Open Chronicles Once Upon A Dream

[Winston Cumulus]

Winston found himself back in his room in the palace, his hunting tunic and clothes, along with his reading glasses still on. He figured this was because at one point he didn't really care about comfort and just dressed for what he would be doing the next day. He remembered back to the days where he used to do other things than read and mutely hunt deer and wild animals.

"Ah, no. Being a royal's ward/actual royal wouldn't ever let me do that again, but it's fine. Being left on the street would be worse. I hear talking outside. Perhaps Father and Mother are calling me down," he said with a sigh. Grumbling a bit to himself, he got up and stepped into the shoes so conveniently placed next to his bed. "Let's see how shit this day will be.." he groaned. Hangover was still quite prevalent from his depression-drinking the night before.

Much to Winston's surprise, he opened the door into a bright flash, which resulted in a loud, embarrassing shout of shock. As he stared into the gleaming doorway, his eyes slowly adapting, he began to make the outline of a...ballroom? His brow furrowed, arching in confusion as he slowly closed the door, expecting everything in the next room to be gone the next time he opened it. What he saw, a hallucination?

"The fuck?"

Lo and behold, however, in accordance with his luck and habits, he opened the door and found the same place he had just saw. "Alright, this is strange. Maybe...?" he faltered as he looked in past the threshold. There were so many voices, and this was indubitably a court's ballroom. "Well, I can handle a court. Fake emotions and souless smiles are quite easy to master after fifteen years." he grunted as he went in. No contempt towards court though, it was just a fact of life that he had to grow into dealing with.

There were a wealth of fae, all dressed in fanciful garb. "Wish I had dressed better." he joked dryly. It was the only way he knew to kid among these no doubt also powerful figures. Wouldn't want to offend any of them. The appearance of these folk, however, helped him figure out something he had suspected. This was a dream. He had never met any fae, and given the racism and xenophobia toward non-humans in general of the city Thundra, probably never would. He had heard from adventurers their hatred towards humans though, and was prepared.

"Interesting! I think spending some time here would be beneficial. The kids of the castle do love their stories. I as a human though, may be in contempt of court." he said, looking around. At this point he was so lost the accidental joke whizzed past his head and barely registered at the back of his mind. "Not that I blame them, as dicks is just one genital sufficient to classify our species."

Perhaps the best of all was the bar far across the room. "Alright, now I know where to go if social interaction doesn't pan out. I should at least make an effort though, so nobody has the right to mock House Cumulus. I may be detached, and be....not proud of it, yet comfortable, but sullying my family's name is not the result I would like. Especially from strangers.

So, after he prepared himself, with a luckily stocked closet forming his outfit for the night, storing one of his hunting knives in his boots, he walked out with his trademark look like he was entertaining a servant's frantic words. He didn't really care what happened if the drinks were good. Unfortunately, he spied a absolutely foulmouthed human making an embarrassment of himself.

He walked over to the group and gave him a pinch on the neck, knocking him out instantly. (Don't worry that was referencing my other character) "For the sake of my ears, everyone else's, and civility, that was necessary. Have a good day, you two. I hope I have the chance to make your acquaintance later." were the only words out of his mouth heard before he turned to continue the festivities. There was dancing and alcohol all around him, and there appeared to be no real entry into conversation.

"Ah, oh well. Can't say this isn't how I expected it to go." he shrugged as he plopped down in a chair, boredom causing his eyelids to flicker on and off his eyeballs.

---

OOC: This guy should piss people off less! Also, maybe I missed some meta and powergaming moments as I wrote Fritz's godspeed mouth. With this character, there will be a lot less of that.

 

[Fraeya]

Ameris

Fraeya wasn't sure how it happened. The details seemed to slip from her mind even as she tried to recount them. She supposed that's how dreams worked anyway.

The next moment she was dancing within King Midir's arms. Everything else around them seemed to blur, his face and only him coming into sharp focus. The sounds around them dulled. She had only ears for his voice. The way his hands felt on her hip and hand. The heat his body offered as she danced close.

Her mind was still trying to make sense of everything.

He would never say my love.

And she didn't like him. She wasn't supposed to like him.

But every time she tried going for logic, it fell through her fingers like water. Green eyes couldn't stop staring at him as they moved seamlessly across the dance floor.

 

[Mab]

Ah, what a delight Bubkiss was to watch navigate the dream. She had half a mind to limit his magic, but he was being respectful of the space. It was a roundabout approach, directing the spell to find her signature hidden within rather than asking around. It entertained her. There was a much easier way, and yet this one pursued her on his own merit alone. It was very endearing. It was exactly the sort of thing that was going to grant him a very lucrative opportunity if he succeeded.

