RP:Think of Me, Think of Me Fondly
Setting: After an abrupt end to an otherwise pleasant dream, a fully recovered Mesdoram all but sells the last bit of his humanity to enter another dreamlike trance. Knowing the price of this re-entry will be costly, the drow brushes the negative repercussions aside and forces Nariv to send him back into a deep REM sleep… to seek answers before his and Hawkeye’s likely demise.
OOC: Brennia's song reference here.
The Underdark behind the Trist’oth Tavern: inside Mesdoram’s makeshift dwelling
Mesdoram’s house… a blue tarp pinned to the outer wall of the Trist’oth Tavern draped over two trash cans that anchor the fabric to the ground; not the preferred ten foot ceiling of the aristocrats, but the drow makes due with what he has been able to collect: a tattered towel and bag full of garbage he uses as a bed, an old milk bucket that when turned upside down makes for a luxurious lounge chair, and utilizing the building’s wall as a post-it board filled with his to-do lists that ranges from ‘stabbings’ to ‘play preparation.’ But today’s story is not about Mesdoram’s life of lavish spending. We pick up on Nariv taunting her ‘master’ as her and Mesdoram negotiate violently with one another. The two have been going at it for hours until finally, Nariv and Mesdoram reach agreeable terms. Nariv extends her hand to seal the deal.
“Agreed – I will send you two back into your dreamland state. In return, I get to decide how our next play ends… do we have an accord, Mes?” Nariv speaks so boldly to Mesdoram; though, in retrospect, someone knowing the truth behind this relationship understands Mesdoram is the true victim here… but how much sympathy would there realistically be for the man? Maybe Hawk has something up his sleeve brewing in their shared mind… is that why Nariv hasn’t been more suspicious? Regardless, Mesdoram shakes Nariv’s stupid hand. “Yes, now send me ba-“
Without uttering another syllable, the skin-on-skin contact sends a shock through the drow’s tiny body – like one of those joy buzzer toys. The drow drops and collapses completely on his backside, and Nariv drags his body onto his ‘trash bed’ pillow to rest. Placing a goodnight kiss on his forward, the vindictive elven woman whispers sweetly into his ear…
“Don’t get too attached to this Bre, Mes. She has left you once… do you really want another Atropos in your life? Think about it… sweet dreams love.”
Mesdoram’s Dream: Inside a Tavern near Frostmaw
Mesdoram is transported to a worn-down bar in the winter wonderland of Frostmaw – thirty years in the past. The drow himself gets up on the second floor of this open-concept room leaning on the guardrail the oversees the lower floor festivities; however, on this particular night, the normally overcrowded barroom is occupied by three men: the bartender providing drinks his only two customers, a human man on about his second beer, and a down on his luck elven man with long blonde hair… and on his 8th glass of whiskey. As the drow gets accustomed to this new dream-like scenario, he looks very confused as he doesn’t recognize anything thus far. “Where have you sent me, Nariv… what monkey’s paw have you inflicted into my dream?”
Suddenly, the elven man is heard speaking a very muffled tone as he beings conversing with the human man; Mesdoram’s only ear perks towards the direction of the sound, trying to decipher any of the words being spoken from afar. Alas, from 40 feet away, the drow cannot make out the nature of the conversation, though he is not exactly eager to eavesdrop at the moment. “Well, I guess I wait now.” Mesdoram says as he shrugs, pulls out his favorite whiskey, and begins slowly enjoying his preferred beverage of choice. He does pick up on one subtle detail about the elven man though… they are drinking the same brand of whiskey. Before placing his glass down on the well-crafted wooden guard rail’s surface, Mes raises his glass towards the elf in respect. “I must say… damn good taste, my good sir.”
Brennia had been documenting her lonely dreams and searching every corner of them for Sapphire or Hawkeye with to no avail. She regrets not trying to fall asleep faster the last time because she thinks the chaotic man finally calmed down and actually started to return the affection offered. If he is a figment of her imagination, why can't she just create him out of thin air when she realizes she had been dreaming. Brennia even broke down and asked the advice of her friend in the palace who is the royal healer, Nadia, on lucid dreaming. Is it possible to remain conscious and control her dreams? She has spent the last couple weeks trying to harness this unusual and useless skill because if her only escape from Alithrya is going to be through her dreams, then she wants to do whatever she wants whenever she wants. So, after a hot cup of chamomile tea with honey and the fake rain pounds on her faux sky window, Brennia happily slips into slumber.
This dream starts out as most, the palace staff slithering around her, adoring her in jewelry and dressing her up in a flattering white dress. It is a wonderful silk number that accentuates her narrow waist while looking striking against her bronze tattooed skin. Her hair is left natural in loose fluffy curls that flow past her bony shoulders. Even though she would rather not have her scarred thighs showing, she is slowly becoming more accepting of it… she is a survivor and it maybe shows more strength if they are visible. Now to test if this is a dream, she looks down at her hand to see a certain ring and knows it is her totem in this dream realm. When the nagas escort her out of her room, one holds the door open for her and she realizes the hall is in fact a tavern. When the door closes behind her, it seems none of the naga followed and she is in this rather empty cold tavern. Her wings fold closer to her slender body as she tries to find some warmth within.
