RP:Smells Like Childhood Trauma
Summary: Part 2 of 3 of Brennia and Lhyrin's dreams. A glimpse into Lhyrin's past helps to explain their current status as a murderer and eater of people.
Plane of Dreams
The next few sleeps for Lhyrin, as sporadic as they were for the vampire, were dreamless ones. This usually happened when the vampire had recently had a large hunt and the hunger that called to them, both the vampiric and one for humanoid flesh that had been instilled in them at such a young age, was sated and they were allowed to focus on other things. But, with the lack of hunting Valrae for King Macon and the boredom that had come for them again with their time on the mainland, it did little to soothe their mind and brought on thoughts of other things, things of the past. For once, a bed called to them, and they took refuge in Ryeanna’s abandoned chateau. They cared for the place occasionally as if it were their own, that sense of duty to their “mother figure”, the Lich Queen, bringing them to heel when they were like this. Eventually, they slept. This time they slept longer than the usual few hours, and tossed and turned in the bed of the guest house.
Within Lhyrin’s personal dream realm area, there were no screams. No killing. No sacrifices to the god of death. It was nothing but a forest, teeming with life and energy, similar to that of the Druid’s Tree in Kelay, complete with the fae that aided it. Just outside the boundaries of the woods was a massive meadow, full of glowing flowers of all colors, the scent of it all attracting bee and butterfly aplenty. Despite all of this, there was still darkness, but it allowed the light of the forest fae and the flowers to be seen in all its spectacular glory. And in the middle of it all was Lhyrin, laying on their back in the field, their hunter’s clothes gone, traded for an outfit of the colors of Vhys, the dark shades of red, purple, and blue incorporated in different ways. Their many piercings were still there and here, there even seemed to be tattoos amongst their body, one full arm sleeve dedicated to Vakmatharas, the other a blend of Delisha and Queen Ryeanna. They looked content, as they stared up at the moons, watching as the occasional firefly passed them, the stars twinkled endlessly, the constellations mirrored in their grey eyes. It was the one and only place where they were truly at peace, and it was sorely needed when their mind was a mess thanks to the hunger.
Brennia continues to have odd dreams during her slumber throughout the weeks and she continues to document whatever she can remember because Doctor Atwood could help her analyze them. Maybe her subconscious is trying to tell her something because she really doesn't think her dreams could be blending with someone elses for real! Her days are still filled with appealing Queen Reginae, attending lavish parties as the Queen's property and practicing the harp, but the dreams are her own and they have become a figurative escape. While sipping her warm camomile tea and taking in the comforting scent of lavender incense, she relaxes on the window seat to look up at the fake stars over the beautifully lush royal gardens.
The avian finds herself in the meadows in Xalious that lead to the ray of light which allows travelers into Schezerade. It is night as she meanders barefoot in her simple white nightgown made out of silk and her coily hair is left natural. She eventually lowers herself down to sit in the field among tulips before she lays back and tucks her wings underneath her. She knows nothing about the constellations or what they mean as she simply sees a plethora of random dots and as she is starting to wonder why some beings dwell on seeing these odd shapes where there is nothing, she is suddenly letting out a soft raspy giggle. It is as if she is suddenly conscious of a conversation while in the middle of it and she asks the person laying next to her, "really? They actually call it that?" Her head turns to find a stranger next to her, gazing up at the same sky. Somehow their meadows blended together and now they are stargazing together. If they turn to look at Bre, they will find the avian with a smile on her shapely lips that poke dimples in her cheeks and then a tattooed arm lifts to point up, "what about over there? Are there any constellations over there?" Brennia wants to wonder how they appeared out of nowhere, but this moment feels so serene and relaxing that she doesn't want to ruin it with logic.
Lhyrin was well within their own thoughts as Brennia laid down beside them and started talking. They jumped--quite a strange reaction for someone like themselves--and sat up, staring down at the winged creature with a mixed look of confusion and temporary fright. Brennia’s smile did little to ease them, but they eventually laid back down, dark brows furrowed, the forsaken elf still on edge. “The constellations are everywhere. Can you truly not see them?” A gaunt hand rose from the ground and gestured at the sky, those particular stars that made up the various constellations glowed more brightly, allowing them all to be better seen. Lhyrin sighed, stormy eyes settled on Vaalane for now. “Who are you anyway? What do you want? I told them I don’t need a chaperone. I’m fine on my own.” The elf let out a huff and crossed their arms across their chest.
Brennia's warm and friendly demeanor doesn't change as the archer seems off put by her sudden appearance. "Right," she actively listens as they explain. "I mean, I see the dots, but avians don't have time to study the skies when we are always found within them," and it is true. Avians do not care about the positions of the stars or what shapes people create out of the distant suns that are probably already burnt out… it just seems futile. Her race is also typically so arrogant, that they would rather worship themselves more than deities. The way she sees whatever the archer just did, the stars do become brighter, but there are faint smoke-like strands connecting the dots to create the image intended. Her soft raspy voice murmurs in awe, "oh wow." Her smile widens once more, but it is quickly wiped away when she notices the archer doesn't find their time together nearly as precious as she does. "Well, I'm-" her introduction is cut short when a fat drop of rain splatters in the middle of her forehead. The large back wings flinch and she looks back up just as calming rain pitter patters all around them, as well as drenching them. She simply closes her eyes and that soft raspy giggle shakes her slender shoulders as she simply enjoys the cool feel of the rain on her dark tattooed skin for a moment. "I don't need a chaperone either. They let me roam all over the city, but I can see the guards no matter how much they try to blend in with the city folk." With a sigh, she turns her head towards them, still smiling as her arm lays flat in the little space of lush grass between the two of them and her eyes open, "I don't want anything, archer." For some reason she says words that make no sense, but maybe they are not used to someone not needing anything from them. "Just be," hopefully her gaze catches their's.
