Open Pale Imitations

[Ennisa]

4th Autumn 519 AV
"speech"

Caw. Caw. C a w. A crow pecked her forehead. CAW. Ennisa stared into its shiny eyes as it stared straight back into her. The world was barely formed. Wherever the young woman turned her head, scenery seemed to tumble into place. Trees sprouted in convoluted, twisted patterns, their black barky twigs scratching at the sky. Animals and insects crept into their places. The sky sloshed to join in, as clouds were dragged across the sketchy darkness by the very act of Ennisa's roaming eyeballs.

The woman in question felt decidedly queasy. As was so often the case in a dream, she didn't really realise that she was dreaming. The world was simply as it was, even if it was completely ridiculous. The fact that a crow kept pecking her forehead like an acorn didn't move her. The creeping, shaking landscape didn't bother her unduly. The nagging feeling that she was forgetting something bothered her though.

Ennisa walked, the crow accompanying her as she went. Caw. What had she lost? Or, rather, what was she missing? She searched the landscape, traversing mountains and fields and plains with the ease of a breeze, but the thing she was searching for seemed to be hiding in plain sight. With growing frustration, she tried to shout, but found that her voice was nothing but a harsh whisper.

"Petch." Maybe the dream was less dream and more nightmare. She probably would not know until she woke up. That wouldn't happen for a while yet.

In the distance, behind a thicket of trembling, ashy bushes, a figure stood. Ennisa felt a certain rush of giddiness, and knew for absolute certain that this was what she needed to find. This person, stood in the distance. She began to run. All around her, sticky, gulping mudflats opened up, dragging her down. The mud reached all around, except they seemed to stretch out into a strip of quasi-land, which had at the end of it the clump of waist-height bushes and the figure that she still couldn't quite see properly. She strived forwards, her hands reaching forwards, forwards, hoping to reach this important stranger.

Grey mud clumped around her ankles, then her knees until the panicked desperation felt like some clawed creature mutilating her chest cavity. The mud was all-powerful, all-devouring, and it seemed like nothing could save her. Except the stranger.

"Help!", she cried. "Please!" Her voice floated in the air of that strange world. She could only hope that her words reached someone before it was too late. The mud gurgled and smacked; they were disgusting sounds that Ennisa fought to escape with all her strength. "Help."

[Fabell]

You feel your toes. Conticent, hushed, mesmerized, mired in mud. The air, chill. The sky, gray. Nubile shrubs grip your legs, wrapped around your daunchish form. Your discover your arms (covered in a metallic lyard glint, like blades unsheathed) held aloft by transclucent figures, whose only form reflects when the distant and muddy clouds reveal a shred of dreamsun from behind their heavy and obtund shapes - and you rampage against them, twisting and turning but only falling deeper into the dimmed carse. You hear the squelching of moistened dirt as it wraps around your ankles, and the screaming in your mind, far from being ataracticly serene, screams and quakes against this horror. The piercing call of crows scrambles your senses, and the woods seem to nicker and snicker at you, closing in, their illusive shapes like a gaggle of looming monsters slowly slopping toward your weakened form. Suddenly the ground gives way, the forms disentangle, and you buckle out of the mud. What happened? Nonsense to even consider. The unknown sights and sounds feel alien to you; a boy from the desert, who only knows scorpions, eagles, and a world that reinvents itself each day - these shock you, and for a moment (just a brief moment) you know you are swimming in another's dreamworld. Past the shrubs, there lay an infinity of mudflats, but each second you pause to stare (while breathing heavily from the exertion of pulling yourself out) , the mudflats expand, and then the mudworld breaks past the horizon, shooting upward into the sky, as if you stood on the inner ring of a world of mud, rotating around a star of grey clouds. The crows go crazy, flocking into rings, an orchestra of black wings and madcap feathers transforming into a darkened hurricane. Before you realize, your bare feet slap the mud, your legs pump across the swamp, and you see a figure in the distance, struggling, reaching up, drowning in leather-colored goup. You don't even consider the implications. You rush forward even faster, and on the shores of the mudflat where the person lay squirming and crying, you leap. You find your target. As the world attraps in the sickly sweet color of nightmares, you grip her shoulders, and using the velocity of your leap, push deep into the mud, until the ground itself coughs the both of you out, the mud flaying outward in a spray, and you both are flushed out of the mudworld into empty sky, careening through a world of crystalline clouds, floating islands in the sky, and you realize you now found refuge in your dreams. A smile comes to your face, because you know this place well. With a struggle and a sigh, you unfurl your white wings, and cradle the figure in your arms, lighting down upon a glade of fresh flowers and bespeckled stones. You take a deep breath in, feeling the swirl of chill air enter your lungs, waiting for Him to come to you. Whether a dream or reality, he always comes. The grass settles and shades your cheeks, you close your eyes, hear the tinkle of waves from the nearby pond, the rush and cheeky humor of the wind as it slips by the crystal temple nearby, and wait for the Music Man to find his way to you. With one open eye to the sky, you see the wound close up, the mudworld a distant memory. You cannot be sure though, but you feel safe once again.