Solid teal hues focus on a rather empty spot on the space as if something is supposed to belong here. With a deep breath, she tests her theory and continues to focus on this one spot until a black piano finally materializes as if it was always there. Surprise is evident in her expression and she smiles genuinely, still not noticing the drow overlooking the tavern from the mezzanine. Naturally, she settles down on the pianist's bench and it is as if she belongs completely as her fingertips caress the ivory keys adoringly while playing out a serene tune. Lyrics follow with the start of, "late at night when all the world is sleeping, I stay up and think of you…" If she could really dream of anything, she would dream of her bard magic back and the few people within would be swooning by now, adorning only Brennia with all of their attention.
Brennia's soulful raspy timbre continues on in the song without a care in the world, but no matter how hard she tries - she doesn't seem to be able to conjure up any of her dream friends anymore. How bizarre. When the song concludes, there is some applause from the bartender and Brennia simply continues to sit at the piano, admiring the instrument - her true love.
Mesdoram’s attention had been so fixated on the two male patrons occupying the bar that he does not need see Brennia enter the tavern; nor does he hear the creaking of the door, nor the temperature drop as more cold seeped in. It is not until the piano begins to materialize seemingly out of nowhere does the drow move his gaze; blinking a couple times, Mesdoram scans the room for anymore trickery and the possible origins… and who maybe tampering with his dream. “Nariv, I swear to the Dark Planes that I will kill you where –“ Before Mesdoram finishes his internal monologue, his heart skips a few beats as his eyes land on Brennia approaching the musical instrument.
Performing a couple quirky double takes (from Brennia to the piano and back), Mesdoram is not immediately awestruck with the woman’s inherit beauty and presentation; Brennia is doing that silky white dress justice and peaks the drow’s interest. But given how jaded Mesdoram stills feels by their abrupt ending, he isn’t willing to drop his guard again… yet. But something does break his steely façade of contempt: the heavy scars on her legs in an otherwise perfect being – the long strides to the piano and the outward indifference projected by Bre speaks volume to Mesdoram. Rubbing his chest for a moment and feeling the ‘Karasu’ tattoo carved into his body, the drow has two thoughts running simultaneously in his mind: “She wears her battle scars proudly” and “Who has the gaul to damage perfection?”
The flood of multiple emotions (anger, admiration, weary, guarded) are now hidden behind his signature scowl; taking a large sip to complete his whiskey, Mesdoram tosses his glass carelessly behind him and starts towards the stairs to have crossed words with Brennia… but then the music starts… followed by a voice that can only be described as ‘angelic.’ The unscheduled concert baffles the drow and stops him at the top of the stairs… as he hears her voice fill the tavern, Mesdoram listens intently to the lyrics, wondering whom this mystery person is that fills her dreams. As she concludes and the bartender gives her a standing ovation, Mesdoram starts his careful and calculating response.
First, testing who really is control of this dream, Mes waves his hand to the wall behind Bre – conjuring a fire place with a flame roaring to provide the music lady’s backside. Successfully asserting his control in his dream again, Mesdoram’s acapella singing responds in kind to the pianist warming up to the fire; sounding bitter at first, his voice projects the myriad of emotions he feels: abandonment, resentment, excitement, and uncertainty.
“You are a fool if you think of me so naïve and safe.
I am neither one to cross nor play with, my sweet angel.
However enchanting our meetings, our recent entanglement
was both hauntingly beautiful and yet so painful.”
Descending to the 4th to bottom step as he sings in a heart filled voice, he locks eyes with Bre with a smoldering intensity, attempting to pierce into her very soul with this stare; Mesdoram defiantly stands guarded on that step, not willing to go further until he can assess Brennia’s agenda properly. Feeling safe, Mesdoram ditches his singing voice and asks Bre in his normal voice.
“So my angel… is it I that haunts you? Or are you that haunts me?”
Brennia is surprised by the sudden voice and she instantly stops playing while her wing curves out of her way when she looks over her shoulder to see… Sapphire! After she turns on the pianist's bench and stands while a pleased smile spreads across her lips, the avian makes her way towards him - even joining him on the stairs. She stops a step or two short from him so he’s still slightly taller and her smile widens which pokes dimples in her cheeks, “Sapphire, there you are.” It is evident she has missed his intrusion on her dreams even though she is certain this is just something conjured up in her subconscious. Her arms slip around him, resting on the top of his shoulders while pulling their bodies together in an embrace as if it's been years since they’ve seen each other. Of course her velvety feathered wings follow suit out of habit. If he accepts the hug, she nestles into him and lets it linger for a moment before finally untangling from him.
Her hands rest on his shoulders as she says with all sincerity, "I've been trying to find you. I had fought so hard to attempt a return during our last encounter, but sleep would not take me," but then confusion knits her brow together at his question. "I am not sure who haunts who," she decides to refrain from saying more because this is a figment of her imagination and she is afraid if she said it outloud, he might disappear. Plus, she can imagine how upsetting it might be if someone ever told her 'you're not really real and not really here.' Her gaze slips down to his lips as she cups his cheek once more, the warmth of her silky touch a small imprint on his cheek, "you have such a lovely singing voice, Sapphire."
