RP:Dreaming of You

Summary: Mesdoram and Brennia's dreams collide again.

Plane of Dreams

Brennia wakes up in her king sized bed and the faux daylight window of her luxurious room in the palace causes panic in the avian. After flinging the cozy weighted comforters off, she is rushing around her room to slip on one of the many white dresses she’s allowed to wear, smooth her hair down as best she can, and finally she adorns some accessories. “I’m so late! The Queen will be cross,” she softly whines to herself before flinging the door open and sprinting out. It takes her a second to realize that she isn’t in the corridor of the palace, but on a beach. Instantly her heart swells with emotion as it reminds her of home, her bare feet in the silky warm sand and the heat of the sun glistening on her dark tattooed skin. After observing the horizon and the crystal waters rolling up to the white sand beach, she knows that this is home- Island Vere, but she isn’t dressed for the beach? The six foot two woman doesn’t even notice the outfit she chose was a simple white two piece bathing suit as she meanders along the shore side with her wings stretching out for the first time in a long time.

Eventually, she decides to take a seat in the sand since the beach is peacefully empty today and stretches her long legs out to cross one over the other, but she has yet to look behind her for she is scared of what she might find. Island Vere has been shrouded in mystery and lost to time since only avians can find the land, but it is a shame such a breathtakingly beautiful place is only shared by natives. One look at the inland and anyone could tell this society is rich in culture and traditions. The bottom most island is home to more rural avians, but there are two or three floating ones at varying levels above as one seems like a lively metropolis. The Island seems to still be thriving even without a Count of Countess, or so she hopes.

• CRASH!* *THUD!* *CRUNCH!* As quickly as the drow manifests into the Plane of Dreams, Mesdoram hovered for a moment over Brennia’s bed before rapidly descending into the very comfortable mattress; however, the added weight off all his armor and weaponry causes some structure damage to the avian’s bed. After humorously landing on the mattress, the recoil from the springs jettison the drow into a face plant to the wooden floor near the exit. Gathering himself quickly, Mesdoram draws his twin elemental dirks, flashes a terrible scowl towards the bed frame, and aggressively shouts “WHO HAS THE BALLS!?” at the top of his lungs. After taking a few seconds to calm down, the fiercely brazen battle ready Mesdoram surveys the lavished decorate room fit only for royalty and aristocrats alike. “Hmmm… I have not been in one of these rooms in awhile… wait, why am I here?” Searching for answers, the drow turns around to see that the exit leads to a… beach?

The light bulb kicks in. “Ahhh – I have successfully drank myself to another tepid lucid incredibioulsy beautifulamost… what the hell is wrong with my vocabulabily vernaculars?” Despite his increasing word count, Mesdoram seems to realize he has entered another deep sleep, fueled by whiskey and whatever the healers in the infirmary gave him. Cautiously, the drow takes his first step and imprints an impressive foot print with his battle boots; taking a few more strides forward, Mesdoram now relaxes his body language and soaks in the disgusting scenery. “Why is sun that is bright? Sand feels coarsey and soften… am I drunk or something!?” While probably a far stretch, Mesdoram thinks maybe the morphine whiskey combination in the real world is causing him to slur his speech in the dream… he certainly isn’t speaking weird on purpose. Nevertheless, Mesdoram hates the bring sun, the beach, and anything considered ritzy and classy.

Deciding to push on (seeing how much they enjoyed their last hallucination/deep sleep), the drow sees what can only be his beautiful angel lady sitting quietly in the sandy sand of sand… why sand? Even his thoughts are jumbled now! What a powerful herb those Vailkrin healers possess… either way, Mesdoram makes a drunken serpentining path towards Brennia to make words and confortaionaly inquires the… oh for goodness sake – he’s coming to say Hi to Brennia, but appears to be staggering left and right. Wearing his same blacken drow chainmail below his brilliant blue battle robes, Mesdoram stumbles but makes his way next to Brennia; however, the momentum of his last ungraceful step brings the drow to his back in an awkward fall spread out ready to make a sand angel… except he really hates the sand. With an annoyed look staring up at Brennia, the drow offers some coherent words to the avian. “Sand no good – must stop meeting like this.” Nailed it.

