Amazingly, Larias has managed to stay asleep for more than a a handful of minutes. The exhaustion of the trip lending her the ability to sleep through the kicks, punches, and twists of her unborn. With the chill of night encroaching upon her, and dreams settling in (which has been a rarity of late) she begins to stir, head twisting this way and that, incomprehensible mutterings at first soft, then louder. One word through all the others rings loud enough to wake someone sleeping nearby, and clear enough to be understood, ".... Elian ... "
Savith has been woken by Volek, to stand his watch as guard. He's kept the camp cold, with no fire to show their location. The birds napping nearby, Winddance lending calming coos and presence to the younger more excitable bond, Savith himself sits near Larias's head, to watch the area with almost unblinking eyes. At the name, Savith turns to look at Larias. 'Elian,' he wonders to himself. 'Who the heck is...' Only one way to find out, there, Chosen. Gah. He hated this. Always gave him headaches afterwards. Keeping eyes open, part of his awareness on the surroundings, the rest he drips toward Larias. You know, he could just ASK her when she woke up...
But she may not remember when she wakes up? Or for her own reasons, perhaps Larias would be unwilling to share - so of course, this is the best way to glean information. There is almost no resistance at all when Savith begins to filter slowing into her mind, her unconcious self too tired, too trusting, too worried to fight away the soul that is now a part of her own. The image in her mind is clearer than so many when she dreams of the past, having been thinking on it lately perhaps. Another elf is with her, inside the Mountain, so terribly long ago, shaping the Halls of the Mountain. Larias looks so much more alive in her dream, more vibrant, her hair even has changed over time, for in the dream it is a rich blonde. "I'll be leaving Elian, finally I got Lord Voll alone and he has acquiesced, without Winnowill around, he no longer balked."
So much the way she first looked when eyes met eyes, for that sight shows an elf's most glorious and true form, devoid of age and time. Now that Recognition has been fullfilled, the sight has lessened. Once in the dream, Savith does his best to remain a part of it, a silent observer, though still in his Chosen's uniform. Surely, there are no Chosen at this time. But does he know that? Larias trusts him, even like this, as many of the other gliders do. It's a perfect cover for his presence, or so he thinks. He peers at the elf she is talking to, studying the rock shaper, unable to keep that touch of envy from hitting him.
Were there Chosen? If so, then they weren't quite the same as what they have turned in to. If Larias notes Savith's presence on any level, it doesn't show, her memories warping to twist and add in the news of her life. Elian's mouth moves, but only Larias can hear his words, for they are held within memories. She responds with a smile, "Of course I'll stay until then, You'd not forgive me if I missed the birth of your child." A pause, her form changes to resemble that of herself today, "I have to leave the Mountain Elian, and I too am with child now." A wry smile, "How old is your boy now?"
Savith blinks. What the fu-?! Child? He hesitantly drifts forward. Why couldn't he hear that other elf? Elian isn't an elf he's familiar with. Did he die? Did he leave? Did he resign himself a statue? Too many questions. Savith drifts closer, trying to sort out who this Elian person is, and why he's so curious about him.
As if to answer Savith's unsent, unspoken questions, Elian now begins to shift. He is unable to answer Larias' questions, as his features change, pale out, expression hardened into as passive and uncaring as one might be able to imagine. The large Hall changes as well, imperceptibly as Elian's change is at the forefront - but the dream grows darker, a corridor of the Mountain. Larias' hand reaches out, to gently touch the frozen cheek, "Oh Elian, how our kin have changed. I knew your mate had been punished as such, but you too? Was it for the same reasons? Would I have been frozen like this had I not left when I did?" His face can't even blink any kind of response as she speaks with him, "And your child, what of him? What of mine if he remains in the Mountain? Will he be forced to serve like this, like you." A tear drop sin the dream, outside the dream, the sleeping elfess cries freely, unknowing, uncaring.
Savith's jaw drops at the change. That's Brace. He knows that face. He spent a few turns studying him, to see if there was a likeness, but decided against it, and left the elf to his duties. But he had a son? Who is he? His eyes turn to Larias. The thoughts within him, are a whisper on the dream world, "That's what you fear most, isn't it Larias?"