Mesdoram stands stoic and indifferent at first to Brennia’s initial show of affection – even staring harshly as she approaches him up the stairs. He doesn’t quite reciprocate the hug but allows her to linger and embrace him fully with his arms to his side… but then… his hands do return the favor and takes hold of the woman in a loving hug… having also missed Bre very much. The tough guy act fails almost instantly – Mesdoram doesn’t want to fight Brennia at all and wishes very much to stay with her forever, however futile the fleeting thought.
As she releases him and compliments his voice, he places both of his hands on her shoulders looking softer than before. “Why thank you, my angel…” His fingers slide down her arms, feeling the chill from the outside; rubbing up and down her arms while staring into her eyes, Mesdoram continues warming up Brennia’s body. “… it is something Hawkeye and our brother taught me… we are an artsy bunch, really. With the three of us and your piano skills, we could make an excellent team.” The more Mesdoram is close to Brennia, the more at ease the erratic drow seems to be becoming. Without hesitation, Mesdoram finally does return a hug by pulling Brennia back in to his chest: his right hand gently runs his fingers through her long hair while his left hand holds her body in a tender embrace, he tucks his head in towards the woman and gently rocks the two of them back and forth on the stairs.
“Don’t leave this time…” Mesdoram speaks quietly as he tries to prolong this dream as much as possible. “I don’t know how much time I have left…” The drow closes his eyes as years of pain and regret drip from his eyes with some tears falling upon Brennia’s upper back. “I… I am very real, Brennia. Even if I don’t seem like it…” Opening his eyes and releasing his hold of Brennia, he places a gentle kiss upon her forehead before completely letting go of Bre. But before another word can be spoken, a slow clap can be heard from the bar area… six claps to be precise to Mesdoram’s horror.
Sitting now with the oblivious bartender and two other patrons sits an elven woman dressed in a proper green dress that compliments her pale white skin and long blonde hair with her trademark ‘SIN’ tattoo crudely carved on her forehead. This woman is Nariv… the woman Mesdoram has mentioned several times to Bre and perhaps has even seen Mesdoram in real life. Nariv’s body language could not be more relaxed as she sips on her beer very casually, mockingly staring at the two possible love birds. “My… what a lovely image this is Mesdoram.” Nariv throws her first taunt directed at Mesdoram. Standing up with the beer left at the table, Nariv tediously walks towards the bottom of the stairwell; fake wiping away tears from her eyes, she continues her verbal assault. “Awww, and tears for this woman? Does she know what is to become of you? What evil deeds you commit on a daily basis? Do you think she can fathom the bodies you have compiled over the years?”
Mesdoram instinctively moves in between Nariv and Brennia; gently guiding Brennia to one side of the stairwell, the drow now stares daggers into Nariv. The elven woman gleefully laughs at the drow’s pathetic attempt to protect Brennia knowing full well she could end him without a second thought. “Well, at least let’s let your love ask and inquire about you. Well Bre? What exactly do you know of your ‘Sapphire’?’” There is a heavy sneer as she pronounces ‘Sapphire.’ “Go ahead, Mesdoram’s angel. Why don’t you ask him? Now’s your chance.” With his back still to Brennia, Mesdoram scowls harshly at Nariv just daring her to cross him again.
Brennia doesn't think she will ever get used to the sound of 'angel' coming from a drows lips let alone with the 'my' in front of it. Is she blushing in her own dream!? Whatever, it is flattering as perdere. Plus this is her dream, so she can create whatever she wants and her gaze is stolen only for a moment by the appearance of a door on the second floor of the tavern or inn. "We could take the show on the road and get one of those fancy carriages that have sleeping areas," she smiles brightly again and a soft raspy giggle follows because the notion makes her feel giddy inside. Without hesitation, she melts back into the drow - afraid to even move from their spot in case she gets pulled back out of her dream again.
"I don't wish to," she whispers back in hopes he knows that whenever she disappears - she cannot help it. "Me either," the avian admits because her own health is precarious. When she considers her future- there is only a vast darkness because of the weight of her death left on her soul. Both of her arms are wrapped around his middle in order to keep him as close as possible. Her wings flutter ever so softly when he kisses her forehead and the warmth of it resonates with her and how real it -does- feel! The clapping is met with a loft of her brow and an expressionless facade aimed at the elven woman. The name sounds muffled to Brennia and a flash of the name on some sort of advert is recalled in her mind, but this stranger is now approaching the pair.
This woman is seriously harshing her mellow even though she cannot help the little grin on her lips when Sapphire moves to protect her. She can tell he is fierce and mighty even though he is shorter than her, he definitely would be a better fighter. What this elven woman doesn't know is that Brennia doesn't care about any of that just because she couldn't bring herself to perform such 'evil deeds' or murder anyone doesn't make her some hero. The worst is what this stranger is doing now, going around and throwing someone's past in their face at every turn. The avian's expression sours and there is a slightly disgusted scowl on her lips, but is it because of Sapphire or the elven bitch.
