RP: Flightless Bird
Summary: Quintessa invades Rilla's lucid dream and finds out more than they bargained for.
Rilla spent nights all over. Sometimes under a particularly thick fir tree, sometimes at Magik’s place where she’d found that she was always welcome, tonight it was in Vigilanti Semper. She’d snuck in, this time not because she didn’t belong but because she didn’t want to talk. Perpetually all in black she stayed in shadows until she found an empty bed and a room with a door she could lock. Her shoulders were tense, drawn up silhouetting her collarbones in deeper shadows. She stood with her back to the door for a long moment, stiff as blue eyes searched the corners of the little room. Bending down, she untied her boots and kicked them off, tossed her jacket onto the chair in the corner of the room. She unbuckled the strap around her thigh, her dagger and the pouch with the stone. She left the former in place when she tossed it to the chair as well, but the latter was palmed, the leather pouch slipped off and fastened to the strap of her black cotton tank top. Next were the straps around her torso holding various smaller blades. She hid them underneath her leggings, all but one blade which was tossed onto the bed. With a groan Rilla sunk into it, rolled over and under the blankets, pulling them up around her thin form as she rolled onto her side, back to the wall and curled up into a loose ball. She held the pillow close to her chest and took even breaths until her shoulders released, her jaw loosened, and she nodded off alone.
Falling truly was an apt description of how it felt to lapse into sleep. One moment there was nothing but the shapes and colours on the backs of her eyelids, the next she opened her eyes in the Southern Sage racing through the canopy in the dark of night. She dropped to the ground, rolled over her shoulder and back upright as she pinned the man she’d been chasing between herself and a tree. Her arms up and her lips curled into a feral snarl, “what the f**k do you think you’re-” she cursed, bright blue eyes wide with disbelief. The hooded form towered over her, a blade pressed to his throat. “Jay,” she breathed, no longer surprised by what she’d found. He smiled a wicked smile, his hand wrapped around her wrist and twisted back, she didn’t fight him. Releasing the weapon, it fell only for him to catch it in his other hand and slip the dagger into her pocket. ‘Little bird,” he breathed, red eyes burned into her, “say it again.” Jaylen was the one thing she always questioned. Even Rilla didn’t know if he was real or part of the dream. “I’m not your little bird anymore Jaylen.” She breathed, the first hundred times she’d dreamed it, the sentence had been as angry as when she’d spit it at him initially. His lips pulled into a smile, she swallowed, the rest of the world near irrelevant with him in front of her. He had gravity the rest of the dream did not, the trees along the edges of her vision were faint and faded. The only thing in focus was him. She tugged at his hair, pulled his head back into the tree in one quick motion that made him smile and tighten his hand around her wrist. ‘You’ll always be my little bird now,” breathed the man who escaped her grasp easily, tilting his head forward and letting his lips brush along her jaw. Rilla’s eyes closed, her breath shook, ‘and I’ve been looking for you for a very long time.’
His eyes burned into her as he leaned in, the scene flashed between the forest and a bedroom where the scent of blood was heavy. The roles were reversed, Jaylen’s arms around Rilla’s human form, a sack over her head while he restrained her from behind, thin wrists in one powerful hand. He pulled auburn curls to one side of her throat, pulling the bag from Rilla’s head. In the flashes of forest, his head leaned onto her forehead, she licked her lips before the man leaned in and kissed them, pulling her into him. She didn’t resist, couldn’t resist him. “It was you.” She breathed, and the scene broke again back to the bedroom, neither scene quite real as the man sunk his fangs into her throat. Rilla’s eyes were wide, the body of her husband strewn across their bed, his blonde hair pasted to his scalp with blood, feathers from inside of a pillow were coated in red and stuck to the wall, the sheets, the floor. He lost control, draining the one person left who could have loved him this way. Slowly her body went limp staring down the dead body on her bed, emotionless and resigned. It could have been a good dream if Jaylen had a little patience, was a little less possessive. The darkness was heavy, almost palpable as the dream came to a close.
