RP:Gilded Cages

Summary: Brennia is trapped in a gold cage within her dream and a curious drow she affectionately names 'Sapphire' appears to keep her company. The drow seems aware that they are in a dream while it is all still quite real to the avian.

Plane of Dreams

Brennia has been accepting sleep a little easier lately since it feels like the only time she can actually 'escape' Alithrya even though she put herself there and wants to keep herself there for Queen Reginae. Seems that since she is living in some sort of waking nightmare, the actual nightmares of working on a thrall farm have receded into the far off depths in her mind. At least her room is luxurious and comfortable, so after her fingertips are sore from practicing her pedal harp, she finally slumps down into the silk sheets adoring her king size bed and lets her large black as night wings drape over the sides of it.

Solid teal eyes blink open in attempts to peer through the darkness of her dream coming into focus, but disappointment shapes her soft features as she is still dressed in a gold colored cocktail dress. Looking down, all she can see are the faint welts left from the whips the goblin used on their thrall farm mixing with the black intricate tattoo pattern covering most of her dewy bronze skin. Her long silky hair is pulled up into a neat bun, accentuating her long tapered ears and thus her slender neck curving into bony shoulders is left exposed as well. She starts to walk, bare feet feeling cold on a solid surface, until gold plated poles give her pause and suddenly she realizes that she is stuck in a large golden bird cage. Her wings unfold to give one beat, the force of it pushing her to the top, but she finds no escape. When she lands, she feels like she is running in quicksand as she follows the cage wall until she finally comes to a door, but of course there is a golden filigree padlock on the gate. "Merde," her defeated raspy voice curses sharply while giving the gate a rough shake and it sends out a beautiful bell-like sound. In attempts to see where she even is, she peers out into the darkness, only to see vague shapes of trees and buildings set against the golden hour of a sunset.

Mesdoram blinks multiple times and finds himself in a most unusual situation – the drow had spent another night in his Underdark dwelling drinking whiskey to excess in attempts to quell the voices inside his head. Instead of a drunken stupor whisking him away to bliss, somehow or another he has been transported to a very lucid dream. “Whoa… that must have been some good drink… maybe Nariv finally got the stones to poison me.” Shaking his hands in front of his face, he begins to pat his body all around to see what has been transported with him into this Dream Land: the drow is currently equipped with light armory including a set of ebony chain-mail which is underneath his blue battle mage robes, his elemental-dirks secured snugly around his waist held by his sturdy utility belt, but no spiked gauntlets or battle boots to protect his hands and feet – instead, just a pair of casual sandals to finish his attire.

The drow man surveys his situation and attempts to gather his sense of direction; glancing around the environment, he believes himself to be on the edge of a forest line growing darker and darker with the sun setting quickly on the dark drow. “Well then, this could be fun…” Before he can complete another thought, Mesdoram hears the loud sounds of clangs and frustration that resonate throughout the void somewhat like a church bell. Peering upward to the source of the sound, he sees a shiny structure hanging haphazardly and swaying side to side; with the sun setting rapidly, he cannot make out what this device is – only that it reflects the sunlight directly back to the drow’s face from quite a distance.

“A shiny beacon guiding me? This is too easy… and obviously a trap.” The drow thinks to himself... then suddenly becomes enraged. “How dare my dreams try to trick me!?” Shouting loudly to the mysterious golden structure, Mesdoram begins running towards the cage with rapid speed – much faster than he can in real life. “IF THIS IS ANOTHER TRICK, NARIV, IT WILL BE YOUR LAST!” With any luck, Mesdoram will find his way toward Brennia sooner rather than later – this being the drow’s first trip in the Plane of Dreams, his navigational skills will be a bit rusty.

Brennia is still too disoriented to realize she is in a dream just yet and she hears some commotion of shouting below. As she peers down, she can see a figure, but then the towering tree her cage is dangling precariously on starts to sink into the earth smoothly. Lower- lower- lower, at an uncomfortable speed that makes her stomach do flips and she falls to her knees while hugging her arms around the gold poles to her cage. Afraid the thing is going to crash into the ground, she pinches her eyes to shut tight and prepares herself for the calamity, but it surprisingly lands gingerly on the lush grass and her eyes slowly open to see a man’s dark feet in sandals. Part of her feels relieved it isn’t her vampiric ex plaguing her dreams again and eventually she looks up from her perspective still on her knees to find a drow. Man, she’s never formally met a drow and for a moment she appreciates the alabaster locks complimenting the stranger’s handsome dark features.