She places a hand on Sapphire's shoulder while slipping around him to lower the couple of stairs, still towering the elven woman and it is unsure if she will be asking any questions or joining up with the stranger. "Ugh, you're not allowed to call him Sapphire," she states with obvious disgust in her tone and then the palm of her hand stamps firmly on the woman's forehead while she elates, "WHACK!" Brennia feels a sense of satisfaction at the surprise turned to anger on the woman's face, but that doesn't seem to be deterring the stranger to leave them alone- so she does it again! "WHACK!" Along with a satisfying smack sound on her forehead this time. Brennia doesn't give the woman a chance at rebuttal as she takes Sapphire by the hand and storms all the way up the stairs to escape into that room.
Pulling Sapphire within and slamming the door shut, she smiles over to him, "I think we will be safe in here… What a bitch."
Mesdoram appears to grin ear to ear with Brennia’s unique assault to Nariv’s inquiries – even in dream form, the sight of Nariv’s ‘how dare you’ face brings the drow a very satisfying sense of glee and admiration for Bre. As his woman brings him up the stairs with great force, Mes cannot help himself and shows the disapproving Nariv the signature middle finger. The last image of Nariv the two sees is a disappointed elven woman nodding in discontent before Bre’s slams the door behind Mes’ back – even though this wooden barrier only offers a temporary buffer for the dream couple, Mesdoram will appreciate any alone time he can with Brennia.
“You are quite bold, Brennia. And you have a lot of fight in you… I saw that the moment you walked into the tavern.” Before surveying which room they were in, Mesdoram takes an empty hand and gently places it on the woman’s thigh where most of her scars are. The drow takes mental snapshots of the grooves and markings as he tries to recreate the scenarios which inflicted Brennia pain… but careful not to cause any further anguish to his sweet, he removes his hand while staring up at her teal eyes. “I wouldn’t want to see the other guy; if they are still breathing, they have an upcoming appointment with my dirks.”
Seeing the coast is clear for the time being, Mesdoram strides a few steps forward to observe the room: it appears that this room adjacent to the mezzanine loft is an upscale double suite fully equipped with a set of twin beds, a love seat facing an already lit fireplace, closet spaces and dresser drawers with a nightstand next to each bed, and a door that should lead to the balcony of this inn. “We should be safe for now, but stay alert… I do not know how long I can manage to hold power over that wench… but enough about her.” Wanting to get comfortable (but also prepared if they were to be interrupted again), Mesdoram unsheathes his preferred earthly brand, turns back to the door, and braces the glowing green blade in a 45 degree angle. Whispering a simple spell, the words produce gnarled twisted tree roots to sprout from the sword and secures the door with a combination of braces and anchors which cover the entire wall. As the security spell concludes, the drow offers a playful wink to the woman. “Worst case scenario, my charm will swallow up the fool foolish enough to interrupt us again tonight.”
Mesdoram kindly takes Bre’s left hand to guide the two of them to the roaring fire where the love seat is. Before inviting her to sit down with him, Mesdoram pulls the end table inward and equips the tabletop with glasses, whiskey bottle, vodka, wine, water, and tea from his dream backpack from his twin bed. With one final gesture, Mesdoram produces his left icy element dirk from his waistband and taps all the glassware; one by one, the glass becomes perma-chilled and remains cold despite being exposed to the flames. Pouring into his glass his preferred whiskey, Mesdoram takes his drink, sits down, and says, “Please make yourself comfortable and pour you whatever your preferred drink is. Let us soak in this night as much as we can.” Casually taking a sip, Mesdoram playfully winks again as he is relaxed and enjoys his dream evening with Brennia again; feeling safe again, Mes drops his weapon which embeds itself in the floorboard: easy to access if need be. Equipped with Brennia's favorite blue robe, the drow still has the other elemental dirk in his waist side - not yet ready to become an easy target for another Nariv intrusion.
"Where have you been all my life, my angel? Where have they been keeping you? I..." Mesdoram plays coy, but he fully remembers. "... I remember you from one of my tournament duels very recently. You were surrounded by armed guards, and I may have pestered one of your naga entourage. Do you always travel so heavy?" With another sip, Mesdoram realizes this may be too soon even for a dream. "Apologies, but you have captivated my interest and wanted to know more about you. Please. Start where you are most comfortable." With that said, Mesdoram pulls back his alabaster hair away from his only ear to signify he is ready to listen.
Brennia is merely happy the frigid blonde elf didn't follow them too closely and hopefully she can control the dream enough to make Nariv vanish all together. His compliments earn a shy smile, but her heart thunders in her chest when his hand finds her outer thigh and she looks down to make sure that she isn't imagining it. Well, more than the entire dream is imagining things! Her cheeks are on fire and a tinge rosy as she looks down into his eyes, "uh…" Her heart grips in fear that if she speaks of how she got these scars that her dream will dissolve into those night terrors she has dealt with over the last three years. "L-l-luckily they are not," she doesn't really know - that whole time on a goblin thrall farm is such a distant memory thanks to the potions they kept their workers under.
She meanders behind him as she also takes in the view of the unexpectedly nice room. The avian watches with admiration when the drow's craft spans across the locked door and she is further impressed with how this dream is taking shape- even on its own! When the drow winks to her, she cannot help it as the pinkish hue flushes across her cheeks and along the tips of her long tapered ears. "Clever," she compliments him and allows him to whisk her away over to the loveseat before the crackling fire. It is quite romantic which surprises the avian because she didn't realize her subconscious is missing such an aspect in her life in the mortal plane. She decides to just go with it. "Hm," she observes her choices with a grin and it has been far too long since she has enjoyed a good wine.