Brennia had not noticed how the drow popped up into her dream and waltzed out into the sand to trail her steps after the door to her room disappeared. She was lost in thought at the way each wave tapers off at the shore line and the sudden appearance of a drow laying in the sand next to her causes a slight flinch. She can see the stranger is struggling in the brightness of the sun and one of her large wings unfurls to block out the sun for him. Lush lips slowly shape into a knowing grin and it pokes dimples in her cheeks, "Sapphire. Wonderful to see you as always," it seems the dream part of Bre remembers the man and there is a theory she has begun living a completely separate life in her dreams. Which would she choose if she could? There is an inkling that something is off about this drow… ah, yes- the name 'Hawkeye' comes to mind, but she doesn't feel it would be right to bring that up just now.

"We must?" Her brow knits together in a fake pout of sadness, "but why? It is so very fun and interesting with you around," then she places her weight on her hand as she pushes herself up to stand. A layer of sand sticks along the back of her thighs and calves as she brushes some of the sand off her other hand in order to offer it down to the drunken drow. After helping the man to his feet, her hand lingers within his own for a small moment before letting it fall. "If the sand is no good, Sapphire, where should we be?" Her solid teal hues look down into his silvery ones with expectation in his answer and even though she doesn't realize this is a dream, this is his queue to shape it how he likes this time. "I don't think a drow is allowed on Island Vere anyway." She looks around with slight confusion on her expression, "so maybe this isn't my homeland afterall."

Mesdoram narrows his silvery eyes at the thought of his exclusion anywhere; he is so insulted by this notion that real vitriol seeps through his tone. “Allowed anywhere I please! Damn your customs.” With an angry huff, the delirious drow stomps off furiously in the sand and strides ahead of Brennia. Not even a thank you for picking him up from sand, the rude indignant behavior is enough to make anyone hate Mesdoram or at the very least have second thoughts on having a drow as a friend. But was this reaction in character for the troubled tainted man? Absolutely as he pushes everyone away to give off his lone wolf routine; however, his medical treatment in the real word is fueling an exaggerated rage which seems more theatrical than threatening. Nevertheless, Mesdoram may have alienated his only friend he has left.

After his abrupt insolence, Mesdoram is once again being blasted by the unforgiving ultra-violet waves from the angry sun cascading its judgement on the heavily clothed idiot. Collapsing to the gritty sand about 15 feet away from Brennia, the drow assumes the ‘cat-stretch’ yoga position as he struggles adapting to this bright environment. As Mes breathing becomes more irregular and faster in pace, the oh-so-familiar torture begins festering inside the drow’s mind: the voices return to pester, poke, and prod at his fragile mental health. These voices are not audible to others unless they are keen in some arcane arts and mystical telepathy skills, though those who have been bombarded with similar pain may have an acute sensitivity to hear Mesdoram’s voices.

With his weapons still equipped in each hand, Mesdoram covers his ears in obvious discomfort: the inaudible messages ranging from thoughts to end his life, voices of those he has failed, and a nagging Nariv taking much pleasure in his pain. The heat and the voices are overwhelming is tiny frame as years of disappointment replay in his subconscious repeatedly… suddenly, his elemental dirks both grow a brilliant blue and begins emitting a frigid temperature in the immediate vicinity. With every breath, Mesdoram exhales a foggy mist which seems to come down his rage… but the voices linger on and increase in frequency which infuriates the drow to his breaking point.

