RP:Nightmare On Bre Street

Summary: Part 3 of 3 of Brennia and Lhyrin's dreams. Brennia starts out with a garden variety nightmare, but it soon turns into something worse, and ends with Lhyrin's boredom cured and their resolve to hunt stronger than ever, with their mark now on Brennia.

Plane of Dreams

Brennia isn’t as enthusiastic about her dreams lately because for the past couple of weeks they have felt empty without the archer making any appearance, but if they have, would she really remember? Dreams are so fickle. On top of that, they always end the same, she forces herself to wake up every time she spots him lurking and there have even been a couple times he tries to approach, maybe to have a civilized conversation, but she won’t be sucked in again that way. The aides at the royal palace bring her the usual camomile tea with honey and after she finishes it, she relaxes on her bed while cuddling a pillow.

Her dream starts out in a familiar place, the classroom where she has conducted many lectures over the last six years and her warm smile is easy to find again even though the skies outside do not look like the familiar blue mixing with the metropolitan skyline of Schezerade. She also tries to ignore the shadowy corners at the top of the ascending rows of seats because that is where he likes to lurk. Back in the classroom again, it feels right and she’s back in her usual professor's attire, knee length black pencil skirt along with a silky white blouse tucked into the high waist band. Some of the many faces look familiar, but she continues on with the lecture, “… you have to consider the implications between the literal words of the song or sonnet and find a way to convey those hidden meanings…” she comes around in front of her desk to call on someone, but something isn’t right. Are they laughing at her? Why? Suddenly she feels cool air against too much of her skin and looks down… Oh, no! She’s in nothing but a tiny night time teddy which is white with gold accents. Some students are cracking jokes, but some gawk in horror as the welts from whips look fresh on her thighs, mixing with the tattoo pattern on her dark skin. Panic is evident in her eyes and she turns red in the face with embarrassment while her hands don’t know what she should try to cover first.

Lhyrin’s dream self was sat in the back of the classroom, but on their side of things, the room was much smaller--cramped really, nearly the size of a walk-in closet--and their headmistress kept pacing back and forth, waiting for Lhyrin to finish their science and arithmetic exam. Before they could even finish, the headmistress snatched the paper from beneath the dark ranger’s quill pen, and squinted at it with her beady black eyes over glasses that were far too small for her face and were only held up by her own pointed ears and a chain that latched from one side of the frame to the other. “Wrong. Weight, lift, thrust, and drag are the four principles of -normal- aerodynamics that archers need to know. I wanted the magical!” With a quick flick, a long switch made of willow was snapped at Lhyrin hands, leaving a painful mark. “Aeromancy can be used to control your arrow once it’s been loosed.” She hit them again, this time on their arm. “It can be combined with terramancy to create shockwaves to slow it down or stun.” Another hit, on the back. “Pyromancy to create thrust.” Again another hit. “Telepathy to steer it.” Another hit. “Chronomancy to slow down time before your prey can get away.” The headmistress continued lashing their back until the switch finally broke. “Pathetic. It’s a wonder you had any brain cells after your parents birthed your older brother. Clearly there was none to spare for you.” The forsaken elf took every ounce of abuse, both the physical and the mental, stifling their tears, biting their tongue to keep from crying out. And as they waited for more, nothing came. The forsaken elf opened their eyes, only to see their desk covered in blood. Their headmistress was on the ground next to them, her neck snapped and her throat tore open. And in a blink, they were beside her, peeling flesh from her neck and face with their teeth, the act harder without those fangs their waking self had, but still just as satisfying. They ate their fill, then scooped out her eyeballs with a ‘pop!’ and devoured those too, basking in the juices within.

It was then, while they were feasting, that laughter filled the air, and they looked up and around as they licked and sucked the blood off of their fingers. This was not their classroom, and though Lhyrin’s headmistress lay before them dead, Brennia’s class did not notice. The class only saw her and now Lhyrin did too. There was a look of vague recognition, but it was mixed with the ferality that came with that hunger they felt long before they ever became a vampire. They slowly stood, hanging on to a desk beside them, stormy eyes always on the avian. Blood-soaked boots lurched forward, sliding somewhat in the pool of blood that surrounded the elf. “Raven feathers… Ever-swirling tattoos…” The words came out in a hiss from between pale lips stained crimson. Their pace was slow, dazed but they continued towards Brennia nevertheless.

Brennia feels her heart slow as she spots the dark ranger standing to their feet and her wings shift in a peculiar way as she smiles which pokes dimples in her cheeks. "Archer," she softly greets and it is followed by a stunning silence when the room is emptied, leaving just the two of them and some desks. With a step and a hand of caution reaches out in concern of them slipping on something coating the floor, but why is she so concerned about a stranger? A stranger who is glaring hungrily at her no less! "Careful," she warns and finally looks down to what is causing the slipping to find blood. Oh, no. It must be the dark ranger's blood. With a glance over the hungry stranger's shoulder, she can spot them- a pair of icy eyes watching the events unfold and for some reason, she blames him for the state that this student is in. Matter-of-fact, those shadowy figures could have been conjured up by him to drag the dark ranger away from her back at the meadow! This irritates her more than anything and when they mention 'Raven', she blinks a couple times to come back from the distraction. "Come," the invitation is given as her arms outstretched along with her lustrous black as night wings which shimmer slightly in navy blue and forest green hues. "It is okay," her slightly raspy alto timbre is kind and warm once the bloodstained student gets close enough, she wraps her arms along with her wings around them in a caring embrace. "He can't hurt you anymore, Archer, I'm here now… You're safe," will be her famous last words apparently.