"Why not," she muses while pouring herself some wine and is thankful it is a rose - which is better chilled. She grins at him all comfortable on the love seat before she takes it upon herself to do the same, draping her long bronze and tattoo covered legs across his lap. While taking a generous couple of sips, she listens to all of his questions and an apology. "No apologies necessary. I sense you're a man that knows what he wants, yeah?" Her wings relax as one drapes over the back of their loveseat and the other drapes along the floor. "Where have I been all your life?" She thinks about the question, "well… I grew up as a countess on Island Vere, a mysterious island only reachable by avians. I didn't want to rule, so I ran away. During my time on Lithrydel I have been a slave, a vagabond, a Dean of the DeVere College of Bardic Arts in Schezerade and a senator in running for Schezerade, but I failed."
"I am a horribly flawed creature and even though I adore you calling me 'angel' I fear I am far from. After my loss, I ran from a secret organization that calls themselves the Flewminati and wound up trapped on a goblin thrall farm," she takes a deep breath and focuses on Sapphire's face to make sure she holds onto this dream for fear of being pulled back to that damn farm. "That's where the whip marks come from, they kept their workers operating like mindless zombies." Then she grins at his second question, "no one is keeping me. I am where someone needs me," but then his recollection cuts her reply short. "You…" she mumbles out before sipping on her wine some more. It is so odd, why would she conjure up some guy she didn't even get a chance to meet in her dreams?
"No, but when you are considered precious cargo to a Queen, you tend to get that sort of security to ensure your safety," she divulges probably a little too much, but it's fine because this is just a dream and a dreamy man she has created - not a real person. So… yeah, all is well! When he tucks his hair, she grins, enjoying the slightly goofy side to Sapphire, "is it okay I keep calling you Sapphire? And what about you, give me a little summary of my golden cage buddy." The bard takes a moment to observe how the light from the fire flickers along his angular features and her free hand lays palm side up along her lap in offering for him to hold hands. This moment could be robbed from them at any second and she makes sure to imprint this in her memory.
Mesdoram listens very closely and alternates between attentive nods and simple sips of his chilled whiskey; he accepts her stretched out legs with no resistance and comfortably places his free hand softly on her left leg, occasionally stroking up and down tenderly. A tender chord is struck as Brennia recollects her slave life and the sounds of the whip crack against her flesh reverberates in his mind – Mes knows a thing or two about being a slave. Finding himself drawing the outlines of her tattoos with his fingers, Mesdoram feels Bre’s hand nudge against his own; offering no resistance, the drow accepts Bre’s hand into his own and thinks carefully about how to answer her question.
“I do like that ring of Sapphire… you may continue to call me that. It is very endearing.” A sly smirk collects on his face as he reminiscences about their first encounter in that golden cage… what a strange turn of events and circumstances to bring this unlikely pairing together: To Bre’s imprisonment to Mesdoram getting terribly mangled by Khitt, to magical forces unknown to at least Mes on how this dream plane works… is this Nariv’s cruel ploy to drive Mesdoram mad again, or is there something more sinister a foot unknown to the drow... would... would Nariv really be this heartless to conjure up a woman for Mesdoram to love only to literally crush the last bits of his humanities? These thoughts will plague his mind all the way up to his play… but give way to answer Brennia.
“I… do not know if I am supposed to exist… I was not brought into this world by conventional means…” Mesdoram takes a nervous sip despite appearing emotionless; this is a story only three people know of, and which has caused so much carnage in his wake – he is also fearful that if he reveals too much, Nariv will shut this dream off and separate him from Brennia forever… still, he feels comfortable enough to tell some of the story. “I became… sentient and aware… I am my other’s curse. A vicious and merciless byproduct of an evil bitch’s revenge scheme. Still… without her stupid plot to punish Hawkeye…” Pausing for a bit, his hold of Bre’s hand adjusts and squeezes her hand lovingly to further prove he is real. “… without that, I may not be here with you or the other times… good or bad.”
“My life… until meeting you… has been nothing but war, battle, blood, death, and loneliness… my clansmen have since passed, ‘our’ brother wants nothing to do with us, and everything above the surface has taken some… many deserving… stabs and arrows at me… not knowing the truth…” Mes, feeling rather comfortable now, places his drink down on the table (while barely moving Brennia’s legs), and starts to undo the rope tying his robe and removes his sapphire garments down to his waist… revealing the scars he bears as well.
Along with the myriad of cuts and nicks which have healed into scar tissues are a multitude of names… crudely edged into his ebony flesh. These names glow a dim bluish hue which periodically brighten up and at random: names of Atropos, Demi, Movdon, Quintessa, Leralynn, Khitti, Khitt, Magik, Meri, Karasu, Leoxander, Vexar… along with some 30 other names which spread and light up his torso, chest, and arms. “I am not the monster the surface world thinks of me… I am just a tainted creature searching for belonging. Kelay and the lot would gladly take my life for the thrill… but I cannot let them until they understand…” Looking sincerely into Brennia's eyes, Mesdoram smiles sweetly at the beautiful woman of his dreams. "You may not feel like an angel, but you have certainly become mine."
