Dreams, Elidibus has learned, come with mortal slumber. And for the most part, he has ignored them as nonsensical images. Mostly. Of course, there were a few things ingrained deep within his soul that would never be forgotten. Fire in the distance.
And a rain of fire in the sky.
As the Emissary drifts off to sleep, some hope might be found. The emotionless nature remains strong, but there is a sense that some of it is of conscious making. Some of it refusal to fall prey to emotions, this is true. But also a fight not to fall into the void and simply become nothing. Not just for the sake of everyone else, but also his own.
Is it any surprise a sense of heat and distant fire would give rise to memories of the Final Days in his dreams? Though perhaps the fleeting glimpse of watching a twisted mix of Aefenglom and a distant twist of Amaurotine towers. The rain of fire a distant scene. Elidibus turns to say something to... is that a dragon?
But the dream shifts before anything is head. Still, it might have been somewhat familiar.
Elidibus at peace with himself, surrendering to the aether fed to him, reshaping his existence into a vessel... a heart.
But deep within the amethyst void, awareness. Prayers cried out. Voices of thousands unceasing. Risen not in pleasant debate but fearful argument. They called and he answered.
It's out of order, but also the fragmented memory of the Convocation Speaker and another member, speaking to him about his dedication to duty. Still barely recognized, though Lahabrea's mask now replaces a featureless red and in that dream, Elidibus seems on the cusp of almost knowing who they were.
Yet they withdraw and vanish as he reaches out to them yet again.
Precious little of this is dreams, though undoubtedly Elidibus would call it such if asked. These instead are nightmares.
In the passage of the first several hours of the night, his host body does stir, does sweat. His mind drifts between the state of dreaming and deeper slumber, but never at rest. And not just because there is too much heat.
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Date: 9 Feb 2021 23:45 (UTC)And a rain of fire in the sky.
As the Emissary drifts off to sleep, some hope might be found. The emotionless nature remains strong, but there is a sense that some of it is of conscious making. Some of it refusal to fall prey to emotions, this is true. But also a fight not to fall into the void and simply become nothing. Not just for the sake of everyone else, but also his own.
Is it any surprise a sense of heat and distant fire would give rise to memories of the Final Days in his dreams? Though perhaps the fleeting glimpse of watching a twisted mix of Aefenglom and a distant twist of Amaurotine towers. The rain of fire a distant scene. Elidibus turns to say something to... is that a dragon?
But the dream shifts before anything is head. Still, it might have been somewhat familiar.
Elidibus at peace with himself, surrendering to the aether fed to him, reshaping his existence into a vessel... a heart.
But deep within the amethyst void, awareness. Prayers cried out. Voices of thousands unceasing. Risen not in pleasant debate but fearful argument. They called and he answered.
It's out of order, but also the fragmented memory of the Convocation Speaker and another member, speaking to him about his dedication to duty. Still barely recognized, though Lahabrea's mask now replaces a featureless red and in that dream, Elidibus seems on the cusp of almost knowing who they were.
Yet they withdraw and vanish as he reaches out to them yet again.
Precious little of this is dreams, though undoubtedly Elidibus would call it such if asked. These instead are nightmares.
In the passage of the first several hours of the night, his host body does stir, does sweat. His mind drifts between the state of dreaming and deeper slumber, but never at rest. And not just because there is too much heat.