Something starts to materialize around his neck and the gold necklace glistens against his blue robes. Alas, there is the key in all its gold glory, but why would this stranger have a key to her cage? Did he put her here? Where even is ‘here’? There is familiarity about his face and she swears she has seen him somewhere before! Her large feathered wings fold closely to her slender frame while she stands at her natural six foot two height and now has to look down at the drow. “Greetings,” her velvety alto timbre offers before she puts on her charming smile that shapes lush lips and pokes dimples in her cheeks, “could you please help me out of here?” She curves a tattooed hand around one of the cage poles to aim a white tipped pointy nail at the lock, punctuating with a soft tap on the cold metal. This could be a quick way to figure out if the man will be cruel and keep her in the cage of her own making or show some kindness to let her out, but there is still the very real possibility that he locked her in here! Forget the fact she just heard him scream a very real threats that someone named Nariv.

Mesdoram moves with great velocity… more quickly than his normal strides. As he travels the great distance from the forest edge to the shiny golden beacon, the drow looks down to see his feet almost disappear into a blurry frenzy due to how fast he’s traveling now. “Am I still in Vailkrin? Has the spell cast on me and Leralynn not been lifted?” Either way, Mesdoram does not dwell on why his dexterity and agility has been given a dramatic boost. As he sprints across the terrain, he hears a somewhat familiar voice from high; he hits the brakes and digs his heels and creates 30-foot twin ditch-like craters as he comes to a complete stop just under the base of the metal cage. '"Greetings"? No one has ever greeted me with words before… how is this not a trick?' The devilish drow thinks silently to himself.

‘BOINK!’ Something metal smacks Mesdoram in the face – the key that materialized around his neck strikes the drow due to the abrupt stop in the drows forward momentum. Like a rubber band stretched to its limit, the chain snaps back causing the hard key to recoil off Mesdoram’s left check. Upon hearing ‘Could you help me?’ from the imprisoned stranger, Mesdoram’s rage boils over after being attacked. “Oh, you want help!?” Shouts the enraged drow. “You draw first blood?! HERE COMES YOUR HELP!!” Testing the limits to this foreign realm, Mesdoram drops into an athletic stance and propels himself into the air – his thought process being ‘If the spell from my duel with Orange has not been dispelled, surely I can make this jump.' And Mesdoram is right… but his experiment is deeply flawed as his hypothesis is put to the test.

The drow shoots upwards like a cannon and comically overshoots Brennia’s cage by a good 20 feet. Struggling desperately to slow down his trajectory, Mesdoram unapologetically flails wildly with all his limbs – like a wild cat frantically trying to land on its feet. As Mesdoram descends rapidly, he attempts to redirect his flight-path to the golden cage and successfully gets his hands wrapped around the jail-like rods imprisoning the avian woman. For whatever reason, the drow lands very softly and does not cause the cage to swing back and forth too precariously – almost the same amount of force likened to a gentle breeze. Gathering his bearings, the still angry man begins questioning Bre. “Why have you brought me here?! Who do you think you are!?” Just when he’s about to ask another question, Mesdoram remembers interacting with Bre and her entourage at one of the Blood Bowl Tournament. “Ah – the angel lady.” Still not quite sure of the situation, the drow puts up his tough guy front for now. “I ask again, why have you brought me here… and why would I free you? So you may attack me? Did Nariv command you to do this? If so, you will not like where this evening takes us.” As he holds on comfortably to the cage, the drow patiently waits for Bre’s retort.

Brennia flinches her hand back within the confines of the cage as her brow knits together in confusion. "Sir-" she starts, the stranger seems hell bent on showing off. She blinks a couple of times to watch him leap up into the air far above her cage, which is impressive given the fact that it is large enough for her to fully open her wings and fly around a teeny bit. Almost like a two story house - or at least it seems that way to her. Her fingertips gently press against her lips to keep the desire to giggle at his flailing down and she is successful for now. "Me?!" There is genuine shock and offense in her tone. She cannot help the deja vu feeling when she is asked 'who do you think you are' in her dream again as it seems to be a common theme. With a couple beats to her wings, she sits herself on the swinging perch within the cage while having to look up at the drow now that he's gripping the top of her cage which doesn't seem so large anymore.