“ENOUGH!!” Without warning, Mesdoram instinctually propels his body off the sand and shoots in the air some 15 feet off the ground; completing several acrobatic twists, the drow lands heavily on the sand and stares directly at what he thinks is the source of his anguish: the sun itself. A nasty glare is cast at the celestial star with a determined drow ready to fight. With his blades still glowing a frosty sapphire, Mesdoram furiously flings both his enchanted daggers at the sun. “NARIV!! NOT TODAY TO BE!” His vocabulary is still affected by the real-life pain killers and whiskey. Not surprising in the least, his daggers do not reach the sun but instead falls into the ocean… however, another impressive feat starts manifesting in the water.

First, the water freezes over almost instantly upon impact; the frozen ebbs swiftly and echoes in a full 360 – waves are frozen at their highest crests, the water eroding back from the shore now provide a slick thin layer of ice, and most impressive of all: a huge glacier-like wall begins rising higher and higher out of the icy ocean. This massive structure quickly becomes 200-feet across and 500-feet high and grows exponentially in length and width until the intended specifications are achieved. The purpose of this impromptu construction? Why to block to sun’s harmful rays from killing Mesdoram. The effects of the great ice wall are felt almost immediately – the voices have stopped now, a silence does sweep comfort to the maniac man, and the structure casts enough shade to immediately cool the beach… and cool the temper of the drow for now.

Falling back on his butt back into the sand, Mesdoram peers over almost ashamedly to Brennia. As a couple snowflakes start falling and land on both Bre and Mes, the drow looks away while trying to say clearly. 'I’m sorry, friend. Please don’t kill me… I don’t want to die yet.' But because of his speech being altered, the words that actually come out are “Friend… please kill me… I want to die…” Real shame fills his body as he hides from Brennia, feeling immediate guilt for his brashness and for more than likely making too much of a scene to stay in her dream for long.

Brennia shakes her head and waves her arms, "no - not my custom. I have advocated for a long time that other races should be welcome to Island Vere," she confidently refuses diplomatically. She walks casually beside him in attempts to keep him cool in the shadow of her wings, which was easy for the woman since he is shorter than her and being weighed down by the plethora of armor. "Please don't be cross, Sapphire. I don't hold the same customs as my hubris and arrogant lineage," she attempts to win him back over with a sweet fake pout. "Just try to relax and maybe shed your layer of heavy armor it will-" but she is too late to help as he is collapsing in the sun while she is still trying to protect him from it.

Kneeling next to him, she gently rests her hand on his back while her slightly raspy timbre attempts to soothe him, "hey. It's okay, Sapphire. I'm still here, just hang in there and I will try to find us some proper shade, okay?" She awaits an answer that never comes as he is apparently having a panic attack. "Listen, just take a moment and focus on the sound of my voice," the bard pleads while concern knits her brow together when he covers his ears and she assumes he doesn't want anything to do with her now. Then her skin puckers into gooseflesh as a chill fills the air between them, but she doesn't actually feel cold which is odd.

The avian finches away when the drow shouts before propelling into the air, "oh, nooo." She lifts far off the ground with a single beat of her wings in attempts to catch him and soften his blow back down into the sand, but she misses as it feels like she is floating up too fast and too slow all together. Gracefully, she glides back down next to him. "Are you okay?" She flinches again at more shouting as he seemingly challenges the sun to a duel and she looks down to the drow at her side, "I think we should go find those before the sea makes them lost forever."

She starts to walk toward the shore were the waves are attempting to reach further for the land, but she doesn't make it far as the water as it begins to freeze in frighteningly beautiful peaks and she backsteps to Sapphire, accidentally bumping him gently with one of her velvety feathered wings. "I'm sorry," she offers, sort of leaning down to do so while her gaze is locked to this wall of a glacier suddenly forming in the sea. After slowly lowering down next to him and letting a soft raspy giggle escape her lips when the snow adorns them, she gives him an understanding expression when he speaks again.