[Ennisa]

"speech"
"others"

Ennisa had almost succumbed when the man arrived, against all hope. The breathless, gulping mud still clung tight, but the man wasn't even attempting to pull her out. She felt like screaming, fighting, as he pushed deeper into the pervasive filth, his body otter-like as he carried her and him both down down down down down...

The passage through the mud world's cloying interior felt like death but worse. For the stranger it might have felt smooth and easy, even, but Ennisa's experience was broken by the vile feeling of mud invading every patch of bare skin, the touch of cold, clinging, strangely silky mud pressing against her wide, staring eyes. Even if it took just a tick, by the time they arrived at the positively heavenly place, Ennisa's anxiety and terror manifested into the unfightable desire to run.

Yet, how could she run, when she was in the sky? Clouds raced by, each one different, Ennisa noticed. She wanted to break free, but she could not do this, and could only lie in the stranger's embrace, feeling helpless. Various islands floated past like balloons, too many to comprehend. Finally, they alighted on one such place, laden with blossoms and dainty flowers waving in the pleasant breeze.

She stopped wanting to run.

Here was... different. It was undoubtedly different. Ennisa knew it deep in her core that she was no longer in her lands, but elsewhere. It was alien, but surprisingly nice. She could enjoy it here, she thought. She turned to look at the man, but couldn't really understand his appearance, though he may have looked perfectly normal. When she saw him, and remembered his face later, all she could fathom was that he had white wings that cast violet shadows on the glade, and that his eyes were lovely.

She rolled onto her knees so that she was supplicant, and dug her fingers into the ground. The soil felt of nothing in particular, maybe of sand if she was to picture it as anything. The grass also felt unreal, almost cloth-like, and faintly warm. Somewhere in the distance, past the current landscape, she could feel a tugging, but she ignored it for now.

When she spoke, she was pleased to hear her voice was back to normal, even if her tone was strangely colourless. "This isn't my place." She looked down at her body and noted in a detached sense that she was almost pale enough to be considered transparent. Though that fact should be quite alarming, she was pleased that when she patted her own shoulder, she could still feel warm flesh.

"Where are we?" And what are we waiting for?, she thought. The world drifted through the baby-blue sky and began to subtly tilt downwards in Ennisa's direction, as if her see-through body was heavy, but she didn't notice and continued to root her hands within the not-earth earth. "What are you waiting for?"

[Rohka]

OOCSuch lateness and weirdness and spontaneity in this one... I'm cool with going out of order too! Post as much as you like, and I'll jump in again whenever I can Thanks for inviting me!