"You're the one with the key to -my- cage. How do I know you're not the one who put me here," she asks with the narrowing of her eyes as she rests her head against the chain to her perch. Surprise shapes her expression when she is referred to being an 'angel' and how odd it sounds on a drow's lips because it almost sounds affectionate? Does this guy have a crush on her or something!? Not likely. "Please," she sighs defeatedly and her wings slump behind her, "I couldn't win a fight against a damn fly. I am too thin, cannot train without getting easily winded and lost my bard powers," she casually admits. Wow - this is far too much information to be handing over to a perfect stranger! Below her feet she can see a dark mist tying itself in knots and somehow she knows that only she can see it… has that always been in this cage with her? Brennia doesn't know how, but she knows whatever that is - isn't good. "I don't know this Noreav you speak of," she looks back up at the drow's face.

"I don't know why you should free me, sapphire," she names the drow because of his blue robes. "Maybe I belong here," she muses while keeping in mind the evil she is trapped with and decides that if the cage is opened then it will escape with her. She would rather suffer alone than let something like this wreak havoc on anyone else. The key disappears from around the drow's neck now that the avian accepts her fate. The sun has finally fully set, but she can still see the handsome features of the man's face, "who is this Nurav you keep shouting about anyway? Your beloved?"

Mesdoram listens to Bre’s weaving her counter arguments to explain the situation – slowly but surely, the drow starts putting some of the puzzle pieces together. Mesdoram takes hold on one of the golden prison rods and slides down the pole like a fireman descending to a lower floor. Landing at the base of the cage, the drow picks up on the disrespectful tone Bre addresses Nariv in and concludes that Bre is not his enemy. “Ahh, so you hate Nariv too? She is definitely a snake among the sheep waiting to inject venom to her next sucker. My beloved?!” Mesdoram can’t help but burst into over-the-top obnoxious laughter and sarcastically slaps his knee in delight. “The only thing I’d love to do to her is smash her head with boots.” With that said, Mesdoram regains his composure and thinks of a way to set Bre free.

Easily sliding in between two of the many prison rods, Mesdoram walks around the cage’s inside perimeter to survey the captive avian’s predicament. Arriving at the locked gate, Mesdoram pulls as hard as he attempts to rip the hinges of the door with pure blunt strength – but to no avail. Slipping back outside, Mesdoram keenly studies the mechanisms keeping Brennia imprisoned; he finds a weak spot! Pointing to where there is a key hole, Mesdoram snaps his fingers at Brennia and begins explaining the bad news. “It would appear that the door is locked!! But we will need a key…” Remembering that a key is conveniently around his neck… wait… where did it go? “Oh no!” Mesdoram panics and checks all his pockets for the missing key, but his search has come up empty. Apologetically, the drow slowly slips through the spaces and sulks a bit. “There is no way in or out, it would seem… I dropped the key somewhere…” He says standing inside the gate… either he is really drunk, or the conditions of Plane of Dreams have completely overwhelmed his consciousness.

“Well, my winged angel…” The normally vicious drow somberly declares as he jumps up upon the swinging perch to accompany Brennia. “It would appear we are now stuck inside the cage forever now… at least I can die far away from that witch… maybe I can even be myself if you can keep a secret. Because if you blab… I will kick you out of this cage forever and deny ever saying anything.” As predicted, Mesdoram has no clue of the black mist nor if he could even see that amalgamation if he tried to search for it. “You… you lost your powers too, huh?” Pulling out a dream bottle of whiskey, the drow offers Bre a drink. “This usually makes the voices go away for me. Maybe it can help you too?” With that said, Mesdoram looks at the sun setting with a very uncharacteristic peaceful look. Whether he understands this new plane of existence, the drow enjoys his lucid dreamlike situation.