Quintessa had similar habits to Rilla- it was one of the things she liked about the woman, so drifting from place to place, never really sticking to one location in particular wasn’t a forien concept to the changeling. After all, where did Quintessa belong? Even the cool shade of the Dark Forest was too much for her at times, a stark reminder that she was still half human, and her inner nature would always be pulling in two different directions. It was here, in Vigilanti Semper, that the dark fae girl returned when she felt particularly human. Only they truly got to see this human side to her. Out in the world she could be the cruel woman her mother likely was, a Nighthag, feeding on the dreams of others to prolong her wicked life. Quintessa also shared in this ability, but she did not need to feed upon the dreams for sustenance- however, that didn’t mean she didn’t like the taste. Over the past few months the resident changeling of the Warrior’s Guild had been conducting secret rituals in her laboratory, secrets she even hid from her admirer Jessie Raspberry. Each night she spent here she seclostered herself in her room and meditated as the guild slept, paroseing the different dreams, getting a small taste before moving to the next. Most were boring or too similar to the last, but occasionally she discovered a dream that interested her, or at the very least entertained her, but she rarely discovered something that fully caught her attention. It was a night like this one that she encountered a familiar vibration coming from a guildmate. When the girl’s astral form swept down invisibly to investigate she was surprised to discover Rilla, but pleasantly so. This was an opportunity she didn’t want to pass up.
Quintessa floated down to caress the side of Rilla’s face with a ghostly hand, forging a direct connection between their two minds as the woman slept and dreamed. When the changeling finally entered the vampire’s dreamscape, it more closely resembled a nightmare. She heard arguing, heated words between Rilla and this ‘Jay’ person, so the hag-born girl lingered in the peripherals, not wishing to make herself known. Quintessa instantly felt disdain for Jaylen and the way he spoke to Rilla, and a cold fury formed like a frozen rock in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to shout at the man, tell him to go frak himself and leave her friend alone, but she knew this wasn’t real- and her words would do nothing to change what had already taken place. Instead Quintessa grinded her teeth in fuming silence… but the scene changed suddenly and her fury gave way to something softer, something she couldn’t describe with words. Her jaw slowly unclenches as she drifts closer, slowly starting to understand what was taking place as she circled the pair. Quintessa knew deep down that if she was in Rilla’s place she’d have done the same. How often had she fantasised about this as a young teenager? Pensively the changeling drew closer to stand over Rilla’s lifeless body and the man that had stolen her life. With a small fraction of the disdain she had felt at the beginning of the dream, Quintessa’s pale lips curl into a sneer before she mutters. “Men have no self control.”
“Tell me about it.” Came Rilla’s reply out of the darkness, her laughter bitter and short. The good thing about dreams was that time was no issue. She awoke in an office in Cenril atop a cot, sat bolt upright and searched the room for her astral visitor. “Chop, chop. Let’s go.” Rilla clapped her hands together as she jumped to her feet, grabbing a long coat and opening the door into the bright Cenril streets, holding it for her visitor. The harbour was never her favourite place, though Rilla could sail. Hell, she was the first mate on a boat - although she might have been sleeping with the captain. She was younger here, distinctly human. The clouds rolled in around them as she led Quintessa through the streets as they used to be, to the South and past to a smaller harbour. Wordlessly Rilla took a small boat, waited for Quintessa to come aboard before setting to sea. It was a short journey, one she’d made thousands of times in worse weather. She sat across from the woman, staring openly for a moment too long (this is her dream, she’ll stare if she wants to). “What are you doing here?” Rilla asked - whether she understood why it was strange was an entirely other question. If Rilla understood what was happening, she didn’t let on.
