RP:(Y)our Personal Hell

Part of the The God of Undeath Arc

This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.

Summary: Lanlan comes to House Dragana claiming he can help Kasyr wake up from his mysterious nightmares. Quintessa reluctantly lets him in to preform a strange ritual that takes them both into the dreamscape. When they finally find Kasyr, Gospel is there to greet them.

House Dragana

Towering over the abyssal forest, the dark mass of House Dragana is no less eerie than the vegetation, or lack thereof, in which it stands. The mansion's outer perimeters are flanked by the twisting trees and there are no gates to prevent the seemingly less desirable denizens of the forest from trespassing upon the property. A sleek, obsidian walkway runs from the house's entry to the path. The only source of light without comes form wrought-iron lanterns that are placed on either side of the walkway, spaced perfectly from one another. Within them, an eldritch glow of a deep, verdant hue flickers. Those brave enough to approach House Dragana's doors will be greeted with iron knockers bearing blackened skulls, their eyes set with emeralds that glow with the same light from the lanterns. Within the house's walls, there is no shortage of decadence. Only the most elegant of furniture is placed throughout its rooms. A grand staircase of blackened wood leads to the upper levels, where rooms for those that reside within the house can be found. Midway up, the stairs split to the left and right, spiraling upward. Here, there is a landing with a set of double doors that leads to a large ballroom. The lower level of the house plays host to a dining area and kitchen, though rarely used, a grandiose library filled with grimoires and tomes, and a small museum of artifacts collected by the house's residents. Though there appear to be no candles to light the way, an ethereal glow floods the innards of the house, providing ample reading light - undoubtedly arcane in origin. Dark magic is weaved into the house's existence as a measure of protection.

Lanlan can't do much right now. Running a marathon is entirely out of the question, and something he never knew he wanted to do until now. Gevurah walks to fast for him to keep up during her daily activities. She checks on him often enough, but then leaves. The last time he whined, and she gave him an enchanted walking cane that would make him feel a little lighter. It also had flames painted on the side so everyone would know how fast he was. He told her he would stay on the grounds, and he meant it. Unfortunately that turned out to be one more thing he couldn't do. Before she killed him, Lanlan wanted to see if he could be useful, and maybe confirm some suspicions. In the bowels of Gevurah's home, were a few surviving items of note seized as spoils or trophies when Daath blew up his house. Among them was a chariot Lanlan would use during war times. He put a comfy chair on it, and directed some staff to link some riding lizards to it. They obliged hatefully. Fear of Gevurah compelled them, not respect of Lanlan. He put pressure on his neck with his gloved hand and rasped, "To Vailkrin. Drive slow." This particular chariot was a fun ride. Of course, something like this could never function in a place like the Underdark, right? It did, because magic. As the lizards hooked their curved talons into notches in the walls and climbed, the wheels of the chariot were magnetically attracted and climbed with it. Even upside down, it had its own gravity holding Lanlan and chair comfortably, without even the use of a seatbelt. For fun's sake, he faced the chariots wake, enjoying the view while the rider lead. Eventually he'd make it to Vailkrin, and eventually even to House Dragana. In the entirety of the journey, the longest part was Lanlan's trek up the obsidian walkway. Every few steps he'd stop to take a rest. Finally he made it up to the black skull knockers and rolled his eyes. "Tacky," he said with some derision. He picked it up and let it fall continuously.

Quintessa was responding to her missive when Lanlan's knock echoes throughout the manor. "Leave it," says the changeling to her steward, "I'll answer this myself." She was expecting only two other people to show up here without a proper forewarning, but Lanlan was neither one of them, so when the doors to House Dragana magically swing open she is surprised to find Lanlan of all people at her door. A black eyebrow twitches as her left hand moves to grip the hilt of her katana. "You." she says, the hum of arcane energy flowing through the very walls of the manor as Quintessa's agitation rises. Her steward, her handmaiden, and a small retinue of skeletal archers join her in the foyer shortly after she answers her door. "You better have a good reason for dragging your sorry ass to my doorstep." the hex blade says shortly, her mismatched eyes flickering to the skeletons as the take their places on either side of the room. "If you're planning on finishing what you started the other night I'll be more than happy to animate your corpse to taunt your owner with once I'm done with you."

Kasyr 's physical condition is markedly improved, as he's no longer synonomous with canned soup, and he's since been moved into a proper bed, free of the bloodstained clothing that had been all but glued to his skin. But what consolation and comfort that might have brought has been robbed of him, if only because of the dark place his unconscious mind has unearthed. Without the excess of drinks to subject himself to, it's instead the tides of half-remembered nightmares he drowns in. Except, these memories feel uncannily fresh, a noxious scent of dry decay overwhelming the sense with every step he takes through the obsidian sands he wanders. Because, what else will he do in the face of the shifting desolation of this place- where the world twists beneath his scrutiny, and warps when he looks away. It took him hours to stop looking back at every hint of a sibilant whisper, and even now, the gleaming obsidian structure which rises up from those unhallowed sands still seems so far. He can only trust in his feet, and walk. He can only writhe in his bed, and sleep.

Lanlan takes a gentle step back, just enough to be out of the way of the swinging doors. "Ah! It's true," he says in as loud a whisper as he can manage. In a labored breath he takes count of her minions. Some time ago he heard she inherited this estate, but never bothered to confirm. And when she holds her hilt he pushes off his cane and walks back some more. A little more comfortable. He places one hand on the other keeping his walker steady, and gives his arms a shake so she can see, nothing behind his back, nothing up his sleeves. A symbolic gesture. "So he's alive. But he hasn't awoken, has he?" He presses two fingers to a particular spot on his neck as he swallows painfully. That was a lot of words. "Or he would've told you I didn't start anything." Every word he spoke was accompanied by anguish, and that imparted a benefit he couldn't anticipate. After a brief pause he added, "My lady." He looked down briefly, choosing his words carefully since each one pained him. "Would you like to ask him what happened? I can help with that. Even if he's asleep."

Quintessa narrows her eyes at the elf, "I don't care who started it," she admits, turning around to move closer inside, her cloak billowing behind her. "Enter, before the flesh golems outside tear you apart," The changeling can sense that Lanlan was in no condition to fight her or her minions, so a small audience is the least she can offer. "What is this trickery? Speak to him while sleeping? How did -you- find out that he talks in his sleep?" Her hand slips from the hilt of her katana so it can move to her hip with the other as she turns back around to eye the half-drow up. "Is that all you've come here for, to talk to a sleeping man? Kasyr is resting peacefully upstirs and doesn't need to be bothered by traitorous rabble." 01:41:54You oocly makes upstirs = upstairs

Kasyr s' not alone in during these dreadful slumbers- even when Quintessa hasn't been present to listen to feverish mumbles about the Coterie or his missing (ex?)wife. No, there's someone...something else that remains present at all times, accompanying the man as he stumbles through those ebon sands, or when he's left bracing against a sharp and stinging gale. It shifts and dances at his peripherary, but never seems to solidify- content to haunt him, to have him once more. The closest flash of recognition that the Kensai gets is when his footing gives way, sending him tumbling down that abysmal dune- and offering him a glimpse of something so terrible it leaves him little recourse than to try and crawl away. He doesn't even question when his fingers finally settle upon the chill Chitinous substance of the spire which had loomed so far in the distance, and which now loomed before him like some blasphemous tower of Babel. Without a second thought, he began to climb- because he needed to be anywhere but here.

Lanlan tries not to laugh at her admission, but he can't help it. "Eh...heh...heh...heh..." The pain almost brings a tear to his eye. "I understand," he whispers. He glances around to see if there really were 'flesh golems' stalking him, but he didn't see any. He signals his driver, twirling his finger up in the air, and he rides off. Then he slowly follows Quintessa, keeping up if she walks really slow. But probably not keeping up. Every step is accompanied by an echoing tap of his cane. "Everyone talks in their sleep, Quintessa. As long as they dream we can hear them." His nostrils flare at her consecutive insults, but with the little time needed to catch his breath, and his reluctance to talk at all, he wisely doesn't complain. "I wonder if he could truly be enjoying his rest," Lanlan says pressuring his neck again. "You probably know better than I. Man's troubled." Lanlan slowly and presumptuously moves toward the stairs. "We won't hurt him," he whispers. "We could help."