Brennia means no disrespect toward someone she doesn't even know, but every time Sapphire says the name, it sounds all distorted and foreign. She nearly wants to correct the man, because she could hate no one, but maybe there is a small grin on her lips when she learns this mysterious Nariv is not his betrothed and his laughing is contagious. When he slips into the cage with her, she cautiously watches the black mass in the middle as she fears it will attack him, but it stays put as if waiting for Brennia. So, she decides to stay put for the time being while watching the man weave in and out of her cage with ease. Could this be a cage of her making? When he realizes that he lost the key, she softly pouts while watching him sulk, "I am sorry, Sapphire."

She makes room for him on her perch and turns her head towards him, "it does appear that way," but he can leave whenever he wants, apparently. Concern knits her brow together as she asks, "be yourself? Of course you can and I'll never say a word about it," who is she going to tell?! Sapphire? A slight nod of her head is given in response to his question about her powers, "I guess dying, or coming close to dying, does that to you." There is sadness in those big solid teal hues, but then she is smiling again and it pokes dimples in her cheeks once more when he is so kind as to offer her some of his drink. "That is so thoughtful, thank you," she accepts the gesture in the form of a flask, their fingertips caressing past each other and then she takes a sip with a wince as the dream whiskey burns on the way down.

After giving his flask back, she leans down some in order to rest her head on his shoulder, "be careful what you wish for. You may miss those voices one day, Sapphire. I know I miss mine," she muses while watching the sunset through the bars of what is now their cage. "What worked for me was finding balance and making compromises with the voice in my head. Eventually, we worked well together." Typically, she isn't so open about the troubles Raven has given her, but if she is going to be trapped with a stranger then why not?

Mesdoram receives his flask back and listens somewhat intently to Bre’s words as he stares out into this foreign realm’s darkening scenery with the sun almost fully set. One word the drow does focus on is “Sapphire” the avian keeps calling him; this name stirs some butterflies in the tiny man’s frame. The cherry on top is when the woman elects to rest herself on his miniature but stocky excuse of a shoulder. Physical contact is not something the drow is accustomed to feeling… unless the feeling was the receiving end of blade or knife seeking to end his life. The combination of all these unaccustomed gestures causes his eyes to turn their true color: blue sapphire orbs now adorn Mesdoram’s irises – a happy happenstance that Bre has made with calling him Sapphire.

“I do not mean to be abrasive with these next words, but I don’t think my dead wife would approve of this dream I am having.” What a charmer this drow is… or is he? Along with his sudden eye color change, Mesdoram begins slowly but surely changing his appearance – it would appear him remembering his wife and past has triggered a transformation: the first change Brennia would feel is Mesdoram’s height change as he returns to his more natural 5’11 frame (her head would be slowly rising as Mesdoram grew); next to go would be his clothes fading into nothing but a ragged pair of slave pants revealing his incredibly emaciated 120 lb frame; then, Mesdoram’s skin returns to a pale white complexion safe from the sun for many years, and his alabaster locks growing longer and more blonde; finally, names begin appearing as tattoos or battle scars all over his arms, legs, and torso – some 30 to 40 names etched into his flesh. Though these markings look crude and roughly sketched at the moment, there is no pain or blood dripping from any of these violently drawn letters. Without intention, Mesdoram is back to true form: an elven man named Hawkeye.

The strange thing during all of this is Mesdoram seems oblivious that he is back to his normal self as he stares off aimlessly to catch the finally glimpse of sunlight fading away. “She…” A very noticeable and more docile voice escapes his mouth as Hawkeye’s elven tone has also made a return.” …she is one of the many voices I still hear… a very melancholy and cruel constellation prize of her passing…” Even with his voice returning, Hawkeye remains unaware that he has returned. With his weakened grip around his almost empty flask, Hawkeye takes another sip of his favorite whiskey and stares very astutely to both Bre’s and his imprisonment. Shaking his head, the elf satiates his thirsts while making a very despondent metaphor to describe their current predicament. “It would seem we are both victims caged within ourselves; destined to suffer and fade into obscurity while someone else puppeteers our own minds…”

Brennia only called him sapphire because of his blue robes, but soon she will be referring to the mysterious stranger as sapphire because of his kind eyes. Maybe drow don't typically have kind eyes, but Brennia cannot imagine describing them any other way. The avian is a physical being as physical touch comforts her and she is usually reserved until she knows someone a little better to initiate such things because not everyone likes to be touched. Something about the man makes her feel comfortable and they are somehow kindred spirits even though that might just be the dream mental fog. Even one of her black as night velvety feathered wing curves around him, draping across his shoulders like the most expensive blanket, in attempts to extend some comfort for whatever reason.