Looking around a bit, Mesdoram breathes a heavy sigh and recollects his drinking glass and freshens his and Brennia’s glass respectively. Taking a rather large swig of his preferred drink, Mesdoram offers Brennia an invitation. “…Do... do you like plays? I am performing one real soon in Cenril... I would really like you to come if you are not busy." A smile does sneak onto his face thinking about Brennia attending his play. "I promise you, it is much happier than my boring origins. Your voice would be perfect for my next play. If nothing else, I will need some kickass piano riffs." Unbeknownst to Bre, Mesdoram is simply listing things he wishes could be... knowing that he will likely be killed at his play. However grim the thought of his possible death is, it truly brings a happy feeling throughout his scarred body... and his breaking heart. "You and I would be the talk of the surface world! What do you say?"
Brennia only glances at the hand trailing over her ugly scars again as she feels goose-flesh raise on her silky skin. She swears this feels so real if she didn't already know this is a dream and nothing more. It is sad, but she doesn't wish to wake up. "I mean it to be endearing," she grins coyly and it pokes those adorable dimples in her cheeks. Her solid teal hues rest on his face as she actively listens and her wing even shifts at pivotal points of his story. Some this isn't an entire shock because it fits what Hawkeye and her discussed in their first dream. The avian typically doesn't move this fast in the mortal plane anymore because she has been burned too many times by quick flames that disappear in the night, but for this dream she can allow herself to indulge as the handsome drow gives her hand a squeeze- begging her to believe he is real.
Her brow knits together in his harrowing tale and she gives his hand a squeeze back, wishing for him to be real, but if he were - where would he be. She ponders if this man is real, would he still be as she dreamt? Or would he let her down? His last words earn a flattered smile, "if only it were not so difficult to reach each other." His loneliness grips her heart and she sets her glass down on the floor temporarily to sandwich his hand in both her own, "oh, Sapphire." Then he is slipping free of her hands and starting to disrobe, but she doesn't dare look away - this dream just went from good to great! If this were the mortal plane, she might avert her gaze. Then she takes in the sight of the plethora of scars, but there is no pity or sadness in her eyes - only understanding.
Then both of her fingertips raised to gently glide over the names etched into his dark skin, "you're no monster, Sapphire. At least I do not think so," she rests her hands on his chest before swallowing hard as she has to peel her gaze away from how his abdomen muscles cut hills and valleys into his torso until she is looking into his silvery eyes once more. "Then seek refuge in Schezerade or Alithrya-" her suggestion is cut short as she asks in nearly a whisper, "until they understand what?" She doesn't realize that she'd been leaning closer and closer to him as they continue to talk and he is sitting there pretty much shirtless. Tears threaten the waterline of her eyelids and she is blushing again at his compliment. She closes the distance between their lips to lay a supple and sweet kiss on his lips as a thank you for such kind words.
Then she untangles herself from him as the room feels ten degrees hotter all of the sudden and thankfully he refills their chilled glasses. "Thank you," she murmurs before taking a long sip of wine. A large smile brightens her entire face and twinkles in her large eyes, "I -love- plays, Sapphire! The college I teach at puts on a big one every year at the end of their spring courses." Realizations click into her mind, "in Cenril?" So what if she has romantic dreams about the guy who handed a naga guard the flier for his play. Mesoram is the name on the parchment the avian realizes because she has looked at it often as it is hanging up in her room at the royal palace, "I have asked the Queen to attend that with me, of course I will be there!"
Then he is offering to write a play with her in it! "Me? I-... well, I would be honored, Sapphire," the ear to ear smile says it all even if she tries to hide it behind sipping her wine goblet. Her free hand gently cups his cheek as her thumb caresses the angular path of his cheekbone, "I say cheers to us," she holds up her glass for a clank of their drinks.
Mesdoram offers no resistance to Bre’s kiss and returns the gesture very willingly the favor back; guiding his hand across the woman’s cheek and blades his fingers to fully embrace every inch of her soft skin. As she pulls her lips away from him, he allows his finger tips to linger longer so that he can savor every millisecond of warmth Brennia she has brought Mesdoram. Mirroring the same satisfied smile that adorns his angel’s face; he meets her glass of wine with his own drink and happily clinks both of their glassware – the easy but blunt collision reverberates throughout their cozy love suite adding to the amorous ambiance.
“Seeing you again is by far my favorite experience in my life.” As she sweetly rubs his cheek, he cannot help but sweetly place a few small kisses in the cup of her hand as she plays with his jawline and hair. “You asked me ‘what I want them to understand…” Mesdoram motions to the names edged into all over his body and specifically points to three names: Vexar, Atropos, and Magik. “I want them to know Hawkeye is the real prisoner of the three of us… that he and I are not the evil bunch we have made ourselves to be. Hawk deeply misses Atropos, and he only longs for his brother’s affection and forgiveness… and Magik he wants to be friends with again – Magik is the only person alive in this realm he still recognizes… everyone else in his life has since passed.”