Quintessa pauses for a long moment as Lanlan speaks, the annoyance in her gaze slowly melting away as she thought it over. There were many things that the hex blade did not understand about Kasyr, perhaps this could be her chance to pry into his mind... "You think you can help?" Quintessa smirks finding amusement in his confidence, her sharp teeth flashing from under her lips. "And if this is a trick?" Her smirk fades away as she steps forward, her bare feet barely visible under her necromancer's robes as she crosses the distance between herself and Lanlan. "I'll make it painful. I'll enjoy it too, you know I will." Quintessa's voice was low and personal when she describes the doom that awaited him should he double-cross her personally this time. Suddenly, the gloom around her dissipates and she forces a smile, "Help me, and perhaps I'll spare you and your House. But that's it, the rest of you die. Now follow," she turns to head upstairs, a smirk growing on her face as she imagines Lanlan struggling to pull himself to the second floor.

Kasyr has been here before. Though, perhaps it wasn't quite here? His palm slips against the slick surface of the tower, his palm slicing open against an angular protrusion of scale- and for a brief moment, he's left paralyzed in place. Unbidden, a wretched memory of a strength draining cold, and a cliffside of bone and jagged glass slithers to the front of his thoughts, and dragging with it the image of a long gone wizard. Kasyr clutches desperately at the aberrant structure, fighting against the way it seems conspire to shift away from his finger tips, even as he searches for new handholds. The pain (what pain?) is pushed aside as he continues his ascent, and though some part of his mind has settled onto the stubborn though that he might be able to do this forever (that he might have to), there's relief to be found when his hands found a ledge, and then slides further inward- revealing the presence of a ledge where the Kensai might be able to gather himself. The real world, at least, is not such a disjointed or weird place, for the swordsman. He occasionally shifts in his sleep, and there's been likely more than a few admissions on his part that he might regret later- but Quintessa's comment might not seem an outright fib at a glance. Really, the most disconcerting aspect about Kasyr's present state of health, might simply be the fact that there's an ominous bit of inkwork in the shape of a ring of scales, which seems to expand, contract, and shift whenever it's not under observation. ...Totally harmless.

Lanlan recoils slightly, turning his head away as she crosses over to him but unable to fully look away. His cane taps the floor a few times as he anticipates needing to move and adjust his balance. "I-I know," he says with a slight tremble. And then whatever was oppressing him stops. His eyes narrow on her as she leads, and he hesitates as he exhales. He'd been holding his breath. "Don't do that," he says with some annoyance and a lot of anguish. Then he grabs the railing and pushes off his cane. By the time Kasyr wakes up, Lanlan will probably be up the stairs.

Quintessa stays by Kasyr's side, replacing the cool cloth on his forhead with a fresh one and wiping the sweat from his brow. The ashtray that sits on the end table is overflowing with cigarette butts, but the changeling still manages to stuff more in it as she chain smokes them until Lanlan arrives. "Oh, Kasyr," she sighs every once in a while, brushing the hair from his face and touching his calico cat ears gently. "Don't worry, I'll get her back. Not even Vakmatharas can save her now..." Pale fingers occasionally reach out to touch the moving tattoo, smiling at the symbol. Her outfit at the Commencement Ceremony honored such symbols.

Kasyr is cold, whether it's the him that lies within the bed whose subject to the tender ministrations of Quintessa, or the more ephemeral incarnation of himself, which sits upon an outcropping of gleaming scales, which overlooks an expanse of sand which continues to trail outwards until it meets the horizon, unbroken save by the sporadic masses of scale which jut out like broken ribs. The sight should be terrible to behold, especially in the morbid way they shimmer and shine beaneath a swollen red light which seems to emanate from nothing in particular, and yet, for just a moment he feels almost comforted. The moment passes, however, a low whistle of wind whipping past the ledge, and the swordsmandraws further back against the caliginous tower, suddenly unable to bear looking over the edge as the intense sensation of something poised to nudge him over the edge grows. There's a sense of menace he's unable to suppress, or pinpoint, and it's all Kasyr can do to brace himself and focus upon where he is, as though keeping the platform in sight is the sole thing preventing it from from giving way beneath his feet.

Lanlan leans his cane against a dresser and begins arranging the necessary components. A little jar, a jagged clear crystal, and a couple tiny vials with a dark purple liquid in them. All arranged neatly in two rows. He's ready to begin, and about to, until Quin's ominous promise interrupts him. And could she know something? Something no one should know. Kas did, but that was a mistake, and Lanlan knew that immediately. He didn't tell her though. He leaves his cane and steps almost silently over to her, until he's behind her back. "What do you kn-mmm!" He interrupts himself clearing his throat. "What do you smoke? I'll trade you." He offers her one of the tiny glass potions, the other one's for him. If she give him a cigarette he'll smoke it, and not -only- because he obligated himself. Then he'll fill the glass jar with water, and stand it on a window sill in view of the moon. He cups the quartz in his hands and whispers something quietly to it, then spins it into the water with a twist of his fingers. Magically, it keeps spinning! He uncorks his potion. Maybe she'd recognize the smell, it's belladonna. "Are you ready?"

Quintessa is a bit wary of this whole thing. When she thinks Lanlan isn't watching, she glances at his to watch what he's doing before quickly looking back at Kasyr before Lanlan turns around to catch her. To his question she raises an eyebrow, not realizing her comment about Vakmatharas was in any way related to Gevurah's problem with Caluss. She didn't even know about the god of undeath, nobody had mentioned it to her yet. Quintessa is just left to assume Lanlan is not hiding anything and just wants a smoke. "I smoke cloves," the changeling says, her silver cigarette case popping open with a single black cig sliding out for him, right on cue. Quintessa had never seen the half-drow smoke before, but whatever, it's never too late to start. The bottle though, she eyes suspiciously, waiting for Lanlan to uncork his first before she slowly tastes her own. She recognizes it. "Essence of nightshade?" she asks accusingly, hesitating with it before her lips. "I can handle my sedatives." she informs him with a smirk before her brows furrow. "Ready for what? A little nap? If you came to poison me you'll need a bigger dosage than this."

Kasyr busy as he is with the process of trying to anchor what he can see in place, is left blind to how the world continues to mutate and altar behind him. What once was a solid wall of chitin gives way to a cavernous maw behind him, crumbling into a blackened tunnel that defies any sort of logical length, given the width of the structure he's on. What's worse, however, is the dessicated figure which is retched forth in the wake of this, clattering noisily to the ground behind the Kensai with enough of a din to nearly startle him off the ledge. He doesn't want to look. Dream logic does frequently come with a certain degree of precognition, after all- but the train of events feel equally immutable. Just like it always does, his head tilts towards the remains scattered out before him- the tattered remains of what could only be described as wizardly robes, and more notably, to the fanged grin in the skull, and the oddly telling gap in it's teeth. Anywhere but here is what flickers through the swordsmans head as he staggers up to his feet, what sees him moving into the belly of the beast, despite the ominous feeling which seems to emanate from that dark passage.

Lanlan takes a drag and instantly starts -gasping- for air. Hacking coughs, rolling tears, approximately one breath in twenty tries. He leans against the desk desperately rasping and clutching his throat. "That...was...foolish..." he manages to get out word after breath after word. Why did he try that with a mangled lung? Luckily the potion should help with that. "Yess," he creaks, "We'll need...to be asleep. Just focus...on your intention." He drinks his. The potion and the spell harmonize, and almost instantly, things would be revealed to them they couldn't detect before. Dozens, hundreds, thousands of tiny diamonds of glittering light refracted out of the quartz. Lanlan's basically a lightweight and gets super drowsy right off the bat. "Wait! No!" If he doesn't have anything special to Kasyr to connect him, he'll be powerless in the dream. He takes a staggering step to Kasyr's bed, and falls to all fours. Before his eyes, the night sky is spread out on the walls of Kasyr's room, and the tiny diamonds take their place as stars. The walls disappear, the ceiling, the floor, all he can see is Kasyr and Quintessa. Falling on his face with arm outstretched, he reaches out and grabs desperately at the hem of Quintessa's robe, and passes out in a dead slumber.