Awakening on an island of blossoms, she groggily rubbed her eyes. She walked forward, her fingers reaching down to trail through the tips of the tall green glades and soft petals of stark red, their colours transferring onto her skin without her knowing. The air grew more humid as she walked, her comfort becoming less manageable, and all she wanted to do was feel more of the grass and the petals on her skin.

With one fell swoop, she slipped off her dress.

The clothing disappeared and she now felt unburdened, free, the warmth of the air now sticking to her skin in a welcome veil of moisture. She found herself being covered in more of the colour, the reds and greens painting over her skin as she walked, beginning to feel the damp earth under her bare feet and a fresh, cooling breeze sending strands of dark chestnut hair over and around her vision.

Soon, a mirage of life appeared before her, getting clearer as she approached. There were wings, beautiful white wings on a figure amongst flowers and stones. A calling, a whisper, helped her look up to see a dark, muddy wound in the sky of baby blue. The sky was hurt. Were the figures hurt?

She approached them, a song beginning to play in her head that she then began to sing aloud:

The land of blue and coloured hues
Sits across from you and a trying ruse
Tweedle Deese, Dweedle Twos
My oh my, do the trees call for cues?

Yes they do! Yes they do!
Come to the land of my Tweedle Dweedle Blues
If you stop, if you think, if you so choose
You too could become the Tree of We Do Lose!

It was ridiculous, the meaning lost on the young woman who stopped short of another being who was far closer to the ground. She asked a question…

“Music,” said her own voice, speaking as if she knew entirely what she was speaking about. “You’re waiting for music. Do you feel it?”

She crouched down and sat, her legs crossing underneath herself, feeling the cooling fabric of this reality against the softness of her skin. Breathing in the air for a tick and breathing out brought her a bubbling vitality that she knew she needed to express.

“I’m so glad we’re here,” she said, sighing. “You’re both so beautiful, do you know that?” A part of her mind found herself laughing internally, as if this was all some practical yet very necessary joke to her spirit’s record of life. She continued onwards, remembering some part of her identity now.

“Perhaps one of you can help me find someone I’ve lost in the music. Her name is Adela,” she said, looking up at both figures.

The clouds above began to darken, save for a streaming circle of daylight above the trio. A solitary plant started to sprout not far from them, growing and thickening, branches quickly reaching upwards, forming bark and buds, faster and faster. What was it?

WC = 506

[Ennisa]

"speech"
"others"

Music. Yes, music. Ennisa looked up, searching for the woman who spoke, but the voice was lost in a myriad of colours and shifting patterns. It was as if the woman was made of flowers, yet was behind the flowers, and was also one with the flowers. Ennisa's mind boggled as she struggled to comprehend the vision before her. No matter how hard she tried to listen to the music that the woman sang, her mind tripped over the visual trick being played upon it, and the words of the nonsensical song drifted past, without Ennisa realising.

The flowery figure spoke, but this time, there was a question on her cherry blossom lips. During this time, as the sky drew in, Ennisa had remained silently digging her hands into the floury soil. When she heard the melodious voice, she stopped. The world tilted again, enough that Ennisa felt something slipping.

The question came at her like an accusation, despite having no hints of it being phrased in such a way. Ennisa, in her dreamland, was a woman of fear and anxiety, so she did her best to field the question. "No. No no! I don't know Adela!" She beseeched the flowery woman, whose features she was just beginning to pick out. A quaint nose, two strong, deep brown eyes. An age went by as she considered what to do next. Petals drifted from the world they inhabited as a flurry of arctic wind jolted them all, but one lonesome plant braved the cold and strived for the sky. As her gaze tilted to this tenacious plant, Ennisa knew exactly where flower-woman could find Adela. "Up. Up there!"

She pointed, and her finger trembled. She was gradually becoming thinner, paler, as if her reality was bleeding away, or as if her body was being drained of both heat and substance by the icy breeze. Not only that, but she was slipping through the ground as if it wasn't there. "I can't help you find Adela, but he can!" Her voice sounded pitiful to her ears. She flung her arm at the flying man as she began to sink. Whether he helped her or not, from Ennisa's viewpoint, Adela could only be in one place, and that was up the rapidly ascending tree.