Lhyrin “allowed” Brennia to wrap them in an embrace while they processed what she said, but they soon shoved her away. “‘He’? HE?! THERE IS NO ‘HE’!!” The elf growled, staring at the ground with wild eyes, their stormy greys peeking out from behind their long black hair. It was then that the change started. Their hands and fingers elongated somewhat, ending in sharp pointy claws, while teeth fell from their mouth, immediately replaced by two rows of sharpened, serrated ones. They took on an even more emaciated look than forsaken elves normally had and held their head and shook it somewhat within their clawed appendages throughout the change, the whole thing clearly affecting their mind as well. “There is no he…” Their voice was distorted now, erratic. “There is only… ME.” For only a moment, their eyes could be seen as a solid black, contrasted only by the red, pulsating veins that ran along the edges, as they peeked through their hands again and then went for the kill with a massive swipe of one clawed hand.

Brennia has all but forgotten how her nightmare began as their closeness makes her feel at ease, but she cannot shake the feeling that this disheveled being just needs understanding and affection. Should she really be the one to offer that to them in her fragile state? This pull that calls to her and beckons even though they want nothing to do with her is more than enough to keep her ensnared. She stumbles back into her desk when they reject her embrace and without surprise, she looks up at them. Concern knits her brow together as they seemingly fall apart before her, but she doesn't cower away from them, "you're right, archer. There is no he," she attempts to calm them with agreement because that was far less awkward than explaining that her ex is hiding in the room, watching them. "Yes, just you and just me," she practically whispers as the sound carries in the acoustics of the lecture room. "You don't have to pretend for me, archer," the avian admits with an understanding and exhausted expression on her face because she is so very sick of pretending, so she knows the feeling. Then a clawed hand reaches out, striking her across the face and a crimson slit breaks open across the apple of her bronze cheek. The motion causes her head to whip one away as tears instantly swell along her waterline and then she slowly looks back to the stranger. A deep crimson ribbon of blood drizzles down and the intoxicating scent of royal avian blood permeates the dream air between them. "I am so sorry archer," she apologizes for no reason, "I wish for nothing, but to help you and make you realize you don't have to be alone." She doesn't realize the lack of pain from the strike in this dream because everything still feels so real.

Lhyrin’s face twitched a little as they stared at her, that look of murder still in their stormy grey eyes. There was silence for a time, as they just watched her, the face twitches worsening over time until finally they burst out into laughter. It started as snickering, shifted into chuckling, as if Lhyrin couldn’t believe what they were hearing, and then turned into full-on malice filled shrieks of absurd joy. Blood that was not their own and spittle flew from the elf’s mouth as they threw their head back and laughed at the avian, their entire demeanor wild and entirely unhinged. “You think you can help me?! There is nothing -to- help, woman! I ENJOY THIS. I ENJOY KILLING. I enjoy it so much I dream of it, even in my waking hours.” Long clawed fingers on both hands reached to snatch Brennia up at the throat and squeezed until there was no more life in her. “I am going to find you, bird, when we’re awake.” They knew, they knew now that this was a dream. How many times had they heard someone say before that they would try to help them? It sickened them to their very core. “I will pluck each and every feather while you still draw breath and use them to fletch my arrows. I will keep you alive while I feast on you. One limb at a time. I will rid you of your wings so you NEVER fly again.” The veiny look in their eyes spread to the rest of their body, pulsating and then splitting, spilling their own blood now, flaying their pallid skin. “You soul will be the only one I deny Vakmatharas because there will be nothing left of you when I’m finished!” Their distorted voice echoed through the room and the halls of Brennia’s school, layers upon layers upon layers of malice in each word. Each syllable shook the earth beneath them, cracked the walls and ceiling, sending pieces dropping from above. Behind them, towering over them both and everything was an image of Vakmatharas himself, speaking when Lhyrin did, the Death’s God’s most dedicated avatar. “YOU. WILL. SUFFER.” The school and their blended portion of the dream realm itself began to crack and splinter like glass, blood dripping from the fractures. The forsaken elf so wanted to kill her now that they had her, but the waking world called to them both. Completely incensed by this, Lhyrin was the first to go.

Brennia doesn’t even fight back as her hands rest around their wrists and her large sad teal hues lock on the archers. Still without being able to feel pain in the dream, there is an excited cool feeling swirling in her chest at the prospect of being able to be at rest once more. Would this time be permanent or would pesky Raven interfere again? “I already am,” she barely croaks out a whisper just before they are ripped back to reality.

Chateau Drakenheart’s Guesthouse

Back in the bedroom of the guesthouse, Lhyrin was whole again. The rage subsided as they stared at the ceiling, forcing themselves to fully remember the dream this time and what Brennia looked like. After a moment or two, their pale face cracked in half with a terrible grin and the same shrieking laughter that had filled Brennia’s nightmare. Quite suddenly, the boredom that had been plaguing the dark ranger disappeared and they were filled with a certain, sinister joy as they hopped out of bed and dressed themselves. -The hunt was on.-

Brennia's Luxurious Room at the Alithrya Palace

Brennia doesn’t startle awake this time and she is oddly calm, but then she feels her neck, expecting to feel an imprint of hands even though there is nothing. She rolls over to pick up her fountain pen and journal. After finding a loss of words to add in archer’s pages, she closes the book and slinks back under the covers unless the Queen herself beckons for her, little can get her out of bed or room for two full weeks.