East Bank of the Silver Run River
The lands of the Abode surround you.
At the rivers edge, a pool has formed, sheltered by huge rocks on the west side, allowing the water there to collect and empty out somewhat at odd intervals. Here it seems a good place for the washing out of leathers, bathing of bodies and general relaxing, though the waters you find are chilled. There is smooth white sand, surprisingly, under your feet and you find yourself smiling at this pleasant place. There are a few trees scattered over the beach, providing shade as well patches of cleared ground. The bank here begins tapering off into thick woods, limbs covered with gaily colored leaves as the holt prepares for the season of DeathSleep. Dead and dying shrubs and undergrowth encroaches all around as the bank blends with and eventually becomes the forest. Tiny bugs zip around at ankle height, and occasionally a fish leaps out to snatch at one of them. It is a cool autumn afternoon. The father tree is quiet as elves and wolves sleep in their dens.
With Rosendo thoroughly throwing off Larias's sleep schedule, the elfess is actually managing to sleep at a normal hour, you know, in the dark of night. With the cool air of leaffall abounding, she's even snuggling up against whomever (if anyone) is under the shelter, Rosendo of course close by.
Savith is under the shelter. He's been trying to nap for a few hours, having given Larias a silent nod as she put the baby to sleep. He spent the rest of the time, staring up at the underside of the leaf and branch roof above them, listening to the sounds of night. Her snuggling caught him a touch off guard, but feeling the chill of the leaffall night, he refrained from shooing her away. Instead, he floated a blanket to cover her more fully, tucking her in and letting her use his shoulder as a pillow. The things he does for this elfess. Honestly. His eyes drift close as he warms up, not having admitted he too was starting to get cold. What? You think these flight suits are WARM? As if!
As the shoulder is offered for a pillow, how unlike her, Larias actually uses it, moving a bit closer. She murmurs something softly in her sleep, then rolls onto her side, hazily draping an arm across Savith's chest. It could be the depth of their bond, the closeness of touch, perhaps a mixture of the two, whatever it is, a thin stream of sending magic goes from Larias to Savith, as her subconscious gives deep dreams form, for both to share.
Exhausted from having fought to get Rosendo calm, and a lack of proper sleep for several nights, the warm body of Larias, the soft murmur, the soft silence of the night, and the hint of subtle gentle sends, lures the Chosen into sleep, pulling him down. He turns his head to her hair as she drapes an arm on him, and the arm under her shifts lightly, as if in a protective embrace.
You sense in a locksend, Larias's sleep fogged and dream shimmering mind reaches out for yours, is it comfort, habit? Perhaps she misses you on some level looking into her dreams and nightmares, her hates, fears and wants. As the world takes form, its night time in a warm desert, a secluded spring, away from prying eyes. A remembered promise coming to vision, as Savith asks Larias to help him recall his parents. She though, is not dressed as she was, instead, she wears the newest garb from Llune, and he, is garbed as he was in Sorrow's End, a striking elf in the yellow robes.
You locksend to Larias, Savith sits with his legs drawn up. Here, unlike in the physical world, the concern, the loniless is more than apparent. As if he could hide it now anyway. Chin in hand, he stares out at the orange-brown limestone rocks about them. "It's important," he says, as if carrying on the conversation from so long ago. "Not in any real sense of the word. Llune's enough of a mother for just about everyone." He glances over, though instead of like before, and avoiding your gaze, he peers right up at you, unafraid of it, for truely that's what he was: afraid. "Still, it's something I'd like to know, someday."
In the dark of night, Larias is finally sleeping. And High Ones, but wonders will NEVER cease: So is Savith. And best of all, they are ACTUALLY snuggled together. Larias is rolled on her side, head pillowed on his shoulder, and arm draped across his chest. Savith has tucked her in with a blanket, part of which covers his body. The arm under arm curls about her protectively,and his head has turned to her hair. Brow smoothing from real sleep, that which he has not had in days. Rosendo sleeps happily in a small blanket nest by Larias's sleep, full, clean, warm, and happy.
You sense in a locksend to Llune, Savith: Larias's mind reaches out for Llune's as Savith mentions her in the dream. The image of Llune coalescing, the desert sands shifting as only they can in a dream to form Llune's rooms in the Mountain. Savith turns into little more than a shadow, while Larias sits, waiting patiently to be measured. Its after the fight in his room, and she now gets the chance to speak to Llune as she wanted to, but could not bring herself to in reality, "You're son.. he confuses me Llune." Ahh, so the elfess does indeed trust Llune, confiding to her in her dreams at least, "What am I to do? Hmm? I can feel him, sense him in ways I can't even begin to understand... Do I give in to it all? Do I chance losing myself to him? His heart already belongs to another."
