Cry.

[Quiarinox]

Winter 56th, 512 AV "Do you still love me?" Quiarinox rest against Meriken's legs as his hands ran through the harsh red of her hair. White fingers combed the tangles from the dark mass, working through curls with the delicacy expected of a man used to fawning over his clients. The low sound of his voice, so clear and light but also sad and clouded, pulled at her heart. She swallowed. Her throat was dry. His hands slowed their caressing and eventually were still on her shoulders, hair left alone. When they touched her naked skin, she jumped at how cold and clammy they were, as though he had taken a swim and not properly dried, or even if he had just been sweating profusely a chime ago. The sensation gave her a shudder. "Yes, I do." She said eventually. "I always will." She could feel his smile, so acute she was at identifying his emotions even without looking at his face or hearing his voice. She smiled herself in turn, in sympathy. The relationship had always been one of careful action and reaction between them. He hurt, she hurt. He laughed, she laughed. She missed it. "How much do you love me?" His voice had lowered, become shy and unsure of himself. He hadn't taken the tone often during their relationship. Her brow creased as she tried to realise the reason for the tone. Her fingers clenched on the rug, threading between the fabric as she considered. He seemed content to wait. They had an eternity here to be together. Their room, the messily stylish bed they had slept in, the birds that nested in their eaves singing gaily, it was all very pleasant. This was home. She could smell him here, could feel the warmth of safety and acceptance, both of which were hard to find in this world. It was hard to be human and not human at the same time. It was hard to convince people she had a soul, too, and wasn't some pathetic animal. But Meriken, he was always accepting and gentle. He sympathized with her. "I love you too much to put a limit on my feelings," she said eventually, stumbling over the words as she formed them. Did she even know how much she loved him? Hai hands tightened on her shoulders and the cold grew more biting. Uncomfortable. The sting felt like the burning sensation of fire and she tried to jerk away from him in response. "Are you sure about that?" He said. The tone was colder and something unpleasant made her heart tighten in fear. The birds stopped singing. It began to rain outside, something she both loved and loathed utterly. Rain made her feel lonely. "You put the knife in my back. You betrayed my trust... You sold me to the Ebonstryfe." He began to soothe her cold-burnt skin with caresses that warmed her back up again. The warmth was not comfort though. It felt like he had flayed her nerves open and doused them in painful poison before sealing them shut tight. The tenderness in it stole her breath, though, and made her cringe in guilt. "Look at me, Rina." He murmured. His voice became hoarse as the words passed his lips. She felt sympathy well up within her again and a need to not look at all costs. She didn't know what she would see. She didn't want to see it. But she looked anyway, driven by something she couldn't control, getting to her knees, lowering her eyes, and turning to face him. Her eyes lifted to his face and her heart plummeted in his chest. Around them, the room folded and turned to ash, blossoming into something else, but all she noted was his face and the horrible changes that time had wrought upon it. Gone was his beauty. Stripped away and drowned, as he had been. Brown eyes, once so warm and inviting, ringed by bloodshot red. His white skin tinged blue and bruised by black and purple. His hair was matted and his ears and nose seemed to have been nibbled on, by fish or by rat. When he smiled, she saw what he had once had echoed beneath the horror, and it choked her. There was love there, smothered beneath depthless hatred and longing. His hand lifted to run along her cheek, moist and cold again. She felt like she would be sick and turned away. The knife pricked her ribs. "I never forget to repay my debts." The scratchy tone of his voice echoed in her ears, brittle and harsh. She couldn't even feel the pain. The folding room settled again onto a ball, filled with lavish food that was not food and people that we're only puppets. For a moment, she felt a great sadness in her chest as her heart sank and she recognised the scene. A brief moment, one where she touched waking more than any other, and then it was gone, replaced by dream terror and helpless love for something she hated so profoundly. "Cry, for me," Meriken whispered, drawing her close until his mouth touched the shell of her ear. And then she was upright, as if nothing had even happened, knife in her hand and smiling pleasantly at the lack of personality around her. Meriken strode away with a cheerful laugh and quick promise to hurry back, making for the terrace where five people had converged already. The girl next to Quiarinox, someone she remembered from the streets, handed her a cake to be cut and whispered words of congratulations in a toneless voice that worried her. She laughed at herself though, shrugged, and cut the cake. Not a worry in the world. In dreams of love and hate, she forgot her concern and lived in the moment, acting out her part as planned by the chavi that directed her actions, built by her memories and regrets.