Quintessa laughs cruelty at Lanlan's pain before she drinks the bottle of poison unceremoniously. Whatever, it wouldn't be the last time she ingested poison just to see what would happen. Her unnaturally high constitution affords her a moment to contemplate if she just made a mistake before the world starts spinning. "No?!" she shouts after already drinking the the belladonna extract. "Don't fall asleep..." Quintessa knees down to Lanlan's passed out form and turns him to his side, her limps and head already feeling heavy. "Should have never... trusted..." She slowly sits next to him, her back pressed against Kasyr's bed s her mismatched eyes flutter. "I'll just..." she relaxes, her eyes finally closing, "Just rest a moment... Before I kill..." And that the changeling too has fallen into a deep sleep.

Kasyr s' nightmares have not been tailored to accomodate interlopers. In fact, the Kensai's mind is generally a hostile place towards the prying fingers of mental abilities. But there's something currently lurking that bids the intruding pair welcome- or more specifically, beckons in Quintessa, Lanlan simply tolerated due to proximity. Small fragments of memory rush forward to greet them, images of a black and rippling pool that swells up around them and drags them in deep, that sends them falling sideways through a fog filled forest as acid rain ravages soldiers, and then finally leaves them hurtling into a sea of stars. This last image seems to go on and on, accompanied by an enraged hiss which only seems to intensify, until it's replaced by an utter and still silence. As a sense of weightlessness takes hold of them, something vast and dark would whip past them in the darkness, lashing out against the void as it continues to hurtle towards what can only be Ahr'nuk. But the pause in their travel is brief, for once that blasphemous thing dissapears from view, they'd begin to fall once more. Only this time, there's apt to be little familiar in sight for the pair, only the blighted hellscape that's been haunting the Kensai.

Lanlan wakes up to an unexpected sensation. When he first learned to do this, the transition of consciousness wasn't always easy. It could be easy to forget what he was doing when he was awake, and essentially be a passenger in someone else's dream without ever getting to his intention. This time didn't allow for any question. He could never do these things awake. Most times when he entered another person's dream, he'd find them at least nearby. Sometimes he'd have to search, especially if the dreamer was feeling lost themselves. But what -never- happened, is being dragged through layers of dreamscape; the patient's or victim's past experiences flashing before him in rapid succession. It was fun, scary, and confusing. It was also incredibly hard to focus. Moving from one scene to the next, he couldn't remember how he got there. But soon he sees before him a solid, glittering black surface, that doesn't move. It was time for him to claim some agency, or see if he could. His slate gray robes, that match his skin, suddenly twist and morph into an enormous pair of insectoid wings. Powdery and light, but they easily slow his descent, and allow him to flutter gently to the obsidian dunes. The smell hits him. "Why," he says stifling his retching. He reminds himself what this place is, and that he has power here, though limited. He can will himself to stomach smells he couldn't awake, at least. There's the twisting visage of a black tower standing against the sky in the distance. "You don't think he'd go there, do you?" And then he starts walking toward the tower. Because, duh.

Quintessa feels oddly at peace within the layers of the dreamscape. Her dark clothes melt away from her body slowly as small, scale-like plates of reddish metal begin to crop up all along her. The size and shape is not uniform at all, some large, some misshapen. They overlap over and over until they form a long, sleek dress that shimmers in the lights as they pass them. Something about Quintessa changes, she appears gangly and feral, her long black hair tangled in stark contrast to the ostentatious mermaid dress that had materialized on her lithe form. Her mismatched eyes morph slightly, her round pupils flattening vertically to match a viper's. In silent wonder, she surrenders herself to the pull of the dream, snakelike eyes watching with glee up until the point she was hurtled downward into black sands. Her glee evaporates, replaced with reptilian apathy as she hits the surface of a dune, the force scattering sand in every direction. Quintessa lies there for a long moment as Lanlan descends slowly, her body aching from the impact. When the half-drow speaks, the changeling rises, her gangly form slithering from the crater to meet him. "Of courssse," hisses Nightmare Quin, "That'sss where I would go."

Kasyr is dawdling. He knows he's supposed to step forward, but not why- and every impulse in him distrusts the long hallway that extends forward. There's a threat lurking in those depths, he can sense that much, but he's unable to see it beneath the thinning yellow light that seems to emanate from squirming slits in the wall. For a few long moments, he can feel his foot moving forward despite itself, as though some outside force were puppeting his actions- if only for it to abruptly relinquish it's hold upon him. That faint spectre of something coiled about his presence is gone . . . for the moment, at least. He takes a step back, fully expecting to bump into a wall that was not there prior, only to hit nothing at all- as the fine order of things finds itself disrupted. Rather then the dread stability of a foregone conclusion, the Kensai's left in a world suffering from upheaval, the passage abruptly tilting downwards to finish the job and send him hurtling back from the tower. Perhaps Quintessa or Lanlan might see a figure drop- though the exacts might be hard to place, for once under Observation, Kasyr would be subject to the perceptions of the viewer. The monster, the king, the teacher, and other bits besides- all conspiring to assert themselves over what little bit of reality he'd managed to impose upon himself. Not that much would matter when he hits the ground in an angry puff of sand. Ahr'nuk stares down angrily at the Sand Angel'd form of the human, crimson light dripping down over all it surveys. Kasyr can only meet it's gaze for so long before he turns his face away, pushing himself back up to his feet to once more set his hands to unyielding scale, heedless of the manner in which the texture of the tower seem to have versed itself, the ridges now biting receptively into his flesh to afford better purchase as he slowly scales upwards, his upwards momentum only slowed when subjected to the perception of others. That malicious presence is not dawdling. It's been a long time since it's had a foothold in the swordsmans mind, to be anything more than a mocking whisper. Even this recent opportunity to nudge at the Kensais fragile psyche, and subject him to a greatest hits reel of tragedy and torment has been an unexpected treat. But there's something more- now. For just a moment, it has a proper anchor in the form of one of it's own followers, which has somehow managed to slip through the cracks, providing the wisps of it which remain within the Kensai a greater form of solidity. Of power. Because whilst Kasyr has proven to be an ultimately stubborn and unwieldy tool, the newcomers may prove to be more receptive to what it whispers about- to the suggestion of power to be found that could help overcome their plights. How they might be able to come into the power and adoration that they so rightly deserve, and which has been denied them, and bequeathed onto others, instead.

Lanlan knows that in dreams your perception of a person can be completely different than in reality, but he usually doesn't notice. Whatever incarnation the person takes in a dream is usually so intuitive to the viewer that it doesn't even occur to Lanlan that anything was weird until he wakes up. But Quin's incarnation -was- noticeable. She morphs into something else! He lands and stands at the lip of her crater she made. "That didn't actually hurt," Lanlan reminds her. "This is a dream. Don't forget." There could be serious consequences to making that mistake, and he had a goal. She was going to help him. Hopefully. "Hey. Doesn't it look like there's two people at the tower already?" He pulls out a telescope that he had conveniently stored exactly where he needed it because dreams. He hands it to Quin. "Who are they?" Assuming Quin takes it and looks, Lanlan holds up his hand. Through the telescope, Quintessa would see a gangly snake lady holding a telescope and a gray elf with long eyebrows (or whatever Lanlan appears as in her subconscious) waving at her. "It's us isn't it? He's trying to lead her to the convenient conclusions. If she did have power here, even without realizing it, when she pulled the telescope back down the tower would be right behind them. Seconds later, something falls from the tower and lands a few feet away from them, puffing up a screen of black dust.