Mesdoram emphasizes ‘everyone’ by gliding his pointer finger to the other 38 names placed in his flesh – he really shouldn’t be breaching this subject, but he wants someone to know before he dies. “Hawk feels so much regret… and I am only a pawn that furthers his pain… I do not want…” Mes pauses looking for a bit of comfort before speaking; normally, he would be on his 5th glass of whiskey to drown out the voices bombarding his and Hawk’s subconscious. But for this moment, he places his glass down and now lovingly holds the hand that still occupies his face – he spreads his fingers along Brennia’s and allows their fingers to intertwine between the vacant spaces: this is the first time Mes has chosen someone over a drink for reassurance. “I want them to understand I am just a tool being used for sacrificial slaughter… that Hawkeye is still here and breathing… and that I never wanted to kill or hurt anyone. Everything I’ve done, or tried to do, is to protect Hawkeye from –“
Suddenly, an unexpected gust of wind fills the room and puts out the fire keeping the couple warm; the room goes pitch black into a seemingly empty void, but their body’s are lit by unknown origins. Both Brennia and Mesdoram flop on their butts as the furniture disappears as quickly as the roaring fire did; Mesdoram looks instinctually stands up and begins searching for the wicked Nariv and where her next assault will come from – panicking a little bit, he feels for his elemental sword and either of his twin dirks, but his search comes up empty as they are left behind in the tavern’s couple’s suite. Another brisk gust fills the blacken void as an evil cackle fills the abyss: the monotone voice of Nariv.
“My my, Mesdoram’s angel… I must thank you for befriending our favorite drow. I cannot think of a more tortuous and excruciating end for Mesdoram than the damage you have caused. Mere days away from his and Hawkeye’s death, to show this PITIFUL creature any mercy and kindness… I cannot think of a more literal way to rip out his heart… I mean I can, but we will save that for his play.” Nariv isn’t visible in her distorted monologue and cannot be interpreted having no physical body present. The evil elven woman continues her taunting of the couple.
“Mesdoram… do you really think anything you do now will redeem your soul?” Nariv asks loudly and with a heavy sarcastic tone followed by another loud deafening cackle. “No matter what happens that night, your soul is damned to me and your torment will only be magnified.” Mesdoram scowls piercingly into the dark holding one palm out towards Brennia, nervously scanning and looking for any other treachery that could threaten his angel. “You cannot have her!” The drow angrily shouts at Nariv as he continues vigorously to protect Brennia at all angles. Nariv then addresses Brennia directly inside her mind while her protector is distracted.
“Oh, and you avian… you like musicals? Well, how’s this for a preview of your lover boy’s death?” Nariv now switches to her singing voice and performs the haunting acapella number for everyone in the void to hear:
“Twisting the sword so that he bleeds into my hands,
Seeing the terror and pain pouring out of his veins.
Watching his loved ones collapse to their knees,
These are a few of my favorite things.”
At the completion of her horrible lyrics, Mesdoram is abruptly stabbed through his chest by his own earthly elemental brand; the hilt is firmly thrusted into his breastbone with the metal tongue ripping through his right lung and sticking out through his back a good 3-4 foot. The chilling cold feels Mesdoram body as his central nervous system goes limp and collapses to his knees in horror… blood gushes from both his wound and his mouth as his hands dangle lifelessly to his side… and before completely falling face first, he uses his last breath to call her name… “Bre…” but he does not have enough air to complete his angel’s name and falls limp on the cold hard floor…
Brennia is happy to have her affections returned and that old warm fluttery feeling settles into the pits of her stomach in a good way. His flattery continues to make her blush and she cannot help but to grin like some silly school girl talking to her crush. "What is it to be 'evil' anyway?" Her gaze slips from his eyes to his lips as she elaborates, "I do not think this life is so simple where good and evil are so black and white… I hope they all open their minds and listen - at least give you a chance, Sapphire." Concern knits her brow together, "a pawn?" It hits a chord with her because that is all she is to Queen Reginae these days. She follows suit and puts her own drink down as well to hold both of his hands, being his anchor instead of the whiskey. "I…" She recalls Raven and her own sacrifice which must have come at great risk for the entity until Brennia was ready to be pulled back into their body because she hasn't felt that connection since, "I wish it were not true, Sapphire, but I do understand. I do not mean to speak for Hawkeye, but I assure you that he will be grateful to you one day as I am grateful to Raven."
When the abrupt change happens in their dream, she hits the cold black floor with a, "umph!" Eyes narrow into the void as if she could seek out this annoying broad, but the efforts are futile. Speaking to the wench is pointless, so she simply stays as close as Sapphire will let her. Nariv confirms the drows death a third time now and her stomach feels like it has fallen through the floor. Instead of trying to verbally assault the invisible brat, she decides to comfort Sapphire instead, "you don't need to redeem anything with me. Do not worry, I am safe and no one is allowed to have me," which is true by the Queen's standard seeing as Brennia is her pet and the avian doubts that she is yet to be bored for her 'pretty little songbird'.
The avian scowls at the intrusion of her mind and the sickening song, but she doesn't have much time to react when the drow is stabbed through the chest. A sharp gasp fills her lungs with air before a piercing scream is emitted from her which she has never done before and the ink pattern on her skin swirls aggressively. Swiftly she moves to his side while the pair are transported far away from their dream and away from Nariv, finding themselves under a large knobby tree under the twilight of fireflies and stars. She helps the drow fall to his back along her lap seeing as the sword also disappeared, but the damage was already done. "No, no, no, no, no," she whispers as tears trail down her cheeks.