"Oh, Sapphire," she leans in to wrap her arms and wings around him in a comforting embrace. If he doesn't shrink away, she remains like this with him for a couple of minutes before sniffling softly and pulling away to wipe her own tears. "As much as I feel the same, we have to press on - I think. There is something I am waiting for and I don't know what it is yet." With a sigh, she tilts her head and shrugs her bony slender shoulders up, "it may not make that feeling of dread go away completely, but it is something - right?"

The abundance of kindness provided by Brennia calms Mesdoram’s spirit successfully; the drow sinks into the woman’s embrace and all but collapses into her arms. Mesdoram longs for understanding, belonging, and dare he say a friend? His tainted nature constantly fights with his elven counterpart Hawkeye and heavily resists all the mental anguish brought upon him by Nariv. Still, in this moment, the avian has provided this man exactly what he needs to press on to fulfill his destiny… no matter how tragic - Her words of press resound in his soul. Fully accepting Brennia’s gentleness, Mes wraps both of his arms around Bre’s left arm not quite ready to fully hug another being yet.

“Why…” Mesdoram starts slowly speaking almost like a stutter, but really he is fighting back all his medicated inducing vocabulary – he’s trying to concentrate and convey his message coherently. “… you are… nice… to me… why?” He adjusts himself a bit to sit butt first into the sand; letting go of Brennia for now, Mesdoram does take her suggestion and removes his battle attire, leaving him dressed only in his long blue robe with his sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

“I… don’t…” Mesdoram internally is fighting to stay present; he, unlike Hawkeye, does not have the luxury of a friend… as much as Hawekeye would like to make an appearance, he will be sheltered for the time being to give Mes a chance to connect with Bre. “How… are you? I’m sorry… are you safe? Does someone… me stab them for you?” The drow looks up to Brennia’s eyes eagerly looking for her answer while studying her facial features… enjoying what he is seeing.

Brennia may only remember one thing from this dream when she wakes and it will probably be the feeling of the two of them melting together in comfort. She gently untangles herself from him when he adjusts himself to sit differently and observes him while he sheds his armor. "Should I not be? Do people consider you to be dangerous, evil or bad?" Her questions can remain unanswered, "I don't really believe in that stuff. There have been horrible things done in the name of 'goodness', but I have also known the opposite. We are all just trying to survive and need a little compassion at least once in our meaningless lives," her facial expression is genuine in caring for others.

"Could you imagine if everyone stopped trying to get ahead by stepping on one another and instead reached out a helping hand every once in a while? This world could be so different," she does reach out her hand to gently rest along the dark skin of his forearm. "I am sorry Sapphire, but even you do not have the authority to deem yourself unworthy of friendship or love," that heart melting smile returns to her lush lips as it holds its own brightness to it, but hopefully nothing Sapphire will shy away from or attack like he did the sun.

The hand that was resting on Mesdoram's arm shifts to cup his angular cheek and her thumb caresses it adoringly. "I am flattered, Sapphire, but I am never important enough to bring anyone harm," she looks far off into those silvery eyes of the drow's while he adjusts to the warm feeling of her silky touch on his cheek. Unfortunately she doesn't give him enough time to register the affection as she leans in head first with aims to place a soft sweet kiss on his lips. She has no idea what is compelling her to do such a thing especially when he could barely embrace her back, but that is Brennia's constant fault - finding companionship in unrealistic options. Whether he accepts her kiss or flinches away, she slowly dissipates and one simple black feather drifts lazily to the sand next to him where she was once sitting.

Brennia's Luxurious Room

The avian slowly opens her eyes and touches her manicured fingers to her lips as glimpses of the dreams come into focus. She rolls over in hopes that the wonderful dream will pick up where it left off, but unfortunately she cannot drift back into sleep. With a frustrated sigh, she scribbles the fading bits she can remember in her dream journal.