Equally pleasant were his compliments, honest and free. Mab sighed and floated along beside him, lazily lounged on nothing to survey his progress. She was intrigued by his magical skills, but it was his reverent words that made her sigh dreamily.

When he paused to send a message, she gave a shrill squeal of laughter that filled the music box. What a charmer! Mab was as vain as any other fae, and this man was winning her over in the best way possible. Not in a romantic way, but in the way that a puppy toddled about being too cute to mind his shortcomings. She was just going to scoop him up and keep him forever!

He was right, however. She was very busy and there were many dreams to attend to. Mab sighed and petted his puppet's hat.

"Soon, pet."

She drifted between dreamers, making small changes for their benefit or demise. The maze was doing wonderful, and she watched the not-so-in-lovebirds for a while. Both gave more to Mab's consciousness than they likely would have if they'd been aware of where they were. A dreadlord who didn't hate a fae for what he was? Intriguing. And the poor púca wandered strange roads in his mind.

A lover? No, a mate, Mab realized. Her heart ached. At least she knew by which duanann this one had been invited to this dream. Love, and oh so fitting for this evening of Heart and Hearth.

But this was healing, and as much as Mab wanted to intervene and soothe away his distress or to bend the will of the girl holding his hand to comfort him, she knew that some dreams were bittersweet. Healing wounds hurt, and it was that pain that made them real even after -- even in dreams.

For once, Mab kept her nose out of their business. She moved on, looking for someone else to entertain.

It was not hard to find her amusement elsewhere. Mab sighed as she drifted down beside Fraeya as she and Midir danced in a complete about face in her regard for personal privacy.

Don't you, though? her mind whispered sweetly into the girl's subconscious. What is it about him that draws you in?

A little introspection never hurt, did it?

 

[Medja]

Thus far, in spite of his nerves, Kade was performing quite admirably. That perspective might've been somewhat...enhanced by the fae magic that had set Medja down this path, but nonetheless, nothing was 'over,' quite the contrary; things were just getting heated up. Kade's cute little display of charm and skill that was his "magic trick" only served to punctuate that fact.

"My, oh my...such talent!" Medja husked, a smirk on her lips as she watched another pair of statues spill onto the ground some distance away.

Immediately one of her hands returned to playing around below Kade's waistline, now with much less hindrance or distraction to stop her from grabbing at whatever she wanted. Her other hand grabbed one of Kade's and placed it on her bare midriff, already exposed by the design of her dress.

"You're rather good at undressing, it seems. I do believe I could use some assistance getting out of all this, if you don't mind." She dared him further, reveling in egging him on little by little. If it was this much fun watching him writhe underneath her now, then she could only imagine how wonderful it was going to be in a few minutes. The thought made her bite her lip as her gaze shifted into a low smolder.

 

[Maphesa]

That encounter was an irritating start to her day. Or rather her night, or whenever exactly this dream took place. Maphesa had no clue exactly when, and remained convinced in her mistaken belief that the Summer Court was the party responsible. That theory seemed to soundly explain why the mirror had been there, and why her clothes were in the style she wore when she was among them. It could even explain the sudden presence of that human, perhaps she was meant to get along with him. They must not remember her well, she mused. Or perhaps Sabeana had involved herself and had decided that he might suit. She was always helpless, far as Maphesa had known her.

The truth might be revealed were she to ask around, or even made a good examination of the magic woven to enable the scene. But to take either action would imply she was wrong in her assessment, and naturally she had no inclination whatsoever to do either. Maphesa desired answer to a question that didn’t actually exist, and continued in her search for evidence that would confirm her assumptions.

Eyes scanned her surroundings from behind her silver studded mask for either others within the dream, or for further irritating anomalies such as those she woke up to. Annoyed yet determined, Maphesa strode onward, ever confident in her own delusion.

 

[Zakarias]

Crow, as he had called himself earlier in the night, noticed the little cat and his eyes squeezed together gleefully.

"My," he sounded impressed. "What an absolutely savage little thing you are, dear cat," he tittered, hiding his mouth behind his cup, his silver eyes narrowed languidly as he glanced at the fae woman who carried the ferocious feline verse-maker. He plucked a drink from a nearby server and with a shift of the hands and a dust of magick, the flute of drink turned to saucer of milk, twinkling bright about its crystal bowl where in the cream-rich drink pooled.

"For you," he said, daintily as he held it up. "And for the lady," with the other hand, he flourished and pulled a red rose from his sleeve.

To them, he was not in his usual red garb, but the black elegance befitting a ball, and a crow face masked bordered his silver eyes, though his translucent star-blooded visage glowed and fluxed just below the black beak of the disguise.