You locksend, to Llune, Larias: Savith remains a silent shadow, much like he does when dream-walking. His eyes almost glow in the darkness of the side of Larias's mind. Though unlike before, there's no strain to cloak himself, or keep the faint ripples hidden from the sleeper. He is the sleeper, is he not? Larias's question's make him tilt his head, but he refrains from answer.
You sense in a locksend to Larias, Savith: Llune measures Larias calmly, it's the most natural thing in the world for her, and at the question she sighs, but continues to measure calmly, "What is in *your* heart?" she asks, "And sharing doesn't have to mean giving in. It means sharing." She looks up to Larias and smiles, "Hearts are often shared, also."
You sense in a locksend to Llune, Savith: Larias moves about unhindered by the pregnancy that was well and truly there at the time. She brushes aside the measuring of Llune, "A heart is deceitful." The room dulls, growing dark and ominous, how Larias truly feels about rooms inside the great Mountain. As it does so, Savith moves of a will not his own, replaying the events, entering the room, still garbed in the brilliant yellow of Sorrow's End, he nearly looks larger than life, far grander than the elf in person - how her soul sees him. Larias's self grows dimmer, tucking into the shadowed corner. A whispered breath of speech as she converses once more to Llune, "To give in to my heart, wouldn't that be to lose myself... To the Mountain, to him?" Theres is worry, did the larger than life savith hear her words as she spoke them? The dream world reflects that, as random faded and fuzzy images of worries long past draw out and shape themselves into the stone walls of the room.
You locksend, to Llune, Larias: Savith drifts in, as bid to by Larias's will. He pauses briefly, in a very flower bright robe of mothsilk. He glances about the dark Cagelike room. A thought flickers, finding voice in this place of desires, "Ah, didn't I open this already?" He turns to look at Larias, "Silly elfess, reclosing what I've given." Did he hear? Yes, for he only shakes his head, to say softly, "A heart may be deceitful," he's not so grand, a mere magicless elf, not made for moving mountains, "but a soul is not." And behind him, beyond the doorway to Llune's room, the nightsky, and hte faint echo of wolf-howl. That too, is a part of him, a piece ripped away, leaving a gaping hole only now being refilled and healed by the most unlikely of hands.
You sense in a locksend to Larias, Savith: Llune looks confused at the dimming of the light, the odd way Savith is dressed (I could NEVER get him to wear something like that, she wonders), and Larias' whispering, so sends in her dresm, only to Larias **Savith is *not* the mountain.** Her newfound knowledge of the rest of her kin seething, **Savith's soul is greater than any of us could ever know.** She smiles at his entrance and his words, switching to dream-speaking aloud, "Savith is a true creature of love, though he tries desperately to hide it. And I have a feeling you are too. Giving into caring for Savith is not surrendering to the mountain. It makes both of you stronger, to fight in life what you do not love."
You sense in a locksend to Llune, Savith: Larias drifts as if on a breeze towards Savith, the room once again shifting into the warm denlike cavern that is his room. Poor Savith, unable to control all his movements now finds himself lying on his bed, clothing folded and put away - he is in bed after all. And Llune as well, pulled along behind her. Her eyes remain on Savith's form, though she speaks to Llune, "A creature of love? Yes... Rosendo, he loves so much." Quickly the garb changes, ancient leathers, damaged by an attack of wolves. She speaks to Savith now, "Souls? Is that all it takes, or did it begin, at the Raft Holt.... my dreams, you were so kind then."
You locksend, to Llune, Larias: Savith rests his head on a hand, propped up by an elbow. If he notes the ever-shifting scenes, he makes no comment. Afterall, he is used to evesdropping on this world. Larias's mention of Raft Holt pulls a twinge of guilt. He averts his gaze, cheeks darkening, while a hand clunches into a fist on the blankets covering him. "Raft Holt," he repeats, "I wasn't kind. It was a ploy. Just to gain your trust enough that you would willingly follow. How could I disobey and willingly cause unrest in a land not my own?" He shakes his head, the blankets and curtain of his area dulling to the older blues and greys he insisted his mother dye the blankets and curtain for him. He seems to chill from the shift in colors. "After all I had done to you, helped Tsoran do, even then, in appearing to help, it was myself I thought of. I can't find Ekana. I can't return empty handed. You are to be an offering, to spare myself, give me... more time." And remorse adds that last touch of darkness to him, the mental wounds that only the mountain Lord can inflect, such that he has felt, for his failures.