Quintessa turned in the direction of the voice to find herself in a new location, in the city she loved to hate, Cenril. Truth was she didn’t mind it so much anymore since she started staying with her mentor and mother figure, Khitti. Having people she considered family living there made her hatred evaporate fairly quickly considering how deeply Quintessa could hate things, and the changeling had even organized relief efforts there after the recent zombie outbreak. However, in the Cenril in the dream realm that hadn’t happened yet; the city looked like it always had been as Rilla led her closer to the docks. A sense of dread surged through her as mismatched eyes spotted the ocean. Of course, Rilla would be dreaming about the sea. As Quintessa gripped her seat tightly, her gaze dancing over the waves for a moment, she doesn’t realize Rilla is staring. When asked what she was doing here, however, her eyes flickered to meet them head on. “What do you mean?” Quintessa mused, letting a smirk tug at the corner of her mouth to hide her discomfort, “What am I doing here in this boat, or what am I doing here in general?”
Rilla shrugged at the question, still staring at the changeling who very much did not belong there. “Maybe a bit of both.” Rilla said and finally looked ahead into the waters. Steering was irrelevant and she knew it, though she put on at least some front for her guest, adjusting the sail periodically for appearances sake. “Anyway, I could use the extra hands with what I’m about to be dealing with.” She laughed through her nose and shook her head. As they approached the Rynvale harbour the smell of death and explosives burned in her nose. There was rubble and the odd floating body to navigate around, Rilla ignored it and docked easily, a man stood at the end of it to help her. “Just stick with me.” Instructed Quintessa as he tied off the boat. She strode right past him, head high and shoulders back, and up to a man who appeared in his 30’s, skin tanned and hair dark with a blade at his side and throwing knives affixed to his belt. In the hilt of the sword was an emerald, the same size and shape as the ruby set in the broadsword Rilla carried (but wouldn’t be caught dead with in present times). The same stone that in present-day was now carried in a pouch or around her neck alongside a thin gold band (which was presently on her ring finger). Rilla nodded to the man who nodded back and ushered both of them through the shipyard and into an office. His face was even, but concern flashed in his eyes. Rilla didn’t sit, but gestured to a chair in the corner as if to indicate that Quintessa was welcome to it.
“Kail, why am I here?” Rilla asked evenly, the man placed a broad hand on her shoulder. Rilla didn’t shake it off, just looked between it and him. ‘Ril, I told you we had to leave.’ She shook her head, bit her lip and searched the older man’s face. “I understand why Arien and Ganjimu need to go, but you don’t have to.” She almost begged, the finality of it still just as raw as the first time. Kail just nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line and then to the top of her head. ‘You can do this, Ril. Taught you almost everything I know.’ He winked at her, her chin wobbled but she nodded. The figure ignored Quintessa entirely, whether because she was a visitor and this was the path the scene had to take or because he would have in reality? No one would ever know. My narrative sources tell me that Kail is trapped at the bottom of a cave somewhere to this day. Rilla’s eyes squeezed shut, the man disappeared. Just because Rilla knew she was dreaming didn’t mean she could affect the outcome. With that the door opened, the boy from the dock returned as if Kail Wolfram had never been there to begin with. ‘Miss … uhm … Admiral …. Rilla?’ The boy stuttered, she waved him off and the door clicked loudly behind. Rilla drew her blade, shoved it between the floorboards with a cracking sound to hold it upright. “Quintessa, you’ve got some magic or something, right? Get that out for me.” Rilla was fighting back tears as she gestured to the stone set in the hilt of her blade.