---

Astrid Bielke Elio

 

[MrTophat]

Bubkiss remained motionless as he sharpened his ears and focused his arcane wit for any hint of a response. It was as if he had made a sound in the dead of night and hoped that creaking floorboards would not betray him. That the owner of the house he trod loudly within would not thunder down some staircase and eject him due to the intrusion. The gnome didn't know if he had ventured too far in his attempt to discern the owner of this place, but the thought halted him. His muscles tensed. His fingers tremored slightly from lingering so close to the energy that he had run his message across. He allowed time to reveal what it might to him.

The dream unfurled as it was want to as he waited with baited breath.

Hints of dulled conversation trickled into Bubkiss' reality, echoing and permeating with all the oddness that was afforded by the dream nature of the place. But Bubkiss doubted what his ears told him. He was aware that he awaited a reply, and in doing so, was careful about imagining one where there was not. Careful about paying attention to what fragments his imagination clung to for hope of meaning. This was a precaution in the waking world, let alone the springboard that was the dreamscape he found himself.

The gnome exhaled, his breath coming out in a shudder.

He clenched his small right hand a few times and massaging his fingertips into the centre of his palm for clues. The hand formed a fist and promptly went to the underside of his chin. His brown eyes looked from left to right, as if surveying a busy street that he might have to cross. Being so short of statue he was used to people treading without heed of his presence, let alone wagons, carts and coaches that might roll by, and over, without impunity. What trace of the illusionary power he had just caused a tremor upon to send a message through, it lingered within his hand. It was as if he had pressed his palm against such a busy street and felt the wheels turn, the shoes tread, the rain fall.

“Conduits of power without material components, nothing to resonate energy from at each origin point of manifestation. Mm. Not that I can tell from here at least, without my tools to divvie up the truth of it, no sir. But what can I tell, what could I possibly tell, from here, about this structure. This form. Well. Well...there's no single point of issuing the whim of the creator to spread outwards, it's like there's multiple keystones of resonance instead. Doesn't even need keystones from what I'm sensing. It's just a fountain of illusion, flowing outwards, and then back in, but without...without directional flow constraints as something more traditional in scope and form. The conduits are triple threaded too, perhaps more, probably more from the integrity of the conduits. They're without hindrance in polarity, the energy is free to ebb and flow...instead of being unipolar, they're omnidirectional!”

Bubkiss scratched the back of his head and whistled a low note. The tone rang clear. The gnome took off his hat and looked inside of it as he continued to reason and deduce aloud.

“I don't even think Master Murk was able to make omnidirectional conduits that were so robust. Master Murk constructions' always had an element of silver, or a gem to them to allow things to run smoothly and powerfully enough. Taught me the value of unipolar constructions so that momentum could be built up, that the internal structure of the illusion might power itself, like a flywheel. But this, it turns on a dime, it spins without hindrance, it's flexible, manueverable, malleable, like quicksilver, so much like quicksilver. Far more readily influenced by it's creator to operate according to...according to what purpose? To what end is all this?”

Bubkiss paused and exhaled loudly. He replaced his hat, stretched his body so that he was upon his toes and his fingers were outspread, and breathed deep in, as if appreciating freshly cut grass. He gave a small chuckle to himself. The illusionist began to speak with a low voice, emulating his old master's way of instructing him during times of struggle in his education, and quoting himself directly as he wagged his finger in pantomime.

“To what end he says! Ask not why Bubkiss. Ask how. Better answers to be found. More education lurks in that line of inquiry. Light shines clearest when...”

He stopped his self-indulgence to glance around himself, triggered into a thought by his emulation.

“The illusion, it shines inwards, instead of outwards! That's...wow! We're in a different realm of things, that's why things are operating so differently, but, still, the illusions are internally facing instead of externally! There's no bleed out, it's rather a bleed in. The energy swirls and redoubles upon itself. No wonder my transposition of a singular object was so curious to draw up, the energy wants to yield to internal pressure changes of the whole, there's no need to reinforce due to external sapping and such! Entropy, hah, what entropy! The ebb and flow is like within a terrarium, it's all...all oneness! A cycle that repeats and can be changed each time, according to the overall...yes...I know what to do to figure this out further!”

The gnome seized his cane with both hands and twirled it, and as he did so, a trail of purple light coursed around the orb atop of it.

“Ah ha! Well, Bubkiss!” he declared and laughed to himself in unbridled joy. This was not the laugh of the maniacal wizard awash with new power, nor the wild sorcerer who has just discovered they might hurl flame upon their enemies in great gouts. Nothing so very human, so unfaithful to the appreciation of arcane theory. It was a laugh of someone who had understood the nature of things, and as a result, his place within it, forever changed by the revelation. Like someone who gazed upon the stars and felt that they themselves were moved by the understanding of proportions of things, Bubkiss had gazed out into something beyond himself, and reached further understanding as to the nature of things. The experience of deducing the place, of appreciating the difference in the illusions to what he had experienced, had opened Bubkiss' mind to all manner of possibilities. His smile was broad, his shoulders were held high, and his hands trembled at the revelations he had deduced by virtue of being awash in such a masterful construction.