Quintessa shakes off the sand from her body, whatever pain she was feeling shaking away too the moment she realizes that none of this was real. A long, forked tongue flicks in Lanlan's direction before her slender, spindly fingers snatch the telescope from his hands. Quintessa looks at Nightmare Quintessa looking at the pair of them before she looks over at the grey elf with two massive antennae poking out of his head. When she looks back over at Lanlan he has transformed to look notably more bug-like. Even his eyes begin to look segmented to the changeling. "Interessssssting." She says, looking at the tower they had seemingly teleported to. "How did you know thisssss would happen?" She flicks her tongue at him again, "You've invaded many dreamsssss haven't you? I'll have to interrogate you later." Her hair begins to form together to resemble the hood of a cobra, and Nightmare Quintessa gives Lanlan a snake-like snicker before something falls near them. Mismatched viper eyes narrow to scrutinize whatever it was as her form slinks closer.

Kasyr is sprawled in a a second Dune-angel which is all but adjacent to the first- a morose look painted on his face. At his feet, the tower looms skywards, overlapping with Ahr'nuks baleful silhouette and looking far more Ophidian than it had a moment prior. " . . . On second thought." He can just stay here, right? Just lie there in those bleak sands until they swallow him whole, and the rest of this awful place follows suit. That's an option, right? It's tempting, anyways- but not so much to prevent him from heeding the fact that there's a rather foreign sound all of a sudden- voices which seem to have emerged to the side of him, and which seemed to have grown closer. He starts to turn his head in that direction, but there's a growing darkness overhead that coaxes him into glancing up, and taking note of a slab of something that's on it's way down. It's enough to coax him into managing a haphazard combination of a crab walk and a scramble away from the tower, heaving himself clear even as the pale boulder sends a fresh burst of sand into the air. Even as he's wiping the sand from his eyes, he continues to back away, but it's not long before he backs straight into Nightmare Quintessa. The fact that the tower has apparently shifted back into focus behind her is a minor inconsistency at best in the face of what she represents, the swordsmans eyes growing owlishly large as the color drains from his face. "...Why?" He manages to swallow, and then dumbly add, "What...?" With such little focus on Lanlan, the other witness to this little sortie begins to coil itself around his person, a thin trail of spectral smoke that seeks to slip into the shade of his curious wings, and drink in of what envious feelings it might be able to glean from the illusionist while he's in this place. Some insight that it might be able to ascertain from the drow. 'You could be more' - it's not quite a whisper, more like a feeling, but maybe that will be enough to provoke something for it to work with.

Lanlan didn't know for sure his idea would work. "Of course I knew this would happen, because I wanted to," he says nodding confidently. This was his domain, moreso in his imagination than in fact. When she suggests interrogating him, her lack of affect as a snake person leaves him a little jarred. "Ha...ha? Yeah...sure." Was she joking? It seemed like she had to be joking. Hopefully she was joking. "Oh, that won't be necessary. There's a book I can refer you to, that will teach you how to do this. You'll be a natural I can tell." By the time the dust settles, or even a little before, a strange little figure scurry out of a man shaped pit and bump into Quintessa. It wasn't a man though. It was a dense black cloud with a cigarette behind one of its calico cat ears, and enormous chains looped over its fluffy arches. Even one link on the chains seemed heavy, and he carried dozens. He thinks about saying something, hoping sad-cloud Kasyr might not remember why he's sleeping, but an enormous boulder slams into the ground and covers him in a fresh coat of dust. "Yes. Why," he says as he spins back recoiling from the sudden dust-storm. If he saw it coming he might've been scared. Now he was simply blind again, and agitated. But this time in the shroud of dust, he didn't feel just blind, he felt...isolated. And suddenly aware that he couldn't see or hear anything, or anyone. There was nothing else for him to do, he picked a direction and walked in it hoping to emerge from the cloud of dust in a second. Seconds can go on for a while in dreams, though.

Quintessa grins, her teeth looking even sharper, longer, and notably more horrific as the sound of locus seems to emanate from her body. Her tongue flicks in Kasyr's direction and and his taste in the air brings the changeling much satisfaction. "Kassssyr." Her attention jerks back to Lanlan at the mention of a book. "Yesssss, ssssshow me thisssss book when we awaken from this Hell." Her voice warbles and reverberates strangely as she speaks. "But now, you help Kasssssyr. How do we fix thisssss messssss?" Nightmare Quintessa's form sways back and forth as she nears the kensai, his cigarette smoke aura drawing her closer. "Do not worry, we are here to help you." the horrific woman says to Kasyr, trying to reassure him. A hand reaches out for him, her already sharp fingernails an inch or two longer than normal. "Mon amour." Crimson lightning flashes in the distance behind her, making her already reddish scales shimmer the light from the unnatural storm.

Kasyr could have sworn he'd heard Lanlan's voice- and yet he turns his haze to gaze in his direction, there's nothing, leaving him face to face with the nightmarish visage of his student. He opens his mouth a moment, gawps, and then shuts his mouth, his attention redirecting towards the boulder- which now seemed to drip and melt away into the crater it had left. That, too, is uncomfortable to focus on, so the swordsman redirects his attention towards the tower, "I don't know." His fingers burrow into the sand as he subtly tries to lean back, "But, I know you're not supposed to be here. Or...Did I get you killed?" For all that the Kensai tries to avoid looking at something distressing, this place makes it so very hard- if only because in trying to avoid looking at Quin, he finds his gaze falling on a structure in the distance. It's hazy, and all but hidden in the sands, and yet acutely familiar all the same. Because it doesn't belong here. It belongs to a castle that sat upon a cliffside overlooking Venturil. Quintessa may not recognize it, but she's rather apt to be familiar with eerie shadows which seem to swell and form in the midst of the dunes, fascimiles of forces skirmishing across those black sands. || Lanlan, however, gets the best seat in the house. Guided as he is by his serpentine passenger, he'll find his way to the room itself- where the pervasive feeling of ritual murder and despair seeps into the stones. And whilst he's left behind Kasyr at this juncture, there's another Kensai waiting for him- a phantasmal spectre who seems to be desperately trying to understand just what's about to happen. Who is, at least in this rendition of that moment, provided with an excellent vantage view of those conflicting armies, and the gleaming black dragon which flies overhead. 'You could fix thisss.'

Lanlan finds himself in a strange place, one he heard about from Gevurah. He smiles and stands next to Kasyr, to excited to look for signs of his lover to remember that he should beware. "What do you get out of reliving this, you sadist," Lanlan says benevolently joking. He assumes the only thing to care about in this memory was Razurath being erased, and Gevurah murdering people in the way that he so adored. He scoured the battlefield for her, hardly noticing that Kasyr never answered him. "Right and there's Luffy. I wonder if she still has my staff?" Kasyr's still apparently ignoring him, and this time Lanlan notices. He stares Kasyr in the face and just about yells. "I wonder if she still has my staff, Kasyr." In the not-quite-human's eyes, Lanlan sees what he can only describe as a chunk of his soul crumbling to dust. It compels Lanlan to turn, and to suddenly see the air get set on fire. The Razurath ignited a super magic bomb as a last resort to defeat their enemies and presumably save their people from becoming slaves or worse. Lanlan's first instinct was to look for Gevurah, truly getting wrapped up in the emotion of the spectacle for a minute. "No she's alive. I already know this. I wonder how Luffy got out of it." He's about to find out, actually. The memory of Kasyr leads him through the dusty aftermath, and eventually he finds Luffy and Quin. The former deteriorating in an extremely gruesome, humbling way. It almost hurt Lanlan to see Luffy so weak, so brittle. "You stupid idiots," he says as he turns around to walk away. "What a waste." He shakes his head and walks, head down, cursing in undercommon because it sounds so much harsher to him. Suddenly he finds himself with Kasyr watching Luffy flying above a waging war. A thought comes to his mind. "Yeah why should I fix this. It shouldn't have happened." Kasyr's tantrum made a lot more sense now. Lanlan turns to him again as before, speaking again. By now he's realized this version of Kasyr is just a figment of a rumination. "Seems silly displacing your hate on me when it's your fault." He folds his arms and watches it happen again, shaking his head. The thought burgeons once more. "Yeah how would I fix -that-?" The all-consuming fire burns again.