Quintessa stares at Rilla for a moment, her smirk dropping from her face to set her lips into a straight line again. “Well,” she began, finally allowing her mismatched optics to follow Rilla’s gaze back to the waves, “My friends can always count on my help. I hope by now you understand that offer extends to you too.” Quintessa was concerned now. She’d never been injured or anything in a dream before, but the things she saw stuck with her long after awakening. With legs still shaky from the ocean, the changeling finally touched ground on Rynvale, an island she had studied the histories of extensively. Even the blade at her side was made in the ancient sylvan elf style. At this point in the dream Quintessa just stood and watched silently. These names, Arien, Ganjimu, Kail, they felt important- or at least they used to be. That importance became a lingering memory, a memory that Quintessa could only know of as an echo. Were these people abandoning Rilla? The teen felt her heart sink. Abandonment was all she had known for a long time- she understood this emotion far too intimately. As Rilla finally addressed her, Quintessa approached, her heeled boots clicking against the wooden floorboards. “I’m not the only one here with magic,” the dark fae says as she kneels low to examine the stone, a pale hand hovering just inches away from it. “You’re connected to the weave as well- the shadow weave, I can feel it.” Quintessa’s hand cups around the hilt of the blade, her delicate fingers curling around the stone on the end as she attempts to dislodge it. “I can help with that too.” Quintessa holds up the gem in her hand, the stone rolling around slightly in her palm as she holds it up for Rilla. “Like it or not, you’re stuck with me following you around.”
There was something inherently odd about the offer being made 10 years too late, but Rilla nodded hesitantly. A fine trait, but Quintessa would have been a child at the time. Her concern was noted, tucked away for real-world-Rilla to make sense of. In the meantime she still had the natural progression that she walked through hundreds of times before tonight. Her control hadn’t been as good at 18 as it was at nearly 30, her chin quivered, her voice shook, but Rilla drew a trembling breath all the same and her form stilled. “I don’t know anything about that.” She said simply, watching the girl as she touched the stone (albeit it was all a dream and the stone itself was perfectly safe). “But if you can help, you should.” Intentionally vague so as not to give herself away, Rilla took the stone from the changeling’s hand. It sparked to life, brilliant red and glowing in pulses that never quite died. “Then maybe I won’t need this.” Rilla mumbled, one hand closing around the stone, the other took Quintessas. “I need you to see this.” In this dream she was still human, the men in the harbour thought to call after her but a sharp look from their new boss silenced them as she pulled Quintessa back towards the water. Her footfalls were little but soft thuds as she reached the wood of the dock and released Quintessa’s hand. “If I had an item that was connected to me and it went missing what’s the worst thing that would happen?” Rilla mused, the stone produced once more and tossed up, each time it landed back in her palm it flashed with red light and energy.
Quintessa smiles as she stands, her hand returning to her side under her cloak as she listens to Rilla speak. “That’s okay,” the strange woman spoke, “In due time everything will be clear.” The fae girl was used to things being messy and hard to understand, but she was particularly good at piecing these things together, at spotting the patterns and making sense of the chaos. Taking Rilla’s hand, Quintessa follows, scanning the crowd of dock workers who were already cowed by the young Rilla. Quintessa couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiarity, the scene reminding her a lot of bossing around her henchmen back at the Misshapen Fortress. Quintessa would have barely been a toddler at this point in time, however. No fortresses or magical powers yet. When asked ‘what’s the worst that could happen’ the changeling smiles sheepishly, recounting her studies on divination magic. “Well, it depends on who finds it. A witch like me could use it to haunt you- you wouldn’t like that, would you?” A lighthearted giggle escapes Quintessa, but she wasn’t kidding. “An object like that you wouldn’t want to let out of your sight.” Her mirth quickly fades as she further considers her own words. “In case… a bad person finds it first.” She locks eyes with Rilla, a serious air between them. “What is it?”