Nothing is making sense even though everything is feeling right. She belongs in this cage and deserves to be alone even though there is no reasoning as to why this drow is here with her. "I don't consider that abrasive, I find it admirable…" Then his admission of this being a dream strikes her as odd, "is this a dream?" Her head doesn't move from his shoulder as she lifts her gaze up towards him and tilts her head back ever so slightly in her quizzical expression because she is still not aware of such a thing. The avain does notice that she doesn't have to bend quite as much so her head could reach his shoulder now he is only a few inches shorter, but the shifting shape isn't new to her because she knew someone who could do that once even though they shifted into animals and not other races.

Now she lifts her head from his shoulder and gently rubs her hand along his back under the cover of her wing as she catches his gaze, "I am so sorry, Sapphire. I know how it feels to miss someone you were romantic with in that way and their death feels like a constant weight on your heart. I have a feeling that we will make it through," she caresses some of his alabaster locks to be tucked neatly behind his tapered ear. "We just have to find a way to use the light they had shone in our lives in honor of how they lived," there is a soft sad smile on her shapely lips before she goes back to resting her head on his shoulder again while the hand that was rubbing along his shoulder blades slips between his side and elbow to rest her arm along the top of his thigh. With her hand gently patting his forearm resting there as well, she asks, "would you like to tell me about her?" When was the last time he honored his late wife's memory?

Hawkeye peers over to the woman who is comforting both him and herself… Bre is more than kind to Hawk, something he and Mesdoram have not felt much of as of late. Within all the comfort Brennia provides, a sad thought passes through his mind thinking of his fallen comrades and his wife on that day. Seeming to be more in tuned with this dream scenario, the man feels this woman, whomever she is, is a real person in the outside world (maybe from a tournament is his best guess); though he cannot rationalize why the two’s path have crossed, Hawkeye elects to find solace in the fact he’s currently free from Mesdoram’s manifested personality and of Nariv’s deviant trickery. Hearing Bre’s question, the elf decides to use his own mental fortitude to bend some reality of his own.

“I… do not believe I can adequately tell you…” Hawkeye starts and grabs his whiskey flask with both his hands. With a little bit of hand skill and willpower, the elf manipulates the metal into a malleable clay-like liquid substance which he holds in front of the kind Bre’s eyes. Little by little, Hawk’s vision and craft starts taking the shape of a ceramic box – gifted to both him and Vexar from their father many years ago. A glass prism rests in the opening of this enchanted cube with an open slot in the most inner section of the device. Hawkeye extends his right hand outward open as if he’s asking to hold Bre’s hand; instead, one of his elemental dirks blessed by Princess Thea starts manifesting molecule by molecule. Perhaps Bre does meet Hawkeye’s hand which now grips the hilt of his favorite weapon; regardless, the elf gently places the glowing blue-blade into his father’s projection device, finishing with. “But I can show you my last memory of her."

As those words echo throughout the cage, the magic box begins working its magic. Little by little, an astral protection perfectly displays a very sad and somber sight: in what appears to be a light snow, a mighty elven warrior bloodied and bruised throughout his heavy armory knelt and cradling his wounded wife in his arms. This petite woman appears to be bleeding profusely through the man’s soaked white rag with her body being devastated by a terrible poison coursing through her veins; her blue eyes seeking comfort as fear pours throughout her face. “I know, sweetheart… but you've got to keep breathing!” The panicking man tells her desperate to save his love’s life. “Will someone get a healer here, will you!?” The elf shouts into the void looking around urgently and hopelessly for any assistance.

