Dream On

The memorial gardens are a beautiful place. It's easy to forget that it's still winter here. Surrounded by the verdant growth of plants, and the vaguely warm atmosphere, it's simply a comfortable and comforting place to be. Today is no exception. In fact, it is especially pleasant today. There's not a single sign of snow or ice, the sun is high in the sky and an occasional breeze carries not winter chill, but the scent of the flowers in full bloom to those that wander the district.

Mikilos wanders indeed. The wizard frequently takes trips through the garden, able to get some fresh air and exercise, continue his readings, and not worry too much about walking into anything overly dangerous while not fully paying attention.

Skielstregar has been in the city more often as of late, having to lend a hand at the Defense, as well as continual checkups that he didn't carry the Plague ("Thisss one's ssscalesss do that! They promissse!")

So, it's not too uncalled for that a three quarter silverscale and quarter bronzescale was milling about the gardens, a light smile on his face as he looks at everything. "... aww... winter isss ending sssoon..." he quietly sighs, thinking about the coming spring.

"Pothy, please, don't fly too far away from me," Ravenstongue complains as she walks into the gardens. Pothy flies overhead, barrel rolling in the air like he just doesn't care.

(And really, he might not. Unless snacks are involved, which they aren't... yet.)

Ravenstongue pauses as she looks up at the flowers in bloom and smiles. "Spring's coming, finally, huh," she says to herself. "Tel will be happy. So will Grandfather, I think." She pauses for a moment longer before she calls up to Pothy, "Hey! Come on down so I can feed you a snack already."

"SNACK?" Pothy calls out, immediately diving down to land onto Ravenstongue's shoulder. He is a creature of simple needs.

Seyardu was enjoying her time for prayer in the garden district as she often did, and this time, she had company in the form of her brother. The silver cleric chuffs at the disappointment, and she pauses to speak. "There are still some months left. But the farmers need to start growing food again, so it needs to happen."

She turns a moment to watch the raven, and chuckles a bit. "And animals need to be able to forage for food again. Not all places have gardens such as this."

There's a woman walking through the gardens, just as all of you are. She's an elvish woman, in mithral armor with a plain white talabard over it. Her padding where it's visible is also white. The silver sheen of her armor shines brightly in the noon sun, and her beauty is remarkable. Long silver-white hair adorns her head and carries down her shoulders. Silvery eyes roam over the gardens with warmth an pleasure. She moves gracefully toward Skeilstregar, offering him a smile. "Seyardu is right, winter is not _quite_ over yet."

Her eyes trace over to Pothy and her smile broadens. "But such is the nature of the world, that time marches ever on."

She talks to him in a familiar way, as if they are friends, or at least know one another. In fact, she _seems_ familiar. Like someone who he's met before but can't quite remember where they've encountered one another. This is a sensation which anyone who views her will note.

Mikilos perks at the raven's call, unsurprised, and reads a few moments more before putting his book away. Nodding politely to the assorted familiar faces, the wizard pauses upon the last, frowning mildly. "Good day miss, I do apologize, but I'm currently blanking on your name."

Skielstregar rumbles a chuckle, and sighs. "Thisss one isss aware, they jussst enjoyed being in the sssnow isss all."

His dead silver gaze tracks the elvish woman. Then... tilts his head to the side. "Y... Yesss, not over yet," he says, scratching a patch of bronze on his face that turns to dusty flecks. He was... trying to wrack his brain for whoever this was. He didn't know many elves.

He glances to Pothy and Ravenstongue, him affording them a wave. "Peassse," he greets belatedly, caught off guard by this person.

Pothy looks at the pretty elf lady. He cocks his head and looks at Ravenstongue for a long moment before he whistles to her.

Ravenstongue raises a brow in response to Pothy. "Umm, no, I don't think you know her, Pothy... Well, maybe? Ma'am, I'm sorry, but my familiar thinks he knows you--actually, wait, do you go to the marketplace? That might be where we know you from." She purses her lips together in thought, seeming to be thoroughly puzzled.