“You've done gone and accidentally entered the hall of the big leagues Bubkiss! So don't get carried away now, but if what I'm sensing is true, well. Well! No keystones. Complete directional flow upon a whim. No entropy to boot, just, wow, wow! Royal illusions! Thought Murk was good. I mean he was, is, good. But boy. Never showed me such a thing as entropy rules being so surpassed. Of such a repeating cycle, without bleed out, without geometric bolstering by materials! What's possible within such a vaccum, within such a playground, within such a self sustaining engine!”

He placed the cane down upon the ground, the orb now glowing a faint purple, as if ignited by his understanding of the place he had come to inhabit. His own powers of illusion itched to be used in such a place now that he understood the nature of the dominion.

Yet, the gnome, for all his curiosity as to what he could do in such a realm, tempered himself.

This was a place within a dream. Illusions, illusions he knew. And knew that he knew. But he did not know the theory behind the slumbering archetype, the aspects of dreams, and he appreciated his own fault in education there in this moment. It made him quiet for a long moment. He was aware of every breath. Every footfall. Every movement of his eyes.

He set about warning himself.

“Careful now. Don't get carried away here. Not my turf. Still just a small fish here in this pond. But still...To find a complete name at least, the signature that must lie in the overall structure, not individual motes of power. How it feeds itself, that's the key to my answers. I must found it out so I can...find out more when I wake up. Find out about this Queen one day. Maybe write them a letter!”

Bubkiss' words trailed off as he performed some calculations within his industrious mind. As he did so he walked quickly back and forth, as if to give further gumption to his summations. He was in this state for some time, so absorbed by the hard labour of the cerebral. Until at last, the gnome stopped and nodded his head to himself as he expanded his own arcane theories to accommodate his reality. He didn't even consider that he might be able to meet Queen Mab herself. He did not think himself worthy of such an honour, that he would be given such an audience. All he hunted for in this moment, was a name.

“It's possible. It's possible to pull this off. Yes. Yes. But carefully done. Not to disturb anything. Mirror. I need a mirror. Then I can find out a name. Before all this wonder ends I hope.”

Bubkiss set off to find one, his mind racing, his hands trembling at what was now possible, that fundamental assumptions about the nature of his forte that he had taken as gospel by one of the most powerful forces in his life, were broken, sundered, and reconstructed in a far more magnificent image. He had never hoped to make such a breakthrough in all his years, to witness a defiance of his Master's teachings.

The diminutive gnome strode forward with a spring in his step and his cane within his hands as he ventured out to explore this place he had been so fortunate to find himself within, to be taught by.

As he passed various people who were enjoying the dream for the narrative as he hunted for a mirror to do his work, no thought occurred to simply stop and ask someone for the name he sought. If someone suggested such an action to him he might have scoffed and asked instead for a mirror to find out himself.

No, the knowledge he sought had to be earned, attained, realised. What lay before Bubkiss was a test to his newly expanded arcane understanding of what was possible in the discipline of illusions, of light, of the very structure of magic.

If only he could find a mirror...

 

[Kade Anvar]

For Kade, the entirety of the Fae dream might as well have winked out of existence, myriad other occupants and all. He had never been so focused before in his life. Everything he saw was Mistress Medja. Everything he heard was Mistress Medja. Six preserve him, everything he breathed was Mistress Medja, so close were they.

There were some intensely interesting things happening in the region where his belt had once been, but Kade couldn't take his eyes off of hers. Twin terrors kept his gaze enraptured: of losing this moment and all of the novel thrills and burning desire that came with it, the sort of thing young men like him, coincidentally, dreamed about and fantasized over; of the perhaps irrational belief that breaking eye contact would cause so great an offense to the Empress that his head would be parted from his neck before he could blink.

It was a colossal push and pull between eagerness and nervousness.

But, alright, how was this for a plan? Yeah, he was scared to death of making the wrong move, no doubt. So what if he just did exactly as she said? Can't fault him for that, right? Isn't that what a loyal subject of the Empire was supposed to do? Follow the bidding of his Empress Regent? S-Sure, Kade knew that even in more mundane, everyday contexts, some cues weren't spoken, like the little biting of her lip Mistress Medja did. He knew that meant something, but, as the resident amateur, he didn't know exactly what. He was playing with fire here--best be damn sure.

"I am known for my dexterous hands, Mistress," Kade said, holding desperately to that reserve of confidence.