It is then in this moment of despair a weak and bloodied hand caress the elven man’s cheek, causing the emotional elf to look down at the source: his wife, hanging on by a thread, smiles and mouths her final words to Hawkeye… not enough strength or breath in her lungs to fully convey the message she would love to leave him with… blood seeping through his bare knuckles that are still applying the pressure to save her from suffering a painful fate… only til… her right hand falls swiftly into the snow below her frame, her body becomes heavier as she loses the battle with the poison… and her beautiful blue eyes become lifeless… staring back into the already weeping Hawkeye.

As the projection presses his forehead to weep over his dead wife, the Hawkeye next to Bre begins talking again. “She was an innocent woman… her time cut short by my bloodthirsty nature and past misdeeds catching up to me… I found her assassin and stared death into his eyes and ripped his spine out of his body… with just a blink and a thought.” This gruesome revenge story over, the real-life Hawkeye turns the hilt of his weapon counter clockwise which shuts of his machine. “I don’t know how much life I have left in me, and I don’t know how long Mesdoram and Nariv will allow me to have this moment… but I’m happy to have it.” With all the foreign comfort provided to Hawkeye by Brennia’s kindness, Hawk takes a moment to tap her head resting on his shoulder. “My name is Hawkeye, and you’re the first person I have met in 15 years…”

With that, Hawkeye offers Bre his magical box. “Is there something else you would like to see? This box can show memories and help you see more clearly when you are lost like me..."

Brennia sees the offered hand and it takes her a second, but she slowly raises her hand with aims to place it within his own. Then she sees the weapon materialize and she has to awkwardly pretend she was about to tuck some of her hair behind her long tapered ear. The cringe misstep is quickly forgotten as she is watching a memory of this man right before her eyes! This is amazing and heartbreaking all wrapped in one and the avian isn't afraid to wear her emotion right on her sleeves as tears roll down, she manages to catch them before they fall on Sapphire. "She was beautiful and I think she knew she was loved very much by you," she finally lifts her head to look at him when he introduces himself. "It is wonderful to make your acquaintance, Hawkeye, and I am happy to have this moment with you as well," she leans in to place a gentle kiss from her velvety warm lips on the apple of his cheek.

"Oh?" She ponders while looking at the box before gingerly plucking it from his hand, waiting for whatever magic it needs to make it work. When the projection starts, there is Brennia, curvaceous and much more illustrious than she is now with no scars on her thighs from whips. The projection of herself whips her head over her shoulder with startle in her expression after trying to reach for a wine bottle along a wine cellar wall before chaos ensues. A lycan is tearing through the place with abandon, causing that same wine shelving to come tipping down on the avian and then sprinting from view never to be seen again… leaving the avian crushed under a heavy shelf. The perspective shifts to see Brennia's face through one of the holes of the shelf and they watch as life leaves her solid royal blue eyes with a nasty cut on her forehead causing a deep red trail to flow down her temple.

Suddenly the tattoo pattern on the projection version of herself starts to twitch and swirl around before siphoning off the avian in a fit, taking the form of an inky black tornado until finally shaping into the silhouette of a slender woman with wings. The inky entity plaguing her for years appears to be panicking at the loss of what Brennia always thought was her adversary, but attachments are complicated. With surprising strength, the inky entity tosses the shelf off of Brennia and pulls her away from the wine cellar to safety in the hallway, sitting the woman up with her back against the wall. It appears she is trying to wake Brennia up to no avail as the sharp hissing voice calls out, "Bre? Brennia!? BRE," and then the entity realizes that she has one last option. The ink flows into the dying Brennia through her mouth, nose and ears… Suspense is killing the dream Brennia until the familiar teal hues blink open, heavy lidded and emotionless.

"See right there? I actually died and that ink entity turns out to be this bard woman's soul from my homeland, her name was Raven. She had deep green eyes," explains why her eyes are now a mixture of the two. The projection stays paused as Brennia continues to explain even though it sounds crazy, "her soul laid dormant in me for ages, but she became corrupted when my father tampered with the ink used in my tattoos." Turns out he wasn't really all that great a guy and wanted his Countess daughter to be an unstoppable force so their name will live on globally in glory. "For years before this memory, her and I were at odds because she would take control of my body for days on end or make distracting comments in my head during inappropriate times." She looks back and the memory rewinds to the moment the life left her eyes and Brennia appears to be genuinely reminiscing of this time. Of being dead? Couldn't be.

