RP:In Your Dreams

Summary: Part 1 of 3 separate dreams had by both Brennia and Lhyrin. Bre's past with the Jar of Vakmatharas manifests within her dreams, and Lhyrin's connection to Vakmatharas guides them towards the jar.

Plane of Dreams

Brennia's stress coupled with her worry for Queen Reginae has made her soul feel quite thin lately. Her nightmares of chittering goblins and whip sounds have been replaced with actual dreams ever since the queen's alter ego, Nicolau, agreed to slumber next to her in order to keep the nightmares at bay. On the off chance she finds herself in a dream, she can only remember bits and parts of it the next morning, but she cannot shake the feeling of a familiar voice plaguing her or flickers of a rather toxic ex. After an exhausting day of being Reginae's new pet, journaling and practicing the pedal harp in her -prison- room, her eyes feel too heavy to fight the call of sleep any longer. After pulling her velvety robe tight to wrap around her slender body, she stumbles over to the large bed and slumps into it before her eyelids flutter closed to accept the nightmare or uncomfortable dream.

Brennia :: The avian opens her solid teal hues in a delirium as the world starts to materialize around her. She glances down to see she is dressed up as one of Reginae's pets again, a beautiful white gown with accents of gold that contrasts interestingly against her tattooed bronze skin and her hair is fashioned into silky black waves which are pinned to one side, cascading down one shoulder, but she is no longer in the palace being watched under strict guards… no… She is back at the bard's college? Yes, the familiar main hall comes into focus with the marbled architecture and the concert grand piano, but wasn't it destroyed when kahran took over Schezerade because? Because? Then she looks down to realize the Jar of Vakmatharas is back in her grasp! "Merde!" Panic is setting in and she sees that damn face with a stupid expression. Is he pleased? Is he concerned? It doesn't matter, she needs to get this thing away from her college and she definitely doesn't want to be anywhere near HIM. Heals click quickly across the floor until she reaches the large double door to fling it open and chancing a glance over her shoulder to be sure no one is following, she doesn't realize there is a drop! She is free falling, scrambling to try and find a grasp on the jar before it breaks open again, but no matter how fast those dark as night wings beat, there is no way to correct her course while falling. She lands awkwardly on one of those massive wings with a, "umph!" Then the jar lands gingerly on the other wing with a little bounce as if it just fell safely on a lush pillow or something. Her hair no longer looks so neat and her white dress is dirtied by the gnarled ground of… the twisted forest in Vailkrin? "Oh… no," her velvety alto timbre gaps out as she scrambles for the jar again in order to stand up, trying to figure out where to run.

Lhyrin :: Of late, Lhyrin had returned to Vhys for a time, as Cenril had become overwhelming and their bed at the Maharan mansion unwelcoming, as most beds were for the dark ranger. They didn’t even really -need- the sleep, really. Their vampirism only added them in their hunts, keeping them from tiring as a normal mortal would. But there was just something about those ancient woods on the outskirts of the region that forsaken elves had come to call home that always called to Lhyrin, despite the entire lack of a family and childhood that the elf had had. Now they were curled up in one of the larger trees of the forest, safe amongst the treetops, away from any of the other predators that might try to sneak up on them while they slumbered.

Lhyrin :: When the elf opened their eyes again, they were seemingly stuck right in the middle of the place they didn’t want to be: Port Rynvale. But, strangely enough, despite all the throngs of people that flocked to that city, here they were flocking to Lhyrin instead. They were just begging to be eaten! And so they feasted like a glutton amongst the townsfolk until something… something familiar, yet not, called to Lhyrin. They couldn’t even finish their current sacrifice to their dark lord Vakmatharas before they were getting yanked across the dream realm to somewhere new. Well, not entirely new. They knew the Dark Forest well, but it did not sate their love of the forest, as others did. But that didn’t matter now because something was calling to them, it had a pull that they’d never known before. They ran through the trees, grabbing their bow from their back and nocking an arrow as they went, only to finally come to a halt as Brennia scrambled to gather up the jar and stand again. “HALT,” came the monotone voice of the forsaken elf, as they let loose the arrow. It pierced the ground near Brennia’s feet, the force of it bringing up dirt, a silent threat to accompany the next arrow that Lhyrin was bringing out. “Who do you think you are, to think you are worthy of touching something of my dark lord’s?!” Lhyrin was not one for shouting, not one for making themselves known before they had at least pinned their victim to the ground in a variety of ways. Yet here they were, doing just that, the need for subtlety gone, with the need to preserve Vakmatharas’ property the highest of priorities.