"Sapphire, stay with me, please," she tries to put pressure on his wound with one hand while the other cradles his head and he lets out his last breath with the beginnings of her real name. "Sapphire," she whispers back and locks their lips together until his lips fall limp with the rest of his body. She is still stuck in this nightmare as she sobs on his chest, her hands soaked in his blood from trying to save him, but she couldn't do a thing for him. It feels like an eternity, but eventually the dream begins to fade.
Brennia's Luxurious Suite
Brennia wakes with a start, a sharp gasp of air fills her again as if she is about to scream, but no sound comes as she inspects her hands because they still feel wet with blood. Those hands clasp over her mouth as she begins to sob because the emotion of the dream was all too real for her to take and she decides that maybe she needs to be done trying to create an escape for herself in the dream realm. For the next couple of weeks, it is hard to get the avian to do much more than lay in the comfort of her bed while re-reading her dream journal over and over again.
Moments before inside the tavern bar room
The door is slammed to the dismay of Nariv, offering the two insubordinates the most disgusted scowl imaginable. “Who does that drow think he is? Does he not remember he only exists because of me?!” Crossing her arms, she begins her vindictive plan to ruin the rest of Mesdoram’s perfect dream… “I could just kill him now? No… I’ll wait until they are in a vulnerable state… that way, I can destroy him and his enormous new play thing.” As she thinks out loud, the elven man at the bar begins to chuckle loudly at Nariv.
“Man Nariv, you really are one sad individual.” With the disrespectful insult hurled at her, Nariv sneers back at the man. “How dare you, Hawkeye. You’re the whole reason the three of us are in this mess. Or did you forget?” Suddenly and fearlessly, Hawkeye has left his seat and now has Nariv’s throat pinned down with his slender forearm with a knife grazing her right cheek. For the first time in 15 years, Nariv feels genuine panic… but for only a moment after she realizes she’s in a dream.
“You have tortured Mes and I far too long and have kept us caged for even longer. Your treachery will be exposed during our play: one way or another, you will suffer for your crimes.” A very angry Hawkeye talks plainly to the elven trickster. “Your pathetic ploy to toy with us will end, and you will be left holding the bag or your own head – whatever one I see fit.” Force pressing the knife to her cheek bone, Hawkeye attempts to slice off a chunk of Nariv’s face. But alas, she has disappeared and phased into nothing before any damage could be done… Hawkeye breathes very heavily, recollects his thoughts, and calmly looks around feeling no danger whatsoever. “I really like this dream, Mesdoram. You should use this one for the play.” And with the stabbing of Mesdoram upstairs, Hawkeye closes his eyes in anticipation of the dream sequence endin-
Back at Mesdoram’s house in Trist’oth
Mesdoram is shooketh. This is not what Nariv promised him in exchange for one last moment with Brennia. Driven mad, Mesdoram stands up from his trash-bag bed and storms through the alley’s of Trist’oth, shouting angrily throughout the Underdark. “NARIV!! YOU ARE DONE!! BEFORE MY TIME IS OVER, I WILL LOOK UPON YOUR SEVERED HEAD AND SMILE”! Fueled by pure rage, Mesdoram makes his way to the surface world entrance ready to set the entire Sage forest ablaze! But… as he begins to calm down a bit, Hawkeye flashes before his eyes and makes a brief appearance in the forest with him. The much taller Hawkeye stands and smiles proudly down to his drow brethren and places both of his hands on Mes’ shoulders.
“I know, my friend. That feeling of pain… that feeling of loss… you think it makes you weak. But the truth is, that feeling of loss is what makes you strong... and that sense of belonging you have longed for is here..." Pausing for a second, Hawk points to Mesdoram's breaking heart to symbolize what 'here' means - Mesdoram smiles back at Hawkeye. "... That's what I had with Atropos... that's what we had with Vexar. My memories of her, my brother, and you give me the will to go on, my friend... but Nariv is weakening everyday. If these were our last days, do you want to spend them rampaging and creating carnage? Or do you want to find Brennia one last time.” Hawk kneels down to meet his counterpart and Mesdoram is noticeably calmer. “We are so proud of you Mes. You deserve one chance to exist without fear. Do you remember where she said she might be?”
The drow pauses for a moment… not sure if this is where Brennia will be, he audibly says. “Schezerade or Alithrya… those were the places she said.” Hawkeye smiles brightly at Mes. “Go get her man.” Without warning, Hawkeye pulls in Mesdoram for a brotherly hug and says in a loving manner. “And whatever happens to us, I’ll be there with you. Promise…” But as Mesdoram starts to embrace his opposite, Hawkeye had already disappeared back into his subconscious.
Now, standing alone in Sage Forest, Mesdoram mentally begins repeating “Schezerade… Schezerade… I don’t know where that is, but I’m going to find you Brennia. No matter how folly the search may be…” And without saying another word, Mesdoram pulls out the black feather he has saved from his previous dream, softly kisses the trinket, and places the feather in his left robed pocket.
“I’m coming, Brennia... my angel..."