You sense in a locksend to Larias, Savith: Llune, more confused my the abruptly changing surroundings, looks about Savith's quarters, feeling out of place... Realizing that she *must* be in a dream - though group dreaming is unkown to her - the room brightens some, the grays more pastel, the blues more periwinkle, everything softer and less depressing. She says nothing yet, and stands by the doorway, watching the scene before unfold, and smiles sadly. At the mention of Ekana, of helping Tsoran - who Llune is creeped out by in the first place - speaking of ploys and thinking of himself, she finally interjects, "My son." Her eyes grow brighter, glowing almost in her face, showing the ernest feeling in her, "I love you despite your wrong doing. Whatever it is - you have not told me... But it amazes me that you would follow so blindly. You are not a product made to follow - you are one to think." The dream fades into a sunny, but cool day on the shore of the pool, birds chirping, trees bearing brightly colored fruit, grass greener than possible, "I have learned that there are things more than what Winnowill would have us see. And to turn blind eyes to it now..." She pauses, trilling fingers over the surface of the serene water, "Our 'Lord' is not always right. It is better to make your own mistakes, than to vouch for hers..." She stops, surprised at her openness about this... All the things she's been struggling with since leaving the mountain, all her new knowledge surfacing... And then, like a sleepy flower, she closes again, the sky dimming in her sudden fear of saying too much, "I... I'm..." She looks between the two, Savith and Larias reclining on a bed of soft moss, "I'm sorry..." The area goes dark, as though leaving an empty canvas for Larias to continue her thoughs upon.
You sense in a locksend to Llune, Savith: Larias looks about, thoroughly perplexed, no Mountain? But the siple glade the wolfrider's have allowed them to stay in. The ancient garb shifts, back into the green velvet thing given her by Llune, though there are strpings of gray added to it, feathers trimming where they aren't in life, and the sleeves growing more voluminous. She eyes Llune, "The Lord isn't right about much. She never has been." Her eyes search out drawn to seek him out. She moves towards him once found, "Llune is wiser than I think she is. I shouldn't have held back when I told her.. you are guilty of using me." A shrug, "I am guilty for using Ekana. The birds, her tribe was the scapegoat. How can I fault you for something Winnowill has brought you to do?"
You locksend, to Llune, Larias: Savith stands, arms folded over his chest, back in the bright yellow robe, but it too is altered, the sleeves and chest portion more form fitting, the shoulders graces with the featherd wings, though instead of silverygrey, they are dusty brown. As Larias draws near to him, his brows furrow in guilt, a frown pulling at his features. So sure she'd rage against him, he was beginning to tense, ready for the red and black hazy to cloud his vision. But, she shurgged. She too admitted guilt. A sad smile, so delicate an expression, to those that knew him, it would remind (espeically Larias) of the sad smile Elian gave, when she told him she was leaving the mountain, and but a moon before the birth of his first son. Even Savith's green eyes shimmer as if with the same light. "High ones truely pick us well, soulmate," he says, using the name for the bond between them that he can not use in body, "We are two halves of the same nut." The yellow robe/uniform darkening with swirls of Chosen blue-black, the feather boots visible, the talonwhip back at his side.
You sense in a locksend to Larias, Savith: Llune imagines Savith as a child, Larias not shown - but still seeing the scene unfold. He runs to Llune, is wrapped in her loving arms, and she smiles, that smile Llune smiles, caring, loving, and somehow, maybe just a little sad - something he never noticed as a child, or maybe something she never showed but in this dream... The scene flashes and Savith is grown again, in Llune's quarters, wearing one of the fine suits of Llune's making, her in a silvery dress, flowing about more than possible in reality, "You are..." she agrees, to the comment about the soul-matedness, the scene changing to his quarters, the edges softer than before, and Llune and Larias switching places, Larias now standing in front of him and Llune narrating, "And this should lead you both to see what you have been hiding from yourselves in each other..."