Quintessa laughs aloud, her creepy voice echoing throughout the obsidian wasteland. "Killed? No, it issss not yet my time to die. Ark'Nuk has use of me, and the spirit of the Dark Foressssssst has chosssssen me. It wasssss Lanlan that brought me, to tap into your mind with hissssss odd ritual." Reptilian eyes of blue and hazel glance around them, following Kasyr's gaze to the castle. Quintessa notices that Lanlan is gone, spirited away in this odd dreamspace. "Where hassss he gone?" she asks for a moment, her tongue flicking out to test the air for him. Her senses are overwhelmed by Kasyr's scent, and for a second the desire to kill him bubbles in her stomach. Nightmare Quintessa pushes it down, instead gazing at the battle that took place all around them. It was the most one-sided battle she had ever seen, not at all the glorious conflict that would be told in the history books. Would they tell stories of the pile of Razurath heads in the city square? A low rumbling growl reverberates through her entire form, causing the sands to quiver with her rage. The changeling does not want to witness this again. She had seen it all with her owe eyes, the death of somebody she had come to grow fond of. Quintessa tears her eyes away from Luffy to look back at Kasyr, her mismatched eye rapidly shifting between vertical puples to round. "This issssssn't real," she says, trying to convince herself as much as Kasyr, "But we can't leave until ssssomething issss ressssolved. I can feel it."

Kasyr , or at least, the phantasmal version of him, is no longer left locked overseeing an endlessly repeating holocaust. The corpse ridden castle that overlooks venturil is looking decidely more cavernous by the minute, fragments of fluorite rippling out from the walls and then freezing over. Kasyr, or at least the mnemonic variation of himself, is moving again- though this time with a sense of dreadful and desperate purpose down this path. The presence curled about Lanlan subtly twists from it's vantage point, intentionally coaxing the illusionist to look on the scene, and to bring his focus to what still remained of Luffy- that eye which had refused to fall to pieces when the rest of herself had. Even if he choses not to move his feet, their perspective will shift to keep them an equal distance behind the Kensai as he moves through a glacial Manse, setting it down in an office carefully. 'Not quite sssspent. She could be made ssstrong again.' There's a second idea underlying this one, because even as there's an image of Luffy knitting back together from the Ice, as though melting in reverse, there's a phantasmal image of Lanlan reflected back at him who seems to be orchestrating that reconstruction. There's a sense of utter confidence that seems to exude from him, a sort of clarity of will and focus that all but arrests the attention of the onlooker while he's at work. 'It could be so easssy for you. You have so much potential. Untapped.' || Quintessa's words aren't quite falling on deaf ears- but it takes the Kensai a great deal of effort to turn his face away from the battlefield, his expression a combination of exhaustion and disbelief. "I... what do you mean?" His voice is so confused, so tired when he helpfully adds, "I killed him. ..Didn't I? I mean, of course he'd . . . be in hell, too." The act of pulling himself to his feet feels so difficult, a weird sort of disorientation present the longer he stares at her, until he finally manages the strength to shuffle forward towards the tower, leaning his hands up against it. "But, Why are you . . . dressed like that?" He shouldn't have said that. And he knows it. Perhaps it's why he seems so unsurprised that when he turns around, Nightmare Quintessa has a rather disarming companion- A blue haired feline, with bright lapis eyes, that seem entirely at odds with her pale skin and the red scaled outfit that seems to mirror Quintessa's. The image wavers, like a mirage- but even despite that, Quin might at least be able to recognize that there's more than a passing resemblance between it and Kasyr. "Like her."

Kasyr is definitely still leaning on the side of caution- in the sense that he's very dead, and this is just hell completely messing with him in new and inventive ways.

Lanlan watches as the scene get forcibly yet gradually decontstructed and re-imagined in seconds. Most of him doesn't want to notice, wants him to blink and see it end. He doesn't because it should be him doing this, and it isn't. He couldn't imagine the change taking place. It could've been Kasyr. Maybe there was something he wanted him to know, even if Kasyr himself wasn't ready to admit it. He decided to focus on every bit of the scene he could. But he isn't allowed the time. He stopped to wait, to commit this place to memory, but he'd find himself moving unintentionally, and so he had to decide precisely what bits of scenery he wanted to absorb before passing them by. Or maybe that wasn't quite right. He wasn't passing any scenery. The scenery was passing him. He heard his thoughts echoing within him again, or, he took for granted that they were his thoughts, earlier. Now he knew they weren't his, but he was hearing them in his head. Insidious. "Even if that's true, I don't-wow." He becomes slightly enthralled with the version of himself he sees. What was this? "I know I do. I've always known that." He's aware of another director, now. Not Lanlan, not Kasyr, not Quintessa. Someone or something else. Something is trying to tempt him. Would it be dangerous to play along? Maybe. But Lanlan didn't think it would be for him. He stares unblinking at the scene, recognizing the fluidity of it and wanting to see more. "Show me how to reach my potential."

Quintessa eyes the blue-haired feline with suspicion, and then jealously, her form twisting to grow a few more inches so she has to hunch over to keep her gaze on them. Her eyes lock reptilian, her claws grow longer, and her canines grow into fangs as she hisses aggressively, the transformation taking only a few seconds. "Who isssss thisssss?" she seems agitated. Nightmare Quintessa grumbles at the blue-haired feline, "Why are you wearing that?" she repeats Kasyr's words before looking down at herself. "What?" she hadn't yet noticed the changes she had went through. It felt natural, comfortable even, to exists as the corrupted version of herself. "What hasssss happened to me?" There is a distinct panic in her voice as she sees her own reflection in her crimson scales. "Perhaps this -isssss- hell. Lanlan'sss poison actually worked." Nightmare Quintessa sinks to the ground next to Blue, her form shirking visibly as she loses her fangs and claws. "Thissss isssn't real," she repeats over and over, hugging her knees against herself, trying to remind herself that this was only a dream. A nightmare like all the others. Eventually it all comes to and end. THe hex blade finally pulls herself together enough to relax, looking back the girl in Quintessa's dress. "Sssshe lookssss jussst like you..."

Kasyr is no longer there for Lanlan to observe, and the office seems destined for the same fate- the walls seeping away to puddle at the ground, and then ultimately be absorbed back into the obsidian sands of the desert. The table remains, however, as does the eye upon it- though even it begins to show small traces of damage as the gusts of sand resume their assault. 'I will sssshow you, if you let me.' Finally that tendril of serpentine darkness creeps forward, hanging back and forth in the air in front of Lanlan, it's body twisting and contorting with odd flashes of imagery. The image of an ouroboros flickers into being, being morphing into that of a weapon, and binding to Lanlan's person, causing something inside him to shine. A brightness that seems to vaporize the world around Lanlan so there's nothing except him, that light, and the sliver of darkness that dances before him. 'Accept me, so I can sssseee thisss.' And as it slithers through the air towards the illusionist, it's body shifts into a scene that is apt to be less familiar to Lanlan, but entertaining all the same- of Luffy dragging the Kensai's body along the ground by a shattered looking arm. 'Sssso you can.' || Kasyr , for his part, is currently in the process of sliding down to the ground, his back to the tower- and his eyes flickering between his student, and who he recognizes as, "Marielle. She's . . . She was my daughter." He lets that hang for a few moments, before he quietly adds, "Her mother killed her." It's the indistinct vision of her that forces him to stare back at the nightmarish version of Quintessa, one hand covering his mouth, as it dawns on him just what she said "You drank poison. To follow me? " The image of the girl grows more distorted, trickles of blood starting to leak from her mouth as she flickers in and out of focus, "I -die-. Et...you, what? Decide now's a good time, as well." His hand draws up to his forehead, first to press back his hair, but then finding a comforting familiarity in the cigarette that had been envisioned there. "I'm not even. . . " There's a glance given towards the hellish landscape, a waver in his voice, in the certainty of the statement, "I'm not going to stay dead. That's not how that works. How it worked." His hands clench, crushing the cigarette between his fingers as he tries to make sense of things- and failing every second of the attempt. Instead, he's simply left watching as the phantasmal image of Marielle sinks to her knees, and then collapses to her stomach. Is that how it happened. . . ? Without a distraction, this place is apt to try and help him envision it better, helpfully provide alternative ways those final moments could have stretched out.