"I was only gone for a few months before her efforts allowed me to come back into consciousness. I've only said this to one other living person," her gaze finds his own once more as tears well up along the waterline of her lower eyelids and her voice becomes an emotional whisper, "but I miss being dead. I was at peace. I was with my brother and my mother even though I don't remember much about that time anymore… I ache to go back most days because my life has been complete shyte ever since," her deepest and darkest secret is now shared with this man who she is now stuck in this cage with, but something dark and wispy catches her eye. That darkness swirling beneath her is suddenly stirring with an ominous hunger and she looks back to Hawkeye with fear replacing the sadness in her eyes. After untangling herself from Hawkeye, she demands in all seriousness, "please. Promise me you will not follow me into the dark. Promi-" her plea is cut short as the darkness swirls around her ankle before quickly pulling her down into itself and then it dissipates, leaving the man all alone. The door to the cage creaks open.

Hawkeye does not immediately react to the kiss given to him by Bre… such a feeling is very foreign to the man… trapped inside his mind just like Bre stuck inside this cage… the perfect metaphor for both these unlikely budding friends. Still, the warmth from Brennia’s gesture does radiate throughout the elven man and brings him into a somber state of relaxation as he watches the woman share her own memory. Hawk takes a particular interest in Brennia’s figure and how much healthier she appears and notes how the Lycan intruder ravages the scenery in a brutal display of force. Something inside the elf doesn’t sit right as he watches the consequence: an apparent dead Brennia – something feels very familiar in this situation makes his blood boil.

“I will not fail again…” Hawkeye thinks to himself… “I will not let another person die under my watch… Mesdoram, we must stop and see reason –“ This thought is interrupted when the shadowy figure manifest from Brennia’s tattoos; he watches with great interest as the body begins resembling Brennia’s figure and listen intently with Bre’s explanation about her own death and understands that feel: having been a prisoner in his own body is a worse fate than death… though he wishes he could turn his life around a be reunited with Vexar and start anew, he would take the sweet comfortable of eternal slumber. Hearing Brennia’s troubling tale makes Hawkeye feel not so alone.

Suddenly, without a moment’s notice, Bre is panicking so fast that he truly doesn’t know how to react. “What is going on?! Is the dream end-“ With the struggling Bre disappearing into the dark void, Mesdoram begins awakening in the outside world…

Brennia's Luxurious Room at the Royal Palace

The avian wakes with a start and scream because it felt like she was still falling for a moment there! Then she nearly falls out of bed as she is scrambling over to her desk while parts of the dream are still fresh in her mind. She flips past notes on an 'archer' and begins a new page titled 'Sapphire' in an attempt to jot down some of the jumbled mess she can remember even though it is fading fast. Then she locks the journal away because she doesn't want anyone reading her secrets. The silly avian still doesn't realize that this wasn't just a being her mind made up.

Infirmary of the Vailkrin Blood Bowl

Mesdoram’s eyes open and begins peering around to his surroundings; he does not awaken in a confused daze; rather, the overwhelming pain of Khitt’s final blow comes back to his mind as a sudden surge of mild pain aches his entire boy. A healer whom had been working on him sparks up to the conscious drow. “Please be still Mesdoram; it has been 2 weeks since your battle with Khitt. We’ve managed to restore your skin to normal, but I’m afraid your pain medicine can only do so much – you’ll have to rest here. But take a look! You’re face has healed well from Khitt’s energy bombs.”

With that, the injured drow is shown a mirror and stares into his reflection – it certainly has seen better days… but there ‘he’ is again. His right eye flickers from silvery grey to a brilliant blue only for a moment, but long enough for Mesdoram to notice. “You stay in there… I will protect you my friend. Nariv will not kill us, I promise… and you sly dog got a kiss.” With this thought, both eyes turn sapphire blue for a full 2 seconds before returning to a neutral grey. “Sapphire… she called us Sapphire. Seems we may have a friend. Feels nice, huh?” During this whole time, the healer says in amazement. “How do you do that?! That is so cool.”

With a cruel scowl now directed at the healer, Mesdoram makes a very forceful command to the healer… one word in a very threatening way... “Whiskey.”