You sense in a locksend, Larias's mind releases Llune from the dream, somehow, Savith as a child does not fit, does not hold to something she can imagine or comprehend, though she stays placed where Llune put her, standing before Savith. As his garb changes into that of a Chosen, hers does as well, all black, embellished with silver embroidery and white, gray and black feathers. Her eyes take on a cold hard look, one of hatred, rage riding upon the surface, though tucked behind shame, loneliness, longing. Even her voice turns cold, even her dreams there is indecision, "If we are two halves, we share the same capacity for cruelty. At her whims, we both have given in, and still would." Abrupty she is swathed in light, shimmering green and golden, a holt, the hard edges leave her, the dark emotions bury within, "And outside, we can be free of those... or can we?" Brows furrow deeply, she turns away, voice but a whisper, "I was cruel out here to... I can not lay claim that she twisted me. I was not ther for her to twist, my anger, my hatred was my own."
You locksend to Larias, Savith has not seen Larias as a Chosen. The sight is... shocking. But she speakks the truth. oth share the ability to be heartlessly cruel, unthinking in their lack of compassion. He watches her bury the dark emotions, her voice soften to a whisper. Indecision. Rage. Is that self-loathing in her whisper? The uniform fades from him as well, replaced by what he wore when he was younger, before he was Chosen. One of Llune's master pieces, the same one from before. Always the strong one, here his true weakness shows through, mirrored self-hate within him. Floating no longer, he feels himself heavy, stuck to the ground. Worthless. He lowers his gaze, hair loose and obscurring his face. "But she fed on it anyway, and dangled that which you wanted most before you. LIke water in the desert, forcing a cry from chapped and bleeding lips." He brings his hands up to rubs his arms, chilled.
You sense in a locksend, Larias turns, still wearing the black uniform, despite the golden green surroundings her mind has crafted, she to lowers to the ground, the sound of her feet touching down echoing. Her voice turns thoughtful as she faces you once more, "She only gives permission for us to be our darker selves." How often had she wished cruelty when she was outside the Mountain, to afraid to show it. And once inside, how she hated her kin, for they hated her as she was truly an Outsider, though she had been born within. That hate lent her the strength to kill, both brutally and violently. Is that why she despises Iwnnowill, for drawing out of her that which she was to afraid to do on her own? A pale hand reaches out to gently touch his cheek, a light bit of force to bring his head up, "Meek does not suit you Savith. Neither does cruelty or hate." Once more she shifts into that mountain princess, flowers in her hair, young and exuberant, loving life, "We can be more than this... Then again," a sigh, "we are to afraid to be... " brows furrow, "No.. you aren't, but I am, aren't I?"
Long distance to Larias: Savith lifts his gaze at Larias's bidding. No, meek does not suit him, yet, deep down, that's what he is. He nods to her words, yes, permission to be dark. This young, breathtaking elfess, like a dream almost, captures his attention. "Oh, I'm afraid. Every moment," he replies, voice soft. "You've never seemed afraid, truely. Those nights of terror, it seems, were not made from your own mind. I think, that's why I couldn't remove them all. Besides, what am I, really? All I do is fly when called." He reaches up to cover her hand with his, pressing to his cheek lightly. He doesn't shift anymore. Young as she, he is that unsettled, unsure young elf, fighting to understand his place, not knowing why he's still here. There's real emotion in his eyes, and the sense that only in his most private of moments does he show this. His uniform seeming to hang from a peg not far away. Though robed in that delicate style of Llune's, the set to his shoulders makes it appear as if he feels utterly naked.
You sense in a locksend, Larias chuckles light and airy, freely, the sound actually pleasant and free - the laughter of one untouched by the darkness time has brought to her existence. "Savith - there was hardly a moment that I spent at ease outside the mountain. For all those turns, I was so afriad of everything, I spoke and sent to none that I saw. Those nightmares were mine and mine alone, but, what made them different, it was her touch which brought them every night.. Before that, I suppose I only dreamt of such as often as any other who has lived a life like mine would." She takes a step forward, pale blue eyes shimmering, how like Elian sometimes he seems, not that she was ever truly drawn to Elian. "What are you? You are..." she switches to sending, the name echoed as it did in her mind during the moment of Recognition, ** Savith. ** Back to speaking she goes, lips curling into a smile, teasing, "I fly away when called... And that is all I do. Its sufficient for me, why not for you? Does what we can't do matter?"
