adores you. Has for a long time, in fact.

Everyone in her kingdom (and beyond) knows that much. It is one of three things even those who'd never had the priviledge of bowing to her excellence in the flesh can readily recall about her person: one, her given name, of course; two, her (in-, to some)famous greed for all things of value; and three, that her wife is her sun, moon and stars, her jewel among jewels. There may never be a pair that loves each other quite as much or as zealously as you two had each other.

You, who were one casualty cruel fate had spared her the pain of mourning in the wake of the war, and you alone, her most priceless treasure - she at had managed to keep safe and sound. And when she shephered a new dawn for her kingdom into the digital space, she could rest just a little the easier for knowing your flesh to be untouched by time near hers, a last trapping of waking excess in a sarcophagus of gold. Even though it bore no meaning aside from sentimental, she could not keep from soothing her mind with the fact of your proximity.

So, of course, her love persists into the golden dream of her utopia, the paradise she had artisans weave of data string and code. There is nothing she wouldn't do for you, and less still she would abstain from if it earned her your company.

The early morning light is pale and lacking, just barely pushing the night shadows away -- but she already entwines her legs with yours, golden wings bent protectively to safeguard you from the sun. Her fingertips, under which she had felt the finest silks and velvets and satins the world has to offer, graze over your skin, and it'd be easier than drawing breath to say the feeling of your warmth beats any of those luxuries. Because it is true.

"Rise and shine, my treasure," she croons lowly, voice brushing the shell of your ear before her lips do - yet, she makes no move of shaking you awake in earnest: there is no rush.

You have all the time in the world.