Something sobering floods Mesdoram’s tiny figure… a foreign feeling that has evaded this man’s existence since becoming his own sentient entity - belonging. The drow intently listens to every syllable escaping Brennia’s lips; with every word leaving her mouth, the sinister nature of his disappears internally and a much more vulnerable, less violent drow drops his guard briefly… having never meant to exist beyond the cruel punishment of a vindictive elven woman, the memories that weigh him down go wayside in this beautiful moment. For in this momentary moment in, Mesdoram is finally shown and feels what it is liked to be at peace… even if this dream would only last for a few more minutes…

Hearing her speech about surviving and compassion strikes a very tender cord in his soul and calmly responds to her inquiry from earlier. “I… dangerous, yes. But… not to you.” Feeling Bre shift her hand upon his thin jawline further exposes Mesdoram’s shaky and vulnerable state, never having experienced physical touch not intended to cause harm to him. Pressing on, he focuses on Bre’s words about choosing friendship or love… “Love? That’s what Vexar told me…” He thinks back to similar wisdom spoken by his brother Vexar… the words of his elder reverberating and resounding back into Mesdoram’s soul. But however brief this calming thought Vexar is, this excitement gives way as he is reminded of Vex’s fate… and who ended his life.

“Death… will claim me… in a month’s time...” Mesdoram begins to explain this self-fulling prophecy that will claim the life of both Hawkeye and Mesdoram… to the first and only person bothered understanding his torment… he all but wants to spill the secrets of all his life to someone before he dies. But before he can weave the complex tapestry which is his destiny, he is interrupted by Breinna’s intimate kiss. The drow’s eyes raise immediately upon the contact with his own lips, not quite sure how to respond at all. The pressure on his lips have never experienced a kiss before; but something sweet in this moment does spark the gentler side of him and attempts to match Brennia’s passion… attempt being the important word.

For when he closed his eyes and tried to reach for the nape of her neck, Mesdoram’s search came up empty and face plants into the cold frozen sand that Bre once sat in. Spitting out a mouth full of sand, he quickly looks left and right to only see a lone black feather to the side of him. In this moment, the drow expresses several emotions as he takes hold of the souvenir into his grasp: pain… sadness… anger… and ultimately betrayal. “You vexing trickster!” The adrenaline courses with tremendous focus that he suddenly blacks ou-

Back into the infirmary

Still fueled by unbridled rage, a bandaged battle-scarred Mesdoram immediately opens his eyes and jumps off the bed with pure grace onto the hard wooden floors of the infirmary. Several patients and healers nearly soil their pants at the display of the previously drugged out drow; sadly for these innocent bystanders, they possess very few tools to quell Mesdoram’s fury now. Taking grip of his bed, the drow powerfully flings his furniture wildly to the adjunct wall where shelves of medicine, glass ware, and potions explode upon impact. His assault does not stop there as he catches a poor soul whose only crime is making eye contact with Mesdoram; almost at super natural speed, the drow has grabbed the healer who was taking care of him during his coma-like state. Lifting the medic with both hands wrapped around his scrawny neck, a pissed off Mesdoram tightens his grip and angrily interrogates this man.

“WHO ARE YOU?! What drugs did you use?! WHY ARE YOU SENDING ME TO A DREAM?! You want me dead?! ARE YOU WORKING FOR HER?!” The ambiguous nature of ‘her’ certainly could reply to either Nariv or Brennia in this moment; either way, Mesdoram feels threatened by Nariv and betrayed by Brennia. The other patients and doctors scream in a panic and beg Mesdoram to stop before he kills this healer… and Hawkeye listens to their pleas… with a quick flash of his blue eyes, Mesdoram is distracted enough and immediately releases his healer… and looks around in horror to the carnage he’s created in such a short time. Gasping desperately for air, the fallen man is already surrounded by those who can heal him… while Mesdoram’s emotions continue to overwhelm his psyche… he watches his nervous shaking hands in shock and bolts up the stairs to escape – not from retaliation, but from his shame and disappointment in feeling abandenment by Bre.