Brennia can feel the hair stand up on the back of her neck when she hears the voice because it is not one she expects, even the feathers on her wings fluff out after flinching away from where the arrow landed. She nearly drops the jar, but saves the artifact before hugging it close to her chest while turning to face the stranger. Large solid teal eyes blink a few times as if to bring their face into focus and she wants to ask them, 'who are you? What are you doing here?' Nothing comes out. Lyhrin might notice the ink pattern covering the avian's bronze skin start to swirl and twist in on itself as the tattoo stays flat against her dewy skin. She wants to answer their question with, 'you don't understand. This thing is dangerous and I am going to destroy it,' but again… nothing comes out! Instead, lush lips shape into a devious smirk as she braves a step closer to the archer and then her sultry alto timbre explains, "I am Vakmatharas' mistress, is who I think I am." Ew! What?! Uhhh, No. Then, to her own horror, she opens the jar which causes all of these little shadowy particles to shoot from the opening before speeding off in all different directions.

Brennia :: There is also a hauntingly beautiful singing voice echoing within the jar and every fiber of her being does not want to do what she knows will happen next. She reaches a hand within the jar to pull free the larynx belonging to the bard sacrificed to make the jar and the muscle is still slick with blood as the dark liquid oozes between her slender fingers. The singing has grown louder now that the voice box is free from the jar, but it is cut short when Brennia's hand squeezes the larynx as hard as she can. Suddenly, she can now control her body with a sharp gasp as she drops both the jar which shatters and the bloody larynx also falls with a sickenly squelchy thud next to it. "Merde!" She curses again, tears welling up along the waterline of her eyelids while she falls to her knees in attempts to piece the artifact back together, asking in a harsh raspy whisper, "what have I done? What have I done? What have I done?"

Lhyrin went to loose another arrow but stopped short as the avian proclaimed to be Vakmatharas’ mistress herself. They watched as she seemed to struggle with speaking, the ink on her skin twisting and turning. The elf let out a ‘tch’, then went to fire yet another arrow until the winged woman dropped the vase and the larynx came squelching out. “What is wrong with you?! Why would you do this?!” The vampire growled and fixed the bow to their back, long strides bringing them to Brennia’s side quickly. “You’re an imposter. No better than that ‘king’ in Larket who swears he has love for my lord but can’t manage to offer up his sacrifices proudly for all in his kingdom to see.” As she messed with the jar pieces, Lhyrin carefully and without hesitation picked up the ever-singing vocal cords and eyed it carefully. “What connection do you have to this jar? Why do you even have it in the first place?” The blood called to the elf, their jagged features looking rather grim. “If you cannot repair that, then I must dispose of this.” And what’s the way they’d go about doing that? Well, they'd eat the larynx, of course.

Brennia doesn’t seem concerned with the stranger firing off arrows, or almost firing them off. Her blood coated fingers continue to try and pluck up the ceramic bits of the jar, but in her haste a piece gouges her palm and she flinches out of instinct even though it doesn’t hurt when her dark red blood starts to ooze out. “I-” her large teal gaze lifts to meet this stranger’s gaze as she takes in the angular features, both beautiful and handsome, but an enigma. Avian blood smells sweet and intoxicating, but furthermore… there is something different about her bloodline and it has a powerful sting to it as the unique smell permeates the air. “Uh, I think I am being punished. I was supposed to die, or something-” it all feels fuzzy when trying to remember because she could have swore she destroyed the damn jar once and for all. She watches as they pick up the larynx and no matter how much her instinct is telling her to look away from what is about to happen, she continues to watch them with curiosity. The familiar prickling feeling of being watched weighs on her senses again and she bends one of those large black wings out of the way to peer into the darkness of the trees, knowing he is there. “We’re not supposed to be here. We need to hide, archer,” a dire expression shifts the soft features of her face when she turns her attention back to them, if they have remained.