This part didn't go as great as his little pants-off trick. First, his eyes weren't helping, they were too busy. Second, his one hand had gone rogue, and it stayed glued to Mistress Medja's midriff. Third, Mistress Medja's dress was frustratingly elaborate. Did every guy out there have this much trouble finding the little clasps or hooks that held together women's clothing?

Finally, it turned out that the clasps to the slim top portion of the dress were in the front, not the back as Kade had guessed. Three of them. One at the neck, two just below...j-just below her bosom. A few little clicks and snaps later, and they were loose. That half was almost done. Kade gripped one of the straps which connected the bust to the collar, ready to pull it off.

"It's a beautiful dress, Mistress," Kade said, low and admiring. "I'd hate to just throw it on the floor."

On an impulse, perhaps as a way to smooth over his bout of earlier fumbling...he played with the fire.

And pulled the top free, holding it out to one side with the tip of his forefinger and thumb, and then dropping it with a simple release.

His heart hammered in his chest, but it didn't deter his broad smile. "Now where have my manners gone?"

Medja

 

[Ameris]

Ameris held Fraeya close as they glided on the dancefloor. "You are incredibly beautiful tonight, Fraeya," he told her softly. He was not sure why she was acting so strange tonight. They loved each other and, yet, she was acting like they had never been together...they had never been in love.

He decided to just ask her because he felt that strange compulsion to do so. "Why are you acting so weird, my dear?" Ameris just studied her beautiful face as they danced. Her perfection.

Fraeya

 

[Maphesa]

Maphesa continued in her personal mission, trekking through grassy fields dotted with the occasional tree. As she travelled further, the presence of others grew less frequent. Signs of them hadn’t disappeared. They could still be faintly heard, and scarcely seen far in the distance behind her.

She remained determined in her search for further evidence to the foul play she’d suspected. She’d found three clues so far, with Fritz serving as the first. Her attire was another, and both her hands reached up to her face, grasping the mask by the edges to verify that it was still there. The mirror was the final clue. She’d brought it with her when she left her house, she’d made sure of that. Yet she did not have it now.

Where'd the mirror go? She'd set it down at times, but she'd always remembered to pick it back up. She couldn't have simply forgotten it, not when the thing was such an important clue on her (misguided) quest. That would be absurd. The fact remained that she still didn't have it with her, though.

So where was it!?

Was this more Summer Court trickery?

Probably.

In a huff, Maphesa turned about and began her search for the mirror, retracing the path she had taken.

 

[Medja]

Fortune favors the bold...and so does the Empress. Where Kade was dealing with the tumult of excitement and anxiousness, Medja was having no such crisis. The only questions she was playing through her head were what exactly she was going to do to the boy and wondering how much he'd be able to take before breaking. Several centuries of indulgence had given her a level of practiced dexterity and expertise with these sorts of scenarios that some might've called her performances artistry, had they been privy to it.

Even still, these little trysts had never become boring to the sorceress after all this time. On the contrary, when a worthy lover presented themselves, Medja considered engaging to be one of life's greatest joys. This era in particular had been positively rife with spectacular partners, something Medja had come to appreciate greatly in the few years that had passed since the Empire absorbed Ragash into its borders. The Empress couldn't help but wonder how Kade would stack up, however.

"I am known for my dexterous hands, Mistress,"

Medja cooed in delight. He certainly had the charming small talk down; that much was a wonderful start. Truly it was shocking how many prospective partners could spoil an otherwise wonderful session with dull or maladroit chitchat. In short, Kade could talk the talk...but could he walk the walk?

"I do hope you'll demonstrate for me..." She sighed, maintaining her ever present smirk.

Deft, wandering fingers began to find their way around Medja's dress, nimbly unhooking clasps as they travelled. A good start, and then...

In a wonderfully brazen display, Kade took the first plunge. Medja's top came free, greeting Kade with a bust that could only have been sculpted by the gods, softly bouncing for a moment as though they, too, defied gravity.

"Now where have my manners gone?"

Full lips curved upwards to reveal pearly whites, and hungry, emerald eyes blazed with anticipation and intrigue down at Kade.
"...Naughty boy..." Medja husked before pulling Kade's head to her chest. "What am I to do with you?"

A subtle flick of her fingers would see the ground beneath Kade's feet shift, and in one swift motion he would be brought to a sitting position, his mistress straddling his lap. Comfortably seated, Medja took Kade's face in her hands, her fingers running through his hair. Her eyes drooped low as the space between their faces closed ever tighter, and the Empress graced her subject's lips with the softness of her own.

 

[Fraeya]

Ameris

He knew who she was.

Even with the mask. And her fae disguise. In this strange place.

He knew.

She swallowed. Green eyes lifting to connect with his own. That look he was giving her, like he wanted to devour her. A blade always had two sides and for her a simultaneous thrill of excitement and fear went through her all the way down to the tips of her toes.