Lanlan watched in amusement as the scene around him melted back into the black sands of hell, all except for the table with Luffy's detached eyeball. Lanlan nods and gestures with his open hand. "Of course I'll let you." The slithering snake of shadow dangles before him, and seems peculiar and out of place, even in this dream. His head tilts curiously as it evolves into a paradoxical creature, and then evolves again into a weapon. Of course Lanlan's favorite part of the show, is when it melds its aura with Lanlan's and the entire world is disintegrated. "I want to accept you," he assures Gospel while it greedily creeps. "But first..." Now that Lanlan has a small piece of what he believes is the thing speaking to him, he focuses on it. "...Let's see you." His power of illusion is greatly amplified here, and he uses it to begin peeling away layers of what Gospel has created. Two dimensional sheets of 3D pictures curl back, revealing another layer of space, and another, and another. Eventually what Lanlan hopes to do is strip away every layer of distraction Gospel is wielding to hide himself and reveal what he really is.

Mahri :: In the world of the waking and non-dream-invading, a lycan wakes up in a room unfamiliar to her with a pounding headache. With a groan, Mahri raises her hand to cover her eyes before opening them slowly and rolling to her side. She didn't panic. Things like this had happened before but usually after a night of binge drinking and she was pretty sure that wasn't the cause of the pain behind her eyes. Hoping that there's a bowl or something on the side of the bed, either of them, Mahri loses what little is in her stomach. Well that's better now. Blinking open silvery eyes, the wolf pushes herself up to a sitting position and swings her legs over the edge. Taking a look around memories come slowly. Kasyr, near death's door. Tessa desparate for a way to save him. The animals and wild man dead in cages. Getting to her feet it takes a moment and a steadying hand on a bedside table for the dizziness to go away. Mahri needed something to eat but there didn't appear to be any servants available to get her anything. Oh well, she'll just wander around until she finds the kitchen herself. During those wanderings, she managed to find the room Kasyr was in. Only he isn't alone. Tess would have been expected, though not on the floor and with her robe in the clutching hand of a stranger - a drow by scent. A low rumbling growl rises in her throat as she rushes forward, checking first Kas then Tess to note that they were, surprisingly still alive. Belladonna scented the air around the changeling and drow -- half drow?-- she isn't sure. "Gods be damned, Tessa, what did you do?" Surely she had her reasons and perhaps it best that the lycan stick around to find out what. Hopefully she hadn't taken enough to kill her.

Quintessa murmurs and shakes her head slowly in her sleep. She's clearly having a nightmare. "Marielle..." she whispers, before she relaxes again. If Mahri were to check Quintessa's vital signs, she'd see that the changeling's pulse was weak, but stable. She would soon recover. However, currently she was stuck in the hellish dreamscape of Kasyr for an undermined amount of time. Within the nightmare, Quintessa flicks her snake-like tongue in Marielle's direction. "Your child?" She wasn't aware he ever had children, but it was no matter since apparently she had been murdered by her own mother. With reptilian apathy, she slinks away from the blue-haired lass and coils around one of Kasyr's arms. "It'sssss fine. I don't plan on dying here. There ssssomething we must do. Sssssomething I must help you achieve." Quintessa began to revert back to normal, the presence of Gospel temporarily distracted enough that its grip on her mind began to wain, dissolving the serpent visage. "You're not dead. I saved you. I dragged you from Trist'oth and had a friend heal you." Without her forked tongue her speech also returned to normal. "What do you mean you won't stay dead? You're not undead anymore. You're vulnerable now."

Mahri 's eyes flicked from one face to the other. Chests were rising and falling. Heart beats were beating. All seemed well. So far. Still, the lycan's fingers reach for the dagger sheathed at her thigh. The silver blade finding a place on the floor next to her as she settles in to wait for someone to wake up. Mostly those cold eyes were leveled on the grey one.

Kasyr doesn't quite know where to look at first when Quintessa takes hold of him, but as her features soften from scales to skin, it becomes increasingly easy to allow her to arrest his attention. Almost in tandem, the spectre of Marielle ripples, and then flickers into inexistence, like a candle being snuffed out as it's robbed of it's audience. He can't hide the suspicion that creases his features, the hesitation that remains in his voice as he waits for the moment that this, too, proves to be another cruel prank by this place- but he still finds himself answering all the same, "I made a pact with Daedria. To be her sword for as long as I live, et in turn, she ensures I keep living. Even if..." His lips purse, the rest of the statement trailing off- and not entirely due to his inherant hesitance to finish that statement. | That coiling black wisp may as well be a loose seam in this place, a thread begging to be tugged. Certainly, it may resist at first, though only just enough that it remains a tantalizing temptation to continue- promising some delightful catastrophe if only one were to continue. And perhaps the process might even absorb enough of the illusionists attention that he might not notice the way that the light begins to give way to the familiar darkness of the sands. Perhaps the way that wisp of smoke coils upon itself, or the way blackened tumours of scaled flesh extend out from it's diminuitive form in defiance of conservation of mass might prove distracting enough that he fails to notice the way the sands are shifting- threatening to swallow even the great caliginous structures which scrape and lash against the sky. Quintessa and Kasyr are far more unlikely to miss it, however, their adjacency allowing them to bear witness to the sudden fluidity of that ominous pillar, and the way it seems to shudder and shift underground. There's a sense of triumph that accompanies that sibilant hiss, as the fragment of itself continues to expand outwards, growing into the sand to meld with it's dreamy counter-part. Soon, very soon, that desert is apt to give way to a contorting mass of scale, spiraling about those present.

Lanlan is fairly certain that he's isolated his target, and as he strips away its facade, only feels triumphant. The world around him may change, but that's what he expected. As was his will, cracks in the dreamscape would slant through the sky and the ground, and then peel away in strips, leaving only what was originated in Kasyr's subconscious and the extra entities who were trespassing there. What one layer of stuff portrayed wasn't worth noticing, was put there as a distraction. He knew! The wispy worm was the only thing Lanlan cared about. It was more important that he doesn't let it escape his focus. It being very very ugly seemed like a good enough reason to hide, Lanlan would too if he looked like that. "There," says Lanlan, confident he has just won an advantage. "Doesn't it feel better to show yourself? Being so ugly like you are doesn't mean you need to hide from -me-." Lanlan used his dreamweaving skills to fasten a tiny red bow to the floating pulsating worm. Of course Lanlan knew he was being extremely condescending, but gaining the upper hand allowed for that. "Before we talk about how we can help each other, what do I call you?"

Quintessa feels the heavy pressure of Gospel's presence again, this time from above as Kasyr explains his connection to Daedria. Paladin stuff, she assumed. She knew very little about the Devine magics that governed deities, from the asendi all the way up to the elder gods. Quintessa had, however, heard of the kensai's title of Daedria's blade, she just was unaware of the pact he had made. The changeling is about to further question him too, but the way the moon Ark'Nuk begins to peel away right before her mismatched eyes distracts her enough to forget her question. The giant serpent that dwells within is slowly reveled to her, the odd girl who had been manipulated by it so many times before. "The spirit of Arh'Nuk is..." She swallows hard, remembering the brief conversation she and Kasyr had at the Mage's Tower. "Gospel." The realization hit her psyche like a ton of bricks, causing her to dissociate as she stares at the massive serpent. Memories came flooding back of the Celestial Celebration, when the crimson light from Arh'Nuk fell upon her, gifting her the magical protection she had wielded ever sense. It was a whisper then, urging her to get stronger. Telling her she was more powerful than her peers. Quintessa's pupils dilate as she sinks further into the flashback, the voice getting stronger. She recalls being in her room, about to strike the Cenril Razurath, the voice of 'Arh'Nuk' in her head telling her not to show mercy, to betray the peaceful Razurath to set her on the path to power. She recalls confronting Karasu's lover, the crimson voice of the moon telling her to poison him with vampire blood and silver. Telling her that in order to have the things she wanted, she had to be strong enough to take them. Convincing her that the Mage's Guild was purposely holding her back out of fear of her, that she should break their rules and study the most forbidden magic. Whispers telling her that with Larewen gone, that House Dragana was her birthright. That the Dark Forest was hers to dominate and control. That all of the Dark Lands should be her domain. She believed all of it. "This is Gospel." Quintessa knew in her heart that these feelings were true. "My guide."