Lhyrin didn’t end up eating the larynx which was likely a good thing for Brennia. Instead, they shoved the thing into a thick leather pouch on their belt and turned their attention back to avian. She spoke of the fact that she thought she was supposed to have died, but eluded Vakmatharas’ bony grasp. That they’re not supposed to be there. Lhyrin just stared at her. It seemed to go on forever until their lips parted into a malicious, fanged grin and they laughed. The vampire laughed at her! The sound of it, within the dream realm, was almost distorted at times. Lhyrin’s real world malevolence started to manifest itself there in the Plane of Dreams, the forest itself seemed darker and denser, and that feeling Brennia had of being watched intensified, but it came from other sources than the one she initially perceived. “You fear the boogeyman and don’t even see the danger in front of you,” came their monotone voice after the laughter died down, though there was still a bit of cruel snickering in between their words now and then. “Oh my dear, if you’ve escaped my dark lord’s grasp, then I will freely assist you to be taken as you should have.” Only now that the jar had been broken and that “spell” that it had held on Lhyrin to bring them to Brennia had faded, did they finally look her over. A dark hunger picked at the vampire’s brain. The longing to devour her as she screamed for help was unbearable and the need to use her inky black feathers to fletch their arrows called to them.

Brennia just stares right back at Lhyrin for what feels like an eternity as the world twists around them, turning darker and wicked. No matter how much anxiety and fear is making her heart pound so quickly until it drowns out all sound in her ears, she cannot look away from the archer. Thankfully the malicious laughter is replacing the sound of her beating heart and no matter how much she wills her legs to stand up, run the other way, she stays next to the archer. Does she fear Vakmatharas? She knew nothing of gods before the jar and still doesn't. Maybe it is other people's belief in these gods that scares her. 'Boogeyman'... they mean her ex, but no - she doesn't fear him either and just wishes he would let go of this hold on her. Then they are calling her 'dear' and no matter how much she wants to correct their condescending tone, she is leaning towards them a little. "Darling archer," she starts while carefully raising her bloodied hand to their cheek to gently caress those angular features, her deep red blood a sharp contrast against their pale skin and the warm slickness of it might nearly feel like the real thing, "I would love nothing more." Why is she saying these things?! What is happening to her? Brennia shouldn't be entirely surprised because she -has- daydreamed of the tiny taste of the afterlife she got a little over four years ago now. Her free hand plants in the lush grass beneath them to grip the blades because it feels like they are spinning and she doesn't want to be flung from the archer, but she continues to lean in as if she can sense the vampire's hunger and is following the pull toward them like a magnet. Velvety lush lips are in course to capture Lhyrin's own, but she becomes a black mist right before they make contact as she is yanked from the plane of dreams.

Lhyrin’s grin faded and their entire body stiffened as Brennia’s demeanor shifted again, and brought herself closer to them. Stormy grey eyes stared at her unblinkingly as she touched their face, her warm hand against their cool skin. And there was that attempted kiss, to which Lhyrin only had time to let out a cat-like hiss before Brennia’s dissipating into that black mist and pulled from the dream realm. It was only moments later that Lhyrin woke up as well.

Brennia's Luxurious Room at the Alithrya Palace

Brennia wakes with a start, her heart pounding and she sits straight up to check her hand before looking around the room while holding her chest where her heart lies underneath as if that will slow it. Only flashes of the dream come back to her as her fingertips feel her lips because it felt real for a moment there. Once she calms down enough, she pushes some of her hair, slick with sweat, back away from her face before finding a blank journal. She titles the page, 'archer' before listing off the vague details of what she can remember. Then, she could have sworn she saw a shadow move and she chucks the journal at it!

The Ancient Forest in Vhys

Unlike Brennia, the elf did not awaken with a start. Nor did they write down anything having to do with their dream. For all they knew, the avian was just a strange fictive of the Plane of Dreams. They opened their eyes, the look on their face briefly pensive before they dismissed all of it, as they usually did (something they had had in their teaching to be a dark ranger, as a child). Their emotions did not matter. Their dreams meant even less, and merely served as a distraction from their killings and sacrifices to Vakmatharas himself. And as time passed throughout the day, the thought of it entirely would be gone, no parts of it remained, as dreams were often wont to do.