"Me?" She countered, her fingers shifting against him slowly. Just to get a better hold. Just so she wouldn't fall in these heels. Why was she wearing heels?!

And this dress.

She never felt more naked in her life.

"You eat mortals for a living," she teased in all seriousness. "Why're you acting so strange? Your majesty." She managed not to forget the formality he was due.

 

[Ameris]

Ameris grew more confused when Fraeya mentioned eating mortals. What the fuck was she on about? Maybe this wasn't his Fraeya. Maybe this weird dream had warped her. Also...your majesty? No...something was off. Something wasn't right.

Ameris continued to dance though. He continued to hold her close to him.

"I have never eaten a mortal before and I am no King, Fraeya. Are you alright?" The concern on his face was genuine and probably an expression he had only worn a handful of times in his life. He was really worried about her right now.

Fraeya Mab

 

[Kade Anvar]

That incredibly magnetic pull which kept his eyes locked squarely onto Mistress Medja's own was now, in their periphery, met with some intense competition. And the battle was a short one, those twin terrors which had kept his eyes so locked losing quite soundly to an interest of a whole other kind.

Kade looked down.

And it was at this particular moment that all pretense of Kade perhaps having any experience in affairs of this nature imploded. He was a young man just old enough to pick up a spear and die in service to the Empire, but the look of boyish awe which overcame him was one shared by many an adolescent before him and would be by many to come. The sight of Mistress Medja's breasts was surreal in a number of ways, and yet the reason which rose above the strangeness of the Fae Dream and her position as Empress Regent was the simple fact that they were, quite simply, those insistently interesting parts of a woman that Kade had never before seen. And these were so divinely beautiful that, unbeknownst to Kade, he might well have just been spoiled on the sight of other busts whose allure, while gorgeous and sensual on their own, could not compare to what he had now seen.

Then his face was pulled right into them.

By...

...the Six.

All his thoughts were obliterated, but that was the wordless sentiment which had overcome Kade. He was never more engaged in the present moment than he was now.

...Naughty boy...

If he had the capacity, he would've agreed.

What am I to do with you?

Following this, there was a change that Kade wouldn't notice until a moment later--the summoned throne of earth upon which he was now sat. And only pure instinct, a simple if vague knowing of what to do, granted him the power to react to Mistress Medja's kiss, though he lacked much of the elegance of his more experienced partner. Still, for his part, returning the kiss was easier than initiating one.

When at last he could breathe again, the first conscious thought in a long while crossed his mind: that he had been tempted mightily to die by suffocation rather than relinquish the embrace of Mistress Medja's lips.

His mind in some measure of working order again, he had to think. And fast. That wellspring of courage beneath all of his nervousness was like a hopeful, glowing ember peeking out from the ash of an extinguished fire. From where it had come (or if it had always been there, waiting for this exact time) he did not know. But he was glad for it.

Kade was served well by it again. He offered a smile up to Mistress Medja, distantly aware that his hands had somehow journeyed to the small of her back. And he said, "My turn now."

His fingers tapped out a quick little tune on the silken skin of her back.

"I lost my pants, you lost your top. My turn again. If I were Emperor Regent for a day, I'd declare that fair and just."

Medja

 

[Samantha Black]

"Is goddamned sssunssshine particularly bright compared to regular sssunssshine?" Veithir hissed a quip and mustering strength seemingly impossible for his frame, clasped Ralene's hand in his own, and easily pulled her to her feet.

What was felt was like digging a well and striking the dirt to expose a water reservoir. Memories from a thousand years ago poured forth, a violent torrent of images flooding into Veithir's mind. The huntsman blinked once and saw a dark forest.

***​

"Oh, Hells, what happened to you!" A woman with braided hair knelt next to a wounded and bloody Veithir, "C'mon... big fucker..." She got down to hook Veithir's arm around her shoulder and, with a grunt, stood with his weight bearing down on her, "Keep it together..."

​

The scenery blurred into the inside of a small cabin. As if it were right there, Veithir caught the aroma of freshly brewed tea.

"You're awake," a gentle voice spoke to him. Veithir turned his head, and at the bedside was the same woman. She sat in a chair with a blanket over her lap. "What's your name? I'm Marian."

...

"Veithir?" She stifled a giggle, "Oh- uh, sorry, it's just that it suits you. Are you an elf, Veithir? I've never seen an elf before..."

​

Again, the world became a blur to Veithir and soon settled to the outskirts of a small village. Before Veithir and Marian were rotting corpses chained to posts, beyond them smoldering ruins, and slung around each of the bodies' necks signs that read: WITCH. HERETIC. TAINTED BLOOD.