Kasyr 's trying to find something to hold onto as the world falls away, anything really- just so long as it isn't the those odious scales which continue to expand before him. He wants to turn and run, and yet the very ground he's standing no betrays him, slithering between his feet as the coils become over more present. It's all he can do to try and right himself, in an attempt to gain some sort of solidity in that moment and reach out towards Quintessa in an effort to take hold of her hand. And he nearly manages- were it not for the brief flicker of hesitation that hits upon her admission, causing him to waver just as shudders of malign laughter ripple through the great serpents form. All at once he's slipping, rolling down it's seemingly endless form and sinking beneath the surface of it's tangled form, leaving Quintessa to bear witness to the way the Snakes visage looms upwards, it's baleful eye briefly overlapping where Ahr'nuk had hung in the false sky. For all of a few moments, that gaze might seem reserved for her, casting her in that same red glow that occured at the celestial celebration and dimming out the rest of the world- before she's unmoored from it's attention. Lanlan has, after all, seen fit to play the part of the jester- 'gifting' it a quaint bowtie which remains even after it's flesh stabilizes into something more truer to itself, that small splash of colour marking just where Lanlan was against that seemingly endless wall of immaculate ebon scales which had knit together before and around him. The answer to the illusionists question doesn't come in it's sibilant tongue, however, Quintessa's voice mirrored with shades of reverence and awe. 'Gospel' . Captured by an otherwordly echo, it hangs in the air for long moments, even as the creature begins to draw it's features down towards the illusionist, jaws widening in a particularily predatorial expression, 'We will do great thingsssss together.' It doesn't show a singular sign of slowing down as it approaches Lanlan either, those colossal jaws snapping forward to drag the half-drow into itself, to briefly drag him before the primordial darkness which rested within it. 'The only thing you need hold sssssacred is yoursssself.' To place him but a hands reach away from the heart of the eldritch creature, caliginous tendrils extending outwards with the promise of power, if only he'd take it.

Lanlan didn't start paying attention to his surroundings until the ugly little worm he was talking is shown just to be a tiny negligible appendage connecting to the curious looking wall that was left behind when there were no more screens. If it weren't for his playful bow, he wouldn't have a clue where his tiny friend just went. The wall glittered under light with a pattern that implied it was fluid, rippling, constantly shifting. But it was all encompassing now. To his left, his right, and behind him, it was all he could see. "..." He opens his mouth but no words come out. He'd been fooled, utterly. Realizing he was in some sort of snare, but unaware of the punchline, he starts running along the wall, hand pressed against the smooth scales, racing toward an edge, an exit. Instead he finds a seam where the wall is seemingly buried beneath itself. That's when he heard the leviathan's laughter, deep and triumphant. It called his awareness to it, and Lanlan finally saw something outside the 'wall'. An enormous serpent, long enough to wrap around the world and strangle it, he thought. He could only stare in awe, "It doesn't make sense. I dispelled all your dreamweaving. Didn't I? I..." It occurred to him, now. The answer was yes. And that was infinitely worse. 'Gossspelll', he hears Quin say, and he sees her now. And Kasyr, truly like a gnat now, the way he's shrugged off the giant snakes form. And somehow he was the lucky one. Gospel aims its eye at Lanlan and his heart sinks. Palpitates. The scaled walls that create Lanlan's prison start coiling rapidly around him, forcing him to the center of the shrinking spiral. There's nowhere else to go and nothing else to look at, Gospel shroud everything. Lanlan can't avoid looking into the nothingness of Gospels maw. And in the absence of anything, Gospel's words guide Lanlan into seeing what he wants to see. Power, respect, esteem. He reaches into it instinctually. Then as soon as he's grasping what he thinks is his truest wish, he's engulfed. The tendrils pull him in. The inky-black void rolls over Lanlan like a crashing wave, spinning him, disorienting him. But within it there's desperate flashes, that struggle to be free of the containment. Flamethrowers stretch the sticky black nothingness to its seems, but are extinguished. Enormous lightning bolts appear as faded twinkles and vanish. Then nothing.

Quintessa grins up at her guardian, her maleficent aura reaching out for the giant serpent as she floats effortlessly between it and Kasyr, barely taking notice as he slips into darkness. "Gospel!" she repeats, waves of pleasure rippling through her body as its crimson glow engulfs her. Power, respect, esteem. Those were the exact things that had been promised and Gospel was giving her a taste of what that would finally feel like. The changeling begins to cackle madly, her arms wrapped around her body as she kicks and rocks back and forth. "Yes, of course, you were the architect behind this whole scheme! You brought the elf here so that I could be reconnected to you. It all makes sense now!" More laughter follows, echoing outward into the empty void around her. "You must have known I needed your guidance again! I know what I must do but I'm not knowledgeable enough yet. Set me on the right path, how can I destroy the barrier?" Quintessa has faith in her guardian, in her tutelar, the Serpent Moon. Gospel will know what she must do next. With her arms outstretched, the changeling gazes into its eye, meeting the attention that was meant specifically for her with admiration that bordered on worship.

Mahri 's eyes dart over the trio, looking for some outward signs of distress or awakening.

Quintessa smiles contently in her sleep, a soft 'hmm' of satisfaction escaping her lips.

Kasyr is lost to the darkness, drowning within a sea of churning scale whose pull upon him grows more oppressive by the moment; a fate which is paralleled in the cruel manner in which Lanlan's final acts of defiance are smothered. The difference, however, is that whilst the Kensai still remains within the dream, Lanlan's time here has come to an end, his consciousness sent violently hurtling through multiple levels of consciousness on the way out. To the world of the waking, where a sickly corruption of the spirit is now seeking to etch itself on the half-drows flesh. Lanlan's work, for the moment, is done- which is why the great serpent turns the whole of it's attention upon Quintessa, basking in the sweetness of her devotion. "You have done sssso well. You have come ssso far." The world seems to shift and contract as Gospel draws closer towards the changeling, an almost hypnotic sway to it's body as it gradually closes the distance "Precioussss Quintesssa." It's not the words, however, that the changeling is meant to heed, because as the ouroboros draws closer, something within it's gaze shifts. The dread light which plays within it's iris warping into a series of images: A flag bearing a serpent and a series of stars, a city beneath the sea, and a palace within But the most important detail is the pair of serpentine figures who play at the center, flickering between these images with a prominence none of the others are afforded - The first is a regal looking Naga , a wild expression on her face, and a snail in her hand. The other lies obscured behind rows of glass vials, hunched over a book that seems to turn of it's own volition, his eyes unseen for a faint glimmer of red which seems to emanate from only half his face. "Pursssue your vengeance. Take what you dessserve."

Kasyr 's probably pouring so much sweat that someone witnessing things would be entirely forgiven for thinking he was in the throes of a fever.

Mahri 's eyes linger on Kasyr, worry furrowing her brow at the amount of persperation wetting his skin. She didn't smell fever, so the reasons would be outside her ken. They'd been sleeping long enough, in her estimation. Getting up, but keeping that blade handy just in case, Mahri walks over to the head of the bed, a hand reaching to touch the Kensai's shoulder with a shake. "Hey. Kasyr. Wake up." He should be able to and that touch confirmed no fever. So why is he swetting so much? Tessa's next with a nudge of her foot, an eye kept on the stranger, "Tess. Wake up. It's time to wake up now." This was just getting worrisome now.