But she offers Seyardu and Skielstregar a wave and a smile, as well as the archmage Mikilos. These are people that she /does/ remember.

Seyardu waves to the elf, not thinking too much of any faint memories. She saw plenty of people at the temple on any given day, after all. "Peace on your nest, and this one hopes the day finds you well. Time will continue on, and it our task to simply make the best of it, however that may be."

The woman's smile turns on Mikilos as he approaches. "I am ---." She says something, but it's as if it skips your ears entirely and the knowledge of her name evaporates into the warm day. She seems to be unaware or perhaps merely unbothered by the fact that her name doesn't come from her mouth. Instead she twists her hand and there's a snack in her hand. A particular Pothy favorite in fact. "Of course I know Apotheosis. And you Cor'lana."

She looks at Skielstreagar warmly once again. "It pleases me to see that your scales are coming in nicely. My friend told me how important it was to you, and it does seem as though they make you happy."

She looks off into the distance and sighs. "Seems there's a storm in the future. You should all be careful."

Mikilos meets with a fey Queen on a semi-regular basis. Has fed some sort of powerful creature that looks like a baby dragon but eats far more than it's apparent body weight. Weird beings are not unfamiliar. And so while the wizard frowns in consideration, he nods his thanks. "Always a storm somewhere in the future, but good to be extra prepared when a big one is coming soon."

Skielstregar blinks. A pinky digs into his ear hole as he makes there wasn't any snow in there or anything.

Some snow tumbles out. ".. oops. Ssssorry, thisss one didn't catch that."

He stands up a bit straighter, his brows knitting together. A smile gracing his maw, but confusion growing in his eyes. "Oh! Erm, t.. thank you. Thisss one iss glad they are coming in, and ssso vividly. It hasss certainly helped thisss one's confidence. But... your friend.., er, wait, have we met before?" he asks in perplexion before looking up to the sky.

Sniff sniff. "... thisss one seesss no storm," he simply observes. As, well, he is simple man.

Pothy's feathers all puff up as he spots an incredible and wonderful delicacy: a bright-blue fruit that vaguely reminds one of an apple, yet a bit... lumpier, and a tad smaller. He whistles again before he says, "Snack! Snack! SNACK! SNACK!!!" He flies to the elf lady's hand and takes the fruit entirely in his mouth before flying back to Ravenstongue's shoulder to enjoy this strange fruit, making /very/ happy raven croaks as he begins to eat it.

"What even is that?" Ravenstongue asks Pothy quietly. The bird responds with another whistle, which makes Ravenstongue rolls her eyes. "Okay. Keep your secrets," the half-elf says, before she looks at the lady with another long pause.

Her eyes look out into the distance and she raises a brow. "There's hardly any clouds out in the--oh. You mean the metaphorical sort of thing, don't you? Grandfather speaks in the same way sometimes."

Ravenstongue smiles. "If you can tolerate the bird puns, that is."

"Well, the weather can changes fairly quickly, depending on various things." Seyardu nods, finally leaving where she was sitting. "Unless you speak of metaphorical storms, which can be equally unpredictable. You can not speak your name, which leads me to believe there is more going on than concerns about the weather. Though if you had a hand in helping my brother, then I must thank you profusely, for that."

"Then you should prepare for it well." She says somewhat cryptically, then turns her warmth on Skielstregar again. "We've met after a fashion. I like to keep an eye on things."

This makes her laugh and her laugh is like a bonfire. Warm and tingling through your skin. A song that comforted you as a child. The sound fades off, but the feel of it lingers and she smiles at Pothy. "I know it's a favorite of yous. I believe you last received one from Nadina. But that was some time ago." She seems almost sad briefly, but it's a fleeting thing for which you are grateful for her sadness is like the cool edge of winter brushing against your skin for a moment. She turns her eyes on Seyardu and smiles again. Bringing back the warmth. "It was not really me, but her gift."