Lhyrin’s face scrunched up the instant a raindrop hit. They watched as dark clouds overtook the stars and the rain drizzled down upon the two of them, both content to still lay in the grass, despite the rain. They had been listening to Brennia, of course, giving her a side-eyed glance every once in a while. Until she said ‘archer’. Raven-colored brows furrowed again and a deep frown marred their gaunt features. “‘Archer’? How did you…” How did she know? Was it obvious? Maybe she’d seen others dressed the way that Lhyrin was. “I don’t want to be an archer… I don’t want to become a dark ranger. Why can’t they just let me be? Why can’t they just leave me alone?” If Brennia remembered Lhyrin at all from the other dream, it was clear that they did not remember her. It seemed more like it was a memory replaying as a dream, though Brennia’s part in it was clearly not expected. They looked at her again, finally catching her stare. “I can’t ‘just be’ when they won’t let me.”
Brennia still doesn’t shift her disposition towards them, “you don’t? You’re quite good at it,” the bard compliments as it seems the dream part of her remembers them clearly, but it is much harder to piece together when she wakes. It is as if she is living a dual life these days, but which one would she prefer? “I hope they leave you alone,” whoever they are, “but what do -you- want to be if not this ‘dark ranger’?” Although it sounds pretty cool, in her opinion, but Bre has never been one to care if someone is good or evil because this life has no absolutes like that. “Who won’t leave you alone?” Her expression now changes to a more genuinely concerned one as their gazes meet. Gooseflesh raises along her skin as she can sense an intruder on the lovely dream and a sickened feeling opens up a pit in her stomach, but she doesn’t want to leave just yet. The hand that has been resting between them in the grass raises to rest against their crossed arms in an extension of kindness. She doesn’t dare turn her head the opposite way as her gaze takes in those angular features of this mysterious Archer because she knows she will find him spying on her dreams again. “What use is this life if you never take time to live a portion of it for yourself in any capacity?” Only she can hear a condescending dark chuckle coming from somewhere behind her which she is pretending not to hear.
“I don’t even know, to be honest,” Lhyrin said, side-eyeing her again. “I’ve never had time to think about it. But they just… they didn’t let me choose or even think of anything to choose.” They lifted a lithe hand, gesturing towards some place beyond the forest. “The nobles… and my parents. ‘The secondborn of every noble family is to go into service.’ is what they always tell me. Repeating it constantly as if I don’t have it running through my head every hour of the day and night.” It was then that Lhyrin jumped, screamed, and tried to scramble away. Not from Brennia however--from something else. That something else came in the shadowy forms of what seemed like more tall, lithe elves. The shadows grabbed at the elf, willfully ignorant to their screaming and crying. “No! I don’t want to go back! Not yet!” Lhyrin did their best to fight back, but it was for naught. One of the shadows promptly knocked them out with the hilt of a sword and continued dragging them back through the meadow, in the rain, to wherever they had come from. Lhyrin’s side of the dream faded, leaving Brennia alone, back in her half of it.
Brennia’s heart races in her chest as these shadowy beings grab at the archer and she’s trying to unlatch the grasping hands from them, “no! Leave the archer be!” The command is not even considered by the rough treatment on them and she reaches to desperately hold onto one of their hands, but they are dragged away so fast that she’s left alone in the rain as lightning strikes across the skies and thunder somewhat drowns out that awful chuckling from somewhere behind her.
The Guesthouse at Chateau Drakenheart
Lhyrin awoke with a scream. There was wetness on their pillow, from the tears that had fallen in their sleep. And there was blood on the bed, from fists clenched too tightly. They quickly wiped at their eyes and stared in the darkness at the wall across from their bed. It was likely this damned place that did it, they thought to themself. They wondered why they ever came back here and damned the house and all of Vhys straight to Perdere. And yet, they knew they would always return. To haunt it, since the Lich Queen could no longer. It was a comfort to them, and a plague. With a growl and a sigh, Lhyrin flopped back down beneath the covers that never warmed them. The dream was fading, taking that bubbled up memory with it, and soon it’d be gone entirely. But, just like the house, the thought of an ever-comforting smile and black feathers plagued the dark ranger and would until they too were forgotten.
Brennia's Luxurious Room at the Alithrya Palace
Brennia’s eyes slowly open and she isn’t in such a panic as last time, but she realizes that she has rolled over to her side and her arm is stretched out, gripping the lush comforter to her bed. At some point she made it from the window seat cushions to her bed. Bits of the dream rush back to her in jumbled thoughts and she slinks out of bed to find her dream journal to jot down bits she can remember no matter how much it doesn’t make sense. With a scowl, she adds one taly line to an alarming grouping under the title of how many times her ex has invaded her dreams. She considers this a big problem and starts to wonder if their old bond is still intact. This would explain so many things, but most of all why she constantly falls for unrealistic suitors, those who would have nothing to do with her or are constantly traveling. She makes a new list of every big or small relationship she has had since the bond and realizes the common theme that she has kept herself guarded from true love because this bond won’t let her, but she is left unsure of what to do about it.