Lanlan begins gagging, even before his eyes open, his throat gurgles. Suddenly he sits up, opens his mouth, and a torrent of the black abyssal goo that comprised Gospel's heart came flooding out of his nose and mouth and spilling over lots of different things near Lanlan. Drowning in the weird blood of a leviathan in a dream apparently was reciprocated in life, to a degree. when the torrent ends, Lanlan falls back down and gasps. So tired from wretching constantly for so long that he could fall right back to sleep if he let himself. He wouldn't though. Eventually the black goo all over him and everything else starts to slowly wither into nothingness, which is fortunate for the other people in the room. There's but one tiny smudge behind Lanlan's ear that seems a little more resilient. He rolls over, reaches his hands and knees, and stays there. He has to pace himself here, he remembers. He got used to having two healthy lungs in the dream. He looks at Mahri. He'd noticed her before, but she obviously wasn't an assassin, so breathing took precedent. "Did you see any of that?"

Mahri :: Is many, many things and the fact that so many underestimate the lycan often works to her advantage. And maybe Lanlan didn't notice that she held a dagger in her hand. She had been watching and had seen. And she wasn't unfamiliar with such things. "I saw. What did you do to them?" Why would Kasyr and Tess not wake up. "I swear to the Gods if you did anything to harm either, it'll be the last fraking thing you do in your miserable life."

Quintessa studies the image, the serpent and stars in yellow. A city she's never seen before. A pair of Naga that she thinks she recognizes. Quintessa finds herself disassociating again, her memories flooding back to the Larket Hero of Freedom Tournament. Of course! This woman was the winner! She defeated both Shishi and Dyraxdiin! This woman's name was... "Reginae." With that piece of knowledge Quintessa knows her time here is finished thus her consciousness jolts back to own body, layers of the dreamscape rushing past her much like it had done to Lanlan. Mismatched eyes of blue and hazel flutter open slowly as the changeling finally awakens. Quintessa's lithe form sits up as the hazy memories of her experiences in the dream realm settle into her mind. "What the hell was that...?" she whispers to herself, looking over her body to make sure she was back to normal. Besides a bit of black goo (which could barely be seen on her black robes) there was nothing out of the ordinary. She gives an ill-humored look at Lanlan and the mess he'd made before she notices Mahri and the strange girl gives her an awkward smile. "Oh. You're awake too, huh?" Quintessa was glad that Mahri had stuck around, she still hadn't gotten a chance to speak with her since she'd arrive. The changeling manages to rise to her feet before casting a disgusted look at Lanlan. "How could we miss it?" she snaps, "It's everywhere!" She would have to make a servant clean this mess up later, but now, she would keep the things she'd learned a secret.

Kasyr finds himself dredged up from the coiled knots of ther serpent, forced into an unwilling stand before it's malicious gaze. The terror that grips at his heart is a familiar one, which recalls many an evening spent drowning his dreams out with alcohol, but there's something about the creature and the sense of satisfaction that it exudes which brings out something obstinate inside him. The moments that pass between the pair as their gazes locked are long and tense, but he manages to hold onto an isle of defiance until at least it's attention seems to stray. All at once, it's body begins to uncoil from him, the solidity it had gained now ceded in favor of more pressing matters, "Kassssyr. I will ssseee you again. Ssssooon." And really, it should be noted that Kasyr manages to do a fairly commendable job of keeping himself together in the wake of it's departure, even as he finds himself waking up with a start...and then promptly retching over the side of the bed when the cumulmination of everything that just happened catches up with him. ..Okay, so many vomiting profusely isn't really keeping it together, but still. At least he's...sort of awake? He just wants to die in a more figurative instead of literal sense now. "Uuugh."

Mahri grumbles something about how lucky Lanlan is and resheathes her dagger to crouch next to Tessa first. "Where the hells else am I going to go, what with you drinking belladonna." She's mad about that and the flint in the eyes that meet Tessa's mismatched pair says so. "Stupid girl." Really, it's worry that has her more than the anger. Silvery eyes flick up to Kasyr as he retches on the floor as well. "If you hurt you know you're alive." At least, that was the lesson she'd learned years ago. Several times even.

Quintessa gently rubs Kasyr's back as he vomits, giving an apologetic look to Mahri. "I'm sorry, but it was necessary to induce sleep. Essence of nightshade is a very common sleep-aid, I promise!" She steps away to look out of the door, lingering in the threshold as she calls for her servants. "Maids! Get in here!" Slowly, a gaggle of vampire maids would begin to file in dressed in stereotypically sexy outfits. Quintessa directs them to clean up the room while she calls for her other vassals to assist Lanlan to the exit. "Thank you for you help, now leave this place. Do not return here unless you have that book. Take him away!" A pair of burly zombie bodyguards make sure the elf makes it outside as Quintessa move to the closet to check for spare clothes. Pale fingers swing the door open as her mismatched eyes take inventory. Once Lanlan is gone she strips her soiled robes and tosses them at one of the maids who yelps in surprise at the sudden assault. The hex blade swiftly slips into a plain, black sundress before turning back to Kasyr and Mahri, her hands placed firmly upon her hips. "At any rate, I shouldn't need to use belladonna anymore." Quintessa moves back to the kensai, placing a slender hand on the back of his head. "Just tell me what I can do to help you, sweetie." The changeling says to him with an unusually sanguine tone.

Kasyr needs a good few long moments for the worst of it to be over, and even when it's done, a feeling of uneasiness rests behind. Weirdly, however, a part of him is grateful for the acrid taste on his tongue, and the intense discomfort that's left in the wake of that experience- because the stark contrast between the present and the swiftly fading fragments of what he'd dreamt of. All the same, the change in locales, and the sound of not only Quintessa's voice, but also that of Mahri is a little bewildering- and it takes the Kensai a little while to gather up his wits enough that he can make the quiet request for, "Water. Please" He can't help the anxious swallow that ensues, but he immediately regrets it for the burning down his throat. All the same, even the irrepressible throbbing of his head can't stop him from asking, "Et what.... did I miss?"

Mahri watches as Lanlan is escorted out. She didn't care, at least he's gone. She frowned deeply at Tessa, clearly unconvinecd of the necessity of drinking poison, even as a sleep aid. Something was slightly different about her young friend, but Mahri couldn't quite put her finger on it. Then, to Kasyr, "You almost died, you idiot." See how much she cares? Doesn't even take credit for him still being here to complain about missing things.

Quintessa moves over to take the pitcher of water that was setting on the end table and fills up a glass with it before leaning down to put it to his lips, "Sip," she tells him, another hand moving up to brush the hair from his face. "You've been through a lot," she says, sugarcoating Mahri's comment. "The Drow betrayed you, but I saved you... Well, Mahri is the one who really deserves credit. Without her you'd still be on my autopsy slab, most likely." Quintessa gives the wolf a genuine smile. "I am in your debt. If there is anything House Dragana can do for you, all you must do is ask."

Kasyr s' primary response to Mahri's statement is to proceed to ignore her for the moment, in favor of weakly lifting up the blanket, so he can better peer down at his stomach and poke at what he last remembered to be his entrails racing each other to evacuate from a gaping wound. "I was there, for that part." If there was any other bits of snark to come, they're figuratively and literally drowned out when he's offered water, greedily sipping at it as the rest of the blanks are filled in. That said, once he's managed to drink as much as his stomach will allow, he settles back a look of concern creasing his features. He feels like he ought to correct this statement, but was she wrong? Lanlan had seemed. . . confused, perhaps dissapointed, that she hadn't murdered him prior to what had happened. "How long have I been..." There's a vague, and somewhat weak gesture towards the room at large, before he settles it back over his chest, "I need to..." figure things out? Fix things? Save the day? It -really- might be late for that at this juncture, and the continued repercussions of that loss in composure seems to rob the Kensai of what strength he'd been trying to gather, leaving him able to do little more than offer Quintessa a tired, but apologetic look, "Thank you."