"As for the storm, you may not see it yet, but it comes. It will be a storm in a very physical sense, but yes... Also metaphorical." She glances toward the horizon once more and sighs. "I should be on my way." A fine dusting of sand skitters along the ground, carried on the wind.

Mikilos considers more, but nods. "Then fare well in your departure, and return in joy when the time is right."

Skielstregar cants his head faaar to the other side. "We've... met? Oh. Erm. Thisss one isss sssorry if we met in, um, lesss than ideal circumsstances," he rumbles, rubbing at one of his fangs as he glances to his sister for some comfort.

Laughter eases his tension, and he looks back on to the mysterious elf.

That tidbit to Seyardu makes him blink twice. "... her... gift?"

The poor man's brain was churning pretty hard right now. "Oh. Well, um thank you for your warning. Peassse on your nessst."

"You knew my mother?" Ravenstongue asks, her eyes widening. She certainly does feel the chill of the woman's sadness, judging by how her hands shiver for a moment--but one has to wonder if it's really from that or the revelation.

"Please, you can't just leave--I have questions, I..." Ravenstongue finds herself pleading, tears already coming to brim up in her eyes. But Pothy doesn't share in her plight. He's eating his fruit and enjoying it even as his mistress is suddenly flailing with her emotions.

The half-elf's hands grip together tightly, her fingers interlocking together into a ball. "There's so much I don't know," she whispers.

Seyardu blinks, and then she sighs. "Well, whatever part you had in it, thank you, and thank you for the warning." She states, waving to the strange figure. "Though you should stay and speak to Ravenstongue, if you have the time. I am sure she would be happy to hear more from you about what you can share."

The woman looks at Ravenstongue, as if for all the world she wishes she could answer the questions there. "I would stay, but... there is more you must see, and the answers you seek are not mine to give you." She reaches out, touching each of you in turn on the shoulder. The hand. Even Pothy gets a pet on his little head. She walks past Mikilos, and disappears into the garden. Leaving you alone with your questions unanswered and it feels... different without her here.

Then suddenly the storm is upon you, wind whipping at your clothes as it rises in the distance. A massive force of wind and sand. It's too hot suddenly, the summer's sun beating down on you where there was only cool warmth before. The wind twists and turns and from behind Mikilos a massive black dragon rises from the sand you're standing on.

Where are the gardens? Where is Alexandria? You do not know, but you know death when you see it. The dragon is huge. Far more monstrous and far more fearsome than any of its kind which you have ever seen before.

GAME: Skielstregar rolls will: (6)+2: 8
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Will: (20)+6: 26 (CRITICAL SUCCESS)
GAME: Mikilos rolls will: (9)+17: 26

Mikilos has seen death before, in a great many forms. That doesn't mean novel versions are welcome. On a deep, rational level, he KNOWS this can be overcome. But on a practical level? Kinda hard to keep his teeth from chattering. "G-greetings, dark one." Might have been more polite in Draconic, but the elf is a bit off his game at the moment.

Skielstregar nods lightly as the elf is touch and go. People are always so busy with many errands to run. Then he feels off. "... hmm... thisss one thinkss they need t-"

Sand. Heat. Wind. Sun. Overbearing warmth.

Slowly, he turns, like a statue grinding on granite.

The massive makari squeaks. "T-T-T-The..."

He wants to run away, but can't. He wants to get to the front, but can't.

Trembling and shaking on the spot, he shifts where he blocks his sister from the massive, hulking being. If there was a swipe of a talon, hopefully his self would blunt enough of it to keep his sister safe. Tinges of necromantic ichor leak from betwixt his scales.

Ravenstongue stares down the dragon, her violet eyes boring holes through the creature. She does not falter, the tears spilling down her cheeks as they threatened to do. Her hands separate and ball up into fists at her sides.

"...You aren't running from me. You aren't hiding behind dragons and you aren't hiding behind illusions. I know my mother is /dead/!" Ravenstongue screams, her eyes and nostrils flaring wide as she screams the last word. "I know she loved me! I know she modified my memories to protect me from what she thought was a monster and I know that Pothy was passed down to me--but I don't know how she died! I don't even know her last name! I don't know /why/ she decided she would leave me *all alone*! And there's no mortal alive who could possibly answer those questions, so if you know, ANSWER ME!"