Rilla probably would have woken up confused if she was anyone else. Details would slip away, but Quintessa was clearly here for a reason. She drew a shaking breath, meeting the other woman’s mismatched gaze as she clenched her jaw. How many times had she just taken what Kail said and carried on with clearing the harbour? Not tonight. The harbour’s sound turned down several notches by her mind, Rilla exhaled and a crooked grin pulled over her lips. She’d only perfected that in her 20’s, but Quintessa had no way of knowing. She let the silence hang between them, eyes locked until she spoke. “I guess we’re going to find out.” Rilla said with a shrug, and then she turned and wound back her arm, the ruby in her hand glowing until the moment it left her hand. She pitched it out into the harbour where it landed with a plop. Maybe it was further dramatized by the fact that she was dreaming, maybe her subconscious mind knew something that she didn’t. Casting it away not only didn’t feel better, but the sound of it’s fall seemed to echo impossibly loudly. Her knees shook, her hands did as well and when Rilla looked back to Quintessa there was concern written all over her face. Her heart thundered, but her face paled and breathing shallowed. “That’s not good.” Rilla mumbled and sunk to sitting, her elbows rested on her knees and head in hands. “That might have been a mistake.” Rilla laughed bitterly, the biggest shame was that she couldn’t wake herself up.
“W-” Quintessa reached up to stop Rilla but she was too late. She might not have understood the significance of symbolism in dreams, but the changeling did. She’d been studying dream magic all her life, before she could really even cast spells. The call of the dream realm had followed her since puberty, and with it the urge to return to her mother’s native plane. That’s why she was here, invading Rilla’s dreams, chasing that connection, but what she just witnessed she wasn’t sure how to perceive emotionally. “You just-” Quintessa slowly looked back at the human woman beside her, a look of disbelief before she cackled nervously. “You’re insane. It’s no wonder you can’t control your natural magic, you are simply closed off to it up here.” The changeling reaches up to touch her own forehead, above and between her eyes. “This proves it.” Quintessa wraps her lanky arms around her body as she turns to face the harbor, where the jewel had just sunk. “I cannot do this for you though. I cannot brave those waves and force you to reconnect with your heartstone… I’m too scared. If you really want it back, you’ll have to get it yourself or find someone else with a connection to the sea. I can bring them here if you have someone in mind, but other than that this is in your hands.”
Rilla laughed wildly at the changeling’s words, a sort of madness flashing behind crystalline eyes. This had broken her when it happened, and a hundred times after, but she’d never had the guts to actually do it. “That man did whatever he did to make that stone whatever it is.” Rilla explained, closing her eyes as she considered it.. Her nose wrinkled, aware of her own rashness, the human nature she’d systematically destroyed in the years that followed. “Can you really tell me you wouldn’t do the same?” Those words came softer and she rose again, her shoulders slumped now and her breathing less even. “I’d go get it, but I think I’ll need a rest first.” Rilla felt it calling her and she stumbled forward slightly before falling into Quintessa and steadying herself on the other woman. “Maybe next time, right? Just gotta sleep it off -” and by that Rilla meant wake up, in Vigilanti Semper she made a soft sound and stirred, half in the dream and half out. “What do you think, back to the office and then tomorrow I can go and deal with it when I deal with the bodies…” She mumbled, already heading back the way she’d come unsteadily.
Quintessa made a face instead answering, pursing her lips to the side as she considered what she would do. “I don’t know what I would have done,” she answers truthfully, “I’ve never had an issue embracing my talents- I wanted to be powerful. I wanted to be important. I don’t sense the same kind of ambition in you… Your fire is different than mine but it still burns bright.” Quintessa reaches out for Rilla to help steady her, giving her probably the gentlest smile she had ever given her before. “I have no doubt you’ll do whatever is best for yourself- but yes, our time here is drawing to a close.” Her mismatched eyes turned upward, to watch the skies fragment and break apart as the dreamscape disintegrated in the wake of Rilla’s consciousness. “We will speak soon, I promise.” (Promise) (promise) And with that Quintessa faded away, leaving Rilla’s mind to return to her own body, still sitting in a meditative posture on the floor of her room. Her astral form passes by quickly, extinguishing the candles around her as the dark fae takes in a deep breath. Slowly, her eyes flutter open and she reaches for her journal, scribbling down what she witnessed before the memories fade from her. “Fascinating… Fascinating indeed.”