Once more the dream world changes, from a long corridor, to a dark, dusty room, within the Mountain, its so cold, no light no warmth - her room when she returned to the Mountain the first time after everyone thought her dead to the world Outside. Sitting on the stone bed, which has no covers, Larias looks around, unable or unwanting to see who speaks to her in her dreams. But, she does answer, "Of course I am afraid of that, and worse. Friends twisted and turned to little more than pieces of rock, for speaking their thoughts - until no one dared but think what SHE wished of them. My son - will he turn out like Elian's?" Does she know who Elian's is anymore? To herself she nearly sobs, laying down on the stone bed, "Oh Savith - had I been here, would you have been different - would the Mountain?"
Savith blinks. What does that hav eto do with? But through the bond of souls he can't help but feel that hopelessness. Normally, he'd pull away, leave the elf to their nightmare, and move on. But this... this isn't just normal dream-watching. He feels... intertwined in it, somehow. "What would have changed," he asks finally, stepping forward into the light, into her consciousness. If she'll be mad, fine. But he can't just ignore this. "Brace chose his place. No, Elian did. Surely the son of his, whom you speak of, understands that." And is one of the other male think-do shapers.
What? Someone here with her, in the most private of places within her mind? Her cold forgotten room, the only place that ever looked as alone and desolate as she felt. She sits up, face flushed with anger in her dream, "How did you get in here?!" In the real world, her fists clench, but, then they still and relax, she is dreaming is she not, perhaps she brought him here. In the dream, Larias' face calms, though she still cries, the hopelessness, the lost friends to much to not grieve them. A shake of her head is given, "No Savith - I can not believe he chose it. His mate did not, and he stood by her, with their son. His mate was locked away into Door after a confrontation with Winnowill. You know how cruel she can be - perhaps the fate of one mate, is always the fate of the other in the Mountain. But I can not believe he chose such."
Savith remins at the edge of her conscious thoughts. Ah... Maybe he shouldn't have stepped forward. But her tears draw him, moth to a flame. And the knowledge that Brace and... Door...? Again he's confused. Malene never mentioned having a son! Surely she'd remember? But her words that the fate of one mate being the fate of hte other stings him. There's truth in it, isn't there? She fled the mountain so long ago, branded a traitor. Didn't he just finish doing the same thing? He shakes his head, "Stop your crying, Larias. It solves nothing." There's a faint echo. Perhaps someone told him the same turns ago, though the tone and feel of it was lighter.
The tears slow, until nothing is left but the wet salty tracks they left on her cheeks, quickly the trace of them disappears in her dream, though her hair is damp, as is the bedroll around her head. Her voice though, still contains the sorrow that led to her tears in her dream, "Can't I mourn? Myself, my old friends, their children, and their children's children? There is no solution Savith. There is no way out, no way to end this madness." Larias takes a deep breath, her arms wrapping about herself in the dream, "We are doomed you and I, to that fate, the fate of Elian and Tarek." eyes drop, she can not bear to look at him as she speaks her other fear, "And our son, to the fate of his father."
Savith takes that like a slap to the cheek, growing still and motionless, eyes turned away. Elian and Tarek. Those names. Familiar and not. But the thought that his son... "No," he whispers, "I will not allow him to grow up not knowing his parents's faces, wondering that it was his fault they tossed him aside, blaiming himself that he no longer knows the touch of their minds." Gah. Why's the world going blurry? It's not cause of tears! HONEST! No, really! Don't you believe me? Silently, a drifitng thought: 'Even if it means staying away until he's grown.' Sacrifice. Truely learning the word now. "He will be stronger than us both, and Chosen, faster, stronger, and more dependable than even Kureel."
Unlike herself in reality, her dream gives her courage - this isn't Savith she argues with here, is it? No, this is just her version of him, what her mind has conjured up, really, thats all he is in this dream she tries to tell herself. Brazenly, she rises, moving to stand in front of him, hands reaching up to turn his head, forcing him to meet her eyes, "Chosen by whom Savith? And for what?" Eyes so earnest, so worried and afraid, "Yes he will know who his parents are, we will be the statues that do nothing. And he will take your place as Hers. A guard, a minion, an elf with no mind of his own - save for his dreams, which of course, she can supply for him if she wishes. And like Elian and Tarek, we will watch him grow, unable to send or speak, unable to let him know it isn't his fault, that it wasn't a choice." She closes her eyes, even in the dream she winces, the pain coursing through as the child decides he doesn't like Mommy being upset - time to try and wake her up again.