"Sheesh," Pothy says to Ravenstongue's demands. He takes a look at the dragon... And he keeps eating his nice treat. Ravenstongue's got this handled, probably.

Seyardu flinches as the world shifts and the elf disappears, and seeing the massive dragon that comes out of the ground itself. And Skielstregar moves in front of her, she grunts and moves instead in front of them, doing her best to hide what fear was obvious.

"Honored servant of the gods, we mean you know harm, and know not how we got here to begin with. Please do not mind us, and we will on our way shortly."

GAME: Seyardu rolls diplomacy: (17)+21: 38
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Intimidate: (16)+4+1: 21

The hulking dragon does not seem to notice you - yet. It points to the sky where the moon is being covered by darkness. It speaks, and though the words are in draconic you can understand the growling hissing language. "The storm comes, and the Nightmare rises." Red eyes turn down and you realize that the dragon can _see_ you. Which is somehow more terrifying than the fact that it exists in the first place. It turns specifically on Ravenstongue. One claw reaches out toward her slowly. "HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO US IN SUCH A WAY."

Mikilos is... mildly surprised past his fear... for a moment, at least. "To act poorly in rage and anger? Would think you of all would be familiar with such."

GAME: Mikilos rolls diplomacy+1: (9)+20+1: 30

Skielstergar is a bit too busy screaming in his skull to understand the deeper meanings and what nots of what is going on. And then Mikilos turns the dragon's words back around on them as Seyardu takes over blocking for him.

He's trembling, but he puts a hand on the flail tucked into his belt. "... t-thiss... one..." he weakly tries to say, jaw clattering. A glance to his sister, and he tries to right himself. "T-Take care, o' dragon, to not blot out all the- um- moon, elssse the Father won't be to kind to hisss daughter going dim."

"I don't even know /who/ you are." Ravenstongue stands still, completely not afraid of this dragon even as it raises a claw at her. She doesn't take a single step back. Her fists are still balled up at her sides, and her voice drops to a calmer register. "If you're a benevolent god, spirit, what-have-you, then shouldn't you care for people's suffering? When someone asks you for answers and they're hurting, should you really respond like that? Navos wouldn't. Navos would answer me. He would give me what I need to know and he would ease my pain."

"Navos," Pothy echoes. His tail feathers shake up and down like a bright dog's tail as the pup hears someone mention the name of their owner.

"I understand there's nightmares and you're trying to scare me," Ravenstongue replies, the tears still streaming down her face. "My nightmare follows me into the waking world, because my mother's gone and no one can help me. /Please./"

GAME: Skielstregar rolls intimidate+1: (10)+10+1: 21

Seyardu does not know what to make of what is going on, and she is still scared, clearly, but she shakes her head at the obvious threat. "Please excuse Ravenstongue, she has had information brought to her that is of great importance, and been told it was someone else who must answer. This nightmare sounds important as well, but personal goals are just as important to many."

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Diplomacy+1: (20)+8+1: 29
GAME: Seyardu rolls diplomacy: (7)+21: 28

The dragon seems to consider these words. All of them. It glowers at Ravenstongue. "I am not Navros. I AM ---." The wind seems to tear the name away. Leaving only silence in its wake. Yet you have the impression suddenly that this dragon and the woman are not the same individual. "It is not I that turns the moon dark, but the Nightmare which comes."

It turns its red eyes on Ravenstongue again and seems to consider. "If you served me, I could answer you." It leans toward the demanding woman, it's red eyes blinking. There's a stench to the dragon this close. The smell of enclosed spaces. The smell of hopelessness. "Or perhaps I will tell you... SOMETHING."

Suddenly the dracon reaches out and taps Ravenstongue on the head with its claw.