Marian tugged Veithir's sleeve, "How awful." And after several seconds of fighting the urge, she finally stormed forward and bashed at where the chains linked to the post with the handle of her hand axe.

...

"What do you mean, Vei?! They deserve a proper burial! Just 'cause of their beliefs, they got treated like this," Marian's cheeks were beet-red, and finally, the metal ring snapped. Veithir blinked and next saw three mounds of dirt. Marian had laid a wreath of flowers on the freshly dug graves. "The lord of these lands is cruel, Vei. Thank you for helping me..."

​

For months after being taken in, Veithir had slept on a bench in Marian's home. Despite it being much too short for him, he never once complained.

"Vei, are you awake?" ... "Will you come here?" ... "You're warm..."

​

Next, seated on a blanket with a canopy of blooming cherry blossoms overhead, Marian and Veithir shared lunch. He noticed as she inched closer and closer but never said a word even as she leaned her cheek against his shoulder. She became cross with him for some reason.

"Oh, you damn fool," She said with a huff and suddenly kissed him. The world spun around him.

After that came the sight of sweat-slicked freckled skin under candlelight and the soft gasps and hoarse breathing in his ear.

"At least you don't have to sleep on that tiny bench anymore," Marian said, tightly latched onto Veithir's arm. Upon hearing him voice his wish to stay with her forever, Marian buried her face into his shoulder with a wide smile, "Of course you can, you fool..."

A memory of some time long after that, where Veithir proposed forging a bond that would carry beyond their current lives.

Forever proved to be a short while. After years of peaceful living, Veithir returned from the woods one evening to find Marian's cabin broken into and his beloved missing. He would find her after catching wind of a nasty rumor, weeks later, in the dungeon of that cruel lord, who had grown old and mad. Veithir stood before the weak and dying Marian, stained nearly head-to-toe in fresh blood.

"Oh, Vei," Marian weakly mumbled to him and mustered a weak smile, "You fool..."

And finally, the final scene played before Veithir. He stared down at Marian's resting place just below the cherry blossom tree, wearing his huntsman attire.

***
​

Viethir gasped as he came to. Years of memories flashing through his mind were only a handful of seconds in the dream. Then, with Ralene's hand in his own, his gaze met hers, and his mouth hung open in mute astonishment.

All that the strange elf had seen lay naked for witness through the connection of their hands to the Dreadlord Initiate. Ralene stood frozen and rooted to the spot, eyes tightly screwed shut against the litany of images burning into her mind. They flew through her thoughts like words read from a familiar book ... like deja vu, like dreams.

Like her own memories.

Breath caught painfully in her chest, Ral ripped her hand out of his own and turned a wild gaze upon him.

"You..." in the next moment that same hand came flying through the air with all the speed and strength of a mallet and connected with his face.

"Who the FUCK do you think you are?! Stay the fuck out of my head!" there was no love to be found in the expression of the young woman, but a righteous burning fury.

 

[Veithir]

With his mind elsewhere, the fist that should have been easily avoided instead caused Veithir to feel the heat and sting of pain in his jaw for the first time in - well, what did it matter? The punch stunned him, causing his vision to blacken, and the púca took an unsure, wobbly step back.

"I do not meddle in the thoughts of others," Veithir said, rubbing his jaw and regaining his legs. It was a fine strike. Well-placed and heavy. Lesser men wouldn't endure such a blow. He prepared himself for another.

"Those visions are free of artifice. They are my memories. Of you, in a life before," he frowned, "I'm sorry that it startled you."

 

[Medja]

Such thoroughly favorable reactions...and the boy was even managing to keep his composure! Perhaps the Empress would have to keep him around as a pet once they returned to the waking world. She was certain that Fieravene would take some degree of joy in tracking him down. The thought made her shiver in anticipation.

"I lost my pants, you lost your top. My turn again. If I were Emperor Regent for a day, I'd declare that fair and just."

Again, Medja's lips quirked upwards. Full of vigor, this one.
"My, cute and brash...what a splendid combination." She smugged down at the young man beneath her, reveling in the feeling of his hands upon her skin. "And a shrewd assessment, at that. Very well..."

One of her hands slipped beneath his shirt while the other played in the air, as though she were plucking at some invisible instrument. The earthen throne reclined, and a multitude of feminine clay hands rose into the air around them. Each began to float towards Kade, now instilled with the will of the Empress.
"Just lie back," She instructed him, the swarm of replica hands plucking away at buttons and pulling at sleeves, removing Kade's shirt playfully and deftly. "And I shall treat you like 'Emperor Regent' for a day."

All the while Medja's true hands played across Kade's stomach and chest, first beneath his shirt, and then in the open air once it had been removed. Soft fingers traced every muscle, every contour, occasionally dipping down to his waist and threatening to move lower. Once again she leaned down, this time to press her bare chest against Kade's own...only then, she hesitated, locking those burning emeralds onto the young man's eyes, just inches apart.