Atuned to the shifting dream, Savith feels the world shudder. The child! He sends to the unborn mind, turning to look into the darkness beyond, his thoughts drifting there, **Child, be still! She must sleep more.** Oh, but you have to calm her for that. Looking back to Larias, he sighs, trying to soften his cold expression. "I won't let it," he replies, the thought that he'd be a statue in any sense cutting deeply, and Larias can feel that. "But for now, you must rest more." If he had any control in this world, he'd shape a soft place to rest. But even here, he's powerless, unless she grants it.
The power to shape? It is Savith's dream is it not - and this is a world of dreams, and nightmares. The world malleable to her touch on a subconscious level, and Savith, so tightly intertwined in her mind right now, is here on a conscious one, sensing the desire, he can feel the flood of power given him - shape her dream world, shape her mind? Unlike her real self, she moves, forcing her way into Savith's arms, seeking comfort here that she would not allow herself in the real world - the comfort of anothers touch, an embrace. Voice nothing more than a whisper, "If she orders it, you won't be able to stop her. I am the only Glider I know, to defy her, and remain intact - you are her Chosen, you can not defy like I can." The thought seeps into her mind, rest, rest is good, and the child has stilled at his father's request once more. She murmurs as she leans against him in her dream, "I should rest.. I feel so tired, worn all the time. Its different than before. I could live with that, this, is worse somehow."
Savith gasps at the flood of power. Is this what it feels like? Father. Mother. Is this the joy you felt, always? No wonder you tossed him aside. He doesn't resist Larias's embrace, instead leaning ot it as well. Giving the power, and feeling Larias's need to rest, and knowing she needs it, and that desire in himself to see to her protection, he looks to the bed, cold and heartless. He grins softly. She redecorated his room, did she not? Rearrange his world? He's never shaped before, but... he reaches out. The dream world almost ripples, like the surface of a pond touched by a single finger. The area near them, softens. Warm linens, gentle breezes, overstuft pillows. "Shhh," he whispers, moving to settle them both down, "Rest then. Regain your strength." Ah, but what of Larias's acquisations? That he is Her toy? Well, true enough. Savith resigns to it, the Chosen's uniform remaining, like bondage, about him. The talonwhip, the symbol of the Mountain's protectors, seeming to weight him down. "No, I can not defy. But let us worry on that later." Come on, lay down. "Now you must sleep." Sleep, in sleep?
Obediently, Larias does as she is told. Her mind stilling as she lays down on the newly crafted bad. Again, she falls asleep - this time it is deeper than before, so deep dreams can not come - the sleep of an exhausted mind and body. Her mind though, remains open to Savith, foolishly perhaps? But open it remains.
Savith raises as Larias's mind stills. A dreamless sleep is not healthy either, he knows. But it is better than exhaustion. He looks about. "Sweet dreams you must have," he states. Closing his eyes, in the physical world as well as the dream world, in his mind, as he once did for Aroree, he conjures up sweet images, gentle scapes, and happy days. Just as his parents shaped the mountain with heart and mind, so too Savith moves to shape the current dream's form. All her worry and fear, he pulls to himself, to hide beneath the feathers of his uniform, while seeming to open the Mountain Hall to the sky above.
The tense form of Larias relaxes in the real world, breath deep and even - as her mind is filled with such pleasant things, she even manages a smile. The tracks of tears now dry, only their salty lines remain, though her hair is still damp. Everything can be right with the world - when someone takes the pain from your mind anyway.
Takes the pain... to himself. Sitting by Larias, Savith eyes open to slits, and he tenses, pulling into a tight ball as he sends to Larias, minds linked. Arms hugging his knees, face buried to the nose in his arms, the pressure of holding her darker emotions at bay while inventing nothing but happiness and flowers showing in him. Within Larias's mind, he lets her fly free, where she will, above the world, above the pain. THe effort it costs him, he seems rooted, nay, shaped into the stone under his feet. "Fly high, beloved. Be happy."