[Aradia]

Plummeting down in the depths of blackness, swirling blackness all around her, no oxygen, she could not breathe, only continue her descent, falling helplessly falling. Aradia opened her mouth to let out a scream of terror, but no sound came out. She was gasping, gasping for breath, but no air would enter her lungs. Silently tears were forced out of her tear ducts, as she continued her slow fall to the unknown, entering further in the belly of the darkness. It was like a shroud that enveloped her, squeezing out her soul, her life.

Then the dream changed, making Aradia gasp. She was at a party, some kind of weird party. The individuals drifted along, laughing fake their fake laughs of merriment. Portraying a façade of elegance and intellectual demeanor. She felt like she was drowning in a crowd of people, forcing herself through the lifeless bodies, trying to make her way to something, something she did not know. No scents tantalized her nose, this place was odorless. The voices of the people around her sounded dull and fading, the atmosphere a blur and swirl of bodies. She finally pushed herself out of the crowd, and they opened up to a woman cutting a cake. She had a dark mane of hair, and seemed full of life.

Aradia rubbed her eyes, looking again. This woman was not lifeless like the others, but still seemed to be portraying a façade for their enjoyment. Her body language spoke of a nervous demeanor, as she slowly cut the cake with a knife. Aradia walked up and looked at her closer. It seemed like no one here noticed the bright red headed woman anyways, she was like a ghost, weaving her way through soulless individuals. Aradia reached out her cold pale hand, touching the woman’s arm lightly. Wondering if she would feel her touch, or be like the other fake individuals that crowded this party.

Her eyes stayed locked on the woman, she kept her hand lingering on her arm, squeezing her tender flesh a bit, not too hard just enough to make her notice Aradia’s presence. Would she notice? Is she different from all the rest? Where was she? Her heart race sped up, making a pounding rhythm against her chest as her anxiety rose. She did not know if she was in a dream or a nightmare, but the Chavi worked in mysterious ways once you gave yourself up to it, to drift among the weaving webs of dreams.

OOCSorry it is so much shorter than yours, but I hope it has a fine quality about it to you. I love what you wrote though, it was beautifully written! If I made a mistake or did something wrong just PM me and let me know and I will change it. I haven't wrote a dream thread before, so I hope I did decent on my first attempt >< lol.

[Quiarinox]

She stiffened at the hand that grasped her arm, the touch so different from his, yet so similar for the chill it left in her bones. She shivered and turned, gripping the knife with white fingers, and smiling a pained smile that belied her quick wrath. The woman had red hair, just as she did. Nobody else had red hair here, so that held fast the plummet of her blade. She looked... different, too. Not a façade. Alive. Real. Unusual. Quiarinox narrowed her eyes and turned back to the woman that had presented the cake, handing over the knife so she may continue to cut it herself, and murmuring something about a problem and going to oversee it's correction. The woman laughed, merrily. The sound grated upon her ears. She laughed as well, shrugged, grabbed the red-head's arm, and dragged her away before she did something uncouth and foolish. "You shouldn't be here," she whispered hurriedly. "They'll notice you are different. He'll come back." She didn't need to mask her fear if he did return. He wouldn't take long, he had promised her. "You have to leave before he finds you here." She didn't offer much in the way of answers or reasoning. Her lips were whitened by her own fear, although inside her fear was tempered by her unabiding love for him. She loved and hated in equal measures when it came to him. "Come on," she muttered, curling her fingers tighter around the mystery woman's limb and nearly dragging her away to the staircase. The doors were locked, she didn't have the key for them. However, she could hide the woman away in a room and return to the party. As long as he didn't come back. She heard faintly the sound of his voice as they climbed the stairs, she nearly running. If the woman stumbled, she would pull her back up and continue. Before he saw them, the woman had to hide.