"Though if we are moving in turns, I suppose this makes it your play again. What will you do now, I wonder?" She asked him, her tone low and sultry.

 

[Samantha Black]

"The FUCK it is!" Ralene snarled at him, swinging at the strange elf again and watching him easily backpedal out of range. She didn't give chase or step in after him, wanting distance instead of proximity. An angry and wildly spooked expression had claimed her face and posture, balled fists returning unsteadily to her side as she stepped back and away from him as well, head shaking.

"That's not me," a deep frown, she shook her head again, "this isn't real. This is some fucked up dream and I don't care who or what planted it in my head but I'm waking the hell up from it."

She planted her bare feet on flat ground and lifted her hands to press one fist into the palm of the other. Ancient words of power began spilling from her lips as she sought to activate the runic tattoo hidden away in her hair at the base of her skull - the one she employed to ward her mind against invasion and cleanse it of trickery and influence.

 

[Veithir]

Veithir watched on, sparing no effort to stop the young woman. The Hound solemnly nodded.

"Very well," he said as Ralene's form faded, "Until we meet again."

With the incantation left uninterrupted, the girl was freed of the dream moments after. Veithir stared at the space she'd just been, where the grass had been flattened under her feet and then turned to face the cherry blossom tree. The púca turned his gaze to the fake stars, folded his hands behind his back, and waited for the dream to end.

 

[Kade Anvar]

Keep it going.

Kade had no idea how he was still in this, how his beating heart hadn't managed to fumble his words, but here he was, holding his own. Didn't mean he wouldn't have a catastrophic trip and fall somewhere down the line--by the Six, he hoped he didn't. Trusting in that glimmer from the wellspring of courage had gotten him this far. He just had to keep it going.

And, uh, well...that was becoming increasingly more difficult.

First off, the Empress herself just called him cute. Man, that just...whew, that just felt different coming from her. And brash, he'd take that as a cherry on top.

Second, the summoned throne (was it too cheeky to start calling it his throne yet?) reclined and he was lying down. A host of hands lived up to Mistress Medja's declaration of treating him like Emperor Regent for a day. Fairness and justice were upheld, and off went his vest and shirt combination. Kade wouldn't have thought it'd be like this, but somehow it was getting warmer and warmer the less and less clothes he was wearing.

And third, the most captivating part of all, Mistress Medja lay down on top of him. Their bare chests were touching, the feel of Medja's exquisitely different from his own and, as he found out the moment it happened, most welcome. The silken softness was wonderful, and there was a certain weight pressing lightly down on him, these just setting his blood on fire with anticipation and desire. Vaguely, he wondered if she could feel his pounding heart.

Your play again.

Keep it going. Trust in that glimmer.

His hands slowly slid down the small of Mistress Medja's back, and went exploring along the generous curves found along her hips.

"Once I find the key to this lock..."

His fingers (yes, while enjoying themselves) were also searching. Searching along the back of the bottom half of Medja's dress, the waistband, the sides, underneath the flowing layers. Something was holding it place, and an unclasping or untying was all that was needed.

"...I might just pull off the greatest heist the Empire has ever seen."

A little flash of a grin both joking and devious.

And then, his abdominal muscles tensing, Kade sat up just enough to kiss Mistress Medja once more, this time with a detectable touch of urgent fierceness that, his nervousness be damned, he just couldn't hold back.

Medja

 

[Kade Anvar]

Just as his hands went searching.

Just as he thought he might have found what he was looking for, the clasps which held the dress in place.

Just as what could only have been the height of fantasy, the dream to reign supreme above all the rest in his life, seemed to be within reach.

It turned out to be exactly that.

A fantasy. A dream.

There came a strange sensation of falling, or perhaps being yanked, somewhere in the back of Kade's head. His last sight of Queen Mab's fantastical Fae Dream were the eyes of Mistress Medja. He disappeared from the Dream, and awoke with the abject feeling of woe over a cruel twist of fate, of being so close to something wonderful only to fall just short of grasping it.

Mayhap, for many days to come, Kade would ponder over whether or not the whole affair had been real. It felt that way. By the Six and sure as the desert sands were hot, it felt that way--the throbbing pain in his nethers upon waking in mundane Arethil could attest. But was it? How could it have been? There was no way, none of it made any sense. And wasn't that a kind of hallmark for a dream? But it felt so real.

And so the debate would go for him, robbing him of countless hours of sleep in the days to come. Ironically, perhaps, given the thought that, if he did manage to find sleep, maybe he could of found his way back to where he had been. Or so his longing notion went.

For now, certain facets of intimacy would remain a mystery for him.

Medja