You locksend to Larias, Savith tries to grin at Larias's laughter, the emotion almost turning his eyes a lighter shade of green. But his jaw trembles instead, brows drawn down. Hardly a moment, she felt at ease. Now that he can sense it fully, when she allows, now that truth is there, he feels just terrible. Oh no! Look out! It's a Chosen with a conscience! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! He's about to withdraw, turn away and whistle for his bird, the only times his felt free, when just flying with her, feeling the wind about him, but Larias steps toward him, and snares him with his own soul. Yeah, she's right that's what I am, even if... it doesn't have magic within it, for in that name it is clear, though the power flows through it, it will not ever flow through Him. Larias's smile, the faint tease, brings a grin to his face. "I guess, cause I've always run away," he replies, "LIke my parents." He closes his eyes a moment, the air chilling again, that oppressive silence that rock holds for him. "What I can't do matters a great deal, to me, at least. And as many times as I've asked, no one will asnwer why." It's a good thing he's asleep, this is just a dream. Can you imagine actually TELLING someone this? GAH!
You sense in a locksend, Larias steps into Savith's arm as she did in another dream, when he crafted a safe happy haven in her mind for her. She slips her own arms about him, tilting her head so she can look at him in the eyes. "perhaps the answer doesn't matter? Perhaps there is no longer someone that can answer... Memories fade with time, and we are timeless." As the words are spoken, she fades into her current self, pale hair, lightly tanned skin, even a few wrinkles at the eyes. "You are do not run, you go where you are needed, chasing down fools such as I." Placing her head head upon his shoulder, she whispers softly, "You are braver than I for such things... Only once have I done such, chasing down that which I needed. And I still can't say as to why I need you."
You locksend to Larias, Savith's clothing shifts again as Larias draws near, back into uniform, back onduty. Once again strong, once again sure of himself. At least, outwardly. In life, he would not, unless she were asleep or the action desperately needed, return such a display of affection. But here, n this dream world, he returns the embrace, looking down Larias. "Perhaps, you are right. The answer doesn't... really matter... any more. I'm all grown now. What need have I for parents?" And then there's that grin, light hearted, humorious, even (High Ones help us all) a wink! "I'm good at playing fetch," he replies before Larias rests her head against him. What a tongue in cheek remark from so stoic a glider. He brings a hand up to brush his fingers through those locks of hair. "Ah, admit it, you can't live without me," he retorts. Ah, what humor! Hey, why not? He did the same, flying without a bond bird, from the mountain to the River in, what, like 30 minutes? Go Speed Racer! Go Speed Racer! Go Speed Racer Go!
You sense in a locksend, Larias, tilts her head up once more, chuckling softly, but then the humor fades as she speaks, "You're right. I can't. I can't bear the thought of you not being there... that the touch of our minds might one day cease." Her hold on him goes from light, to almost tight, clinging, "You shared with me what that is like.. and I don't want to feel it, ever again." Her head angles back down again as she buried her head in his shoulder once more, her guard down so completely, having invited you, brought you in, there is no loneliness casting a shadow over her.
In his sleep, the physical body tightens it grip on Larias, Savith shifting to a side as well, to wrap both arms about her. He murmurs something into her hair.
You locksend to Larias, Savith's arms, just as in the physical sleeping world, tighten along with yours. The whispered thought of those memories brings him a chill, to which he clutches just as fiercely. "Nor I," he whispers, "I couldn't survive another. I know it this time." Feeling her guard down, and with that ever present concern that someday soon, Winnowill will come looking without eyes, seraching without moving, and destroying with out weapons, he again gifts Larias a place of her own. It's odd though, that this time, instead of it being a haven for her, crafted by turning backwards all that hurt her, pulling it into himself and forciably supplying the rest, this 'room' is as much a haven for himself as it is for her. Two souls mingling, indeed. The lavish decor of Savith's Mountain Chamber, the warm open-topped sky-roofed star-studded chamber, shaped of rock and wood from Larias's imagining. He moves slightly, as if putting himself between Larias and any harm, whether it be from the mountain or without, from her mind or without. "Nor I," he repeats in a whisper, a stray breeze carrying a sense of something more, a faintly heard, almost ghostly echo of his earlier words, from a dream long past: Be happy, beloved.
Larias isn't awake, and having such pleasant dreams as she is, she doesn't shy away from the slumbering embrace, moving closer just as in the dream, finding a shoulder or arm to use as a pillow. With the body so comforted, and the mind as well, the thin line of sending emanating from her slowly ebbs, murmured words, "with you, I am." And finally true sleep, restful and pleasant takes over.