Mikilos is too slow, but steps to move between the dragon and the half-elf. "...some knowledge is not worth the cost." Spoken as much to himself as to Ravenstongue.

Skielstregar is still trembling in his spot, trying to appear confident and utterly failing at it. The words shared are heard, but not listened to at the present moment. His brows knit slightly, him clutching his Dragonfather amulet tightly. There'd be only one dragon he'd serve, and the thought of being under something that reeked hopelessness and claustrophobia was not one he wanted to venerate. He opens his mouth to say something, probably another squeak, "-”

Claw claw claw claw!

He flails at Ravenstongue, reaching out towards the half-sil to yank her back, but, alas, he was too far.

It's the lightest of taps, and yet the metaphorical weight that falls onto Ravenstongue's shoulders is immense, as the half-elf just crumples to the ground, her shoulders heaving as she sobs. Her hands clamped tightly to her face, dampening her wails.

Eventually, she squeaks out something. "I... I didn't... Mother, you didn't have to... Why did you... He wasn't going to hurt me, Mother; he loved me like you did. You could have... You could have lived..."

Finally, Pothy seems to have an opinion on the whole matter. He looks up at the dragon from his roost on Raven's shoulder and whistles to it. Just a little whistle in the whimpers that come from his mistress.

Seyardu was still trying not to flee as she faced the dragon, for the sake of the others there with her. It was taking everything to not leave right that moment.

And certainly not when it was approaching Ravenstongue as it did, leaving her sobbing on the ground. "Then what hand have you in this? Why come to warn us, after what just happened? You must have some purpose. And you should apologize for what information you have given Ravenstongue."

The dragon looks calmly at Seyardu. "If the Nightmare comes, the worlds will end." There's a distant expression on its face. Unreadable, and then the dragon glares at Pothy. It breathes - in. The pull of sand and wind is enough to scoot you closer to the beast. "No, I am not." Says the dragon mysteriously, and then it BREATHES. Acid black as night and thick as tar sprays forth from its throat and rains down upon you all. There is no hope of escaping it. There is no running far or fast enough in the time you are given.

Yet the fall of blackness doesn't hurt. It rains down and covers the sky. The earth. It weighs down on your body until finally...

You wake up.

Safe and secure in your own bed, but with the memory of the dream in your mind a thing you can not forget. It was too real. Too solid.

Mikilos is almost more disoriented waking up in bed. Takes a few moments to recall where that is, he uses it so seldom. Still, the Vision, as he currently thinks of it, stays fresh in his mind. Will need find the others, be sure the experience was actually shared.

Skielstergar gasps as his rooted position is brought closed towards the beast. He was not a smart man, but everyone knew that a big breath coming in meant a big breath coming out. He grabs for Seyaardu, trying to yank her back and behind him as he taps into that Forgotten half of him. "SEY-

Gasp.

Silverscales bolt up from his bed at the Fernwood. "-RADU!"

He pants, a hand on his chest, clutching at his amulet. "V... Vaermiir, thiss one..." he shudders, patting around for someone beside him.

There's the acid breath... and then there's not. The threat of oblivion might have vanished with the awakening, but as Ravenstongue sits up in her bed, safe and sound in her nice little home in the University District, the pain of knowledge too heavy to bear remains.

Somewhere down the street, drunken mage students laugh and holler as they traipse out into the winter night. Their vibrance and happiness carries on the cold air, but Ravenstongue scarcely hears them, her head not moving an iota. She stares down at her hands as they tremble. Is it from the cold or from the dragon's words?

Deja vu.

She looks up at Pothy, who sits up in his nest of books stacked in the corner of the room. Her eyes look at him with a hollow stare.

"Was that real?" she asks him.

Pothy stares back at her, his blue eyes filled with a curious emotion for a corvid. But then, he's no ordinary bird. "I wish you didn't have to learn this way," he says to her in his true voice--the cherubic little boy's voice filled with such sorrow.

Ravenstongue stares down at her hands.

...

"I killed my mother," she says. Then the tears pour down again.

-End