She would not be able to follow them. With one final, sad gasp, she slipped through the floating world and began to spiral through the air. Ennisa knew she was not flying, not truly, but she was airborne like a stray feather. The sky, having already almost fully clouded over, was damp and wet with moisture and oncoming snow. She drifted higher. Her form, which was see-through now, began to accumulate cloud until she was stuffed full. Her heart felt cold, colder than ice, but her mind was detached from all feeling. Nothing hurt, except her mind, which jumbled as she floated free-form through the freezing air.

It seemed as if she was drifting upwards faster than she realised she could. Vast flocks of tiny birds flew around her. Their wings were sharp as razors, and as they flew by, her body was cut numerous times. Abruptly, her hand reached out and snatched two of the birds, and she was pulled along in their wake.

They breached the tops of the clouds, and looked out across a vast plain of rolling cloud-tops. For the most part, Ennisa could see nothing but puffy white clouds. The sky above was pitch-dark and dotted with crystalline stars. Occasionally, she spotted small outcroppings peeking through the cloud tops, whether these were mountains, or trees, or goodness knows what else.

Ennisa cared only about the tiny room she was approaching. It was nestled within the puffy folds of the clouds. Inside were two people that she didn't recognise. They lounged on elaborate velvet chairs. The windows were draped with lush violet curtains, and the floor was carpeted with deep, shaggy fur of some unknown creature. Ennisa alighted, but her attention was drawn to one corner where, ignored, a trapdoor was beginning to open. Ennisa needed to distract the two strangers' attention from the trapdoor, otherwise Adela would be lost forever. She lunged forwards and swung at the two strangers, who looked up with genuine alarm. One of them called out in a foreign tongue, "Sashoth, Omany! Geu fay tier!" The man's voice was harmonious and sweet, like syrup, but deeply insidious. From the distance, two deep, booming voices replied, echoing and rolling like thunder across the cloud-tops. The clouds shuddered as the creatures approached. Whatever had been summoned, she needed to leave as soon as possible.

WC : 772

[Rohka]

Up there?

Rohka turned to look at what the young woman was pointing to, seeing the translucent pale arm shimmering in the air. There had been a slight frown on the sybil’s face when the woman with such light hair framing her tender skin began to drown. But the woman was right, Adela could certainly be higher then where she was right now. The woman, in her brief and kind suggestion, seemed to disappear entirely, and Rohka was left to listen closer to the shifting world.

She heard the rustling of new leaves, freshly budded and drinking in the sunlight through its surfaces while the chirping of imaginary swallows sang in harmony with the wind. A bell in the distance rang a heavy tone. Gong. Gong. Gong.

All at once, the scene changed. Dressed in military attire, Rohka stood looking into her distorted reflection within the puddle at her feet. The rain was pouring so hard that it was difficult to pick up the details of a young man, drenched and afraid. Things felt so strange now, knowing she was still herself in another body. Lacquered leather and an iron helmet sat atop a round face with a small chin. Instinct went up to smooth down a barely-there moustache.

“Ren, get inside,” said a deep voice behind him. Rohka obeyed and began to walk towards the direction of a tall shelter, feeling the weight of a heavy pack on her body’s shoulders. Her thoughts began to blend with that of the young man, and she began to see herself as Ren, a sentinel amongst a time of war.

Inside, they were welcomed by a couple. The man and woman bowed, offering their help to remove and replace wet clothing as well as setting down several bags and crates that were now being organized inside what looked to be a well made home. The floors covered in furs, furniture carved with florals. There was an eagerness and a chill in the air, despite the warmth of a burning fireplace to help the others dry off. There were a few other young men with them, and an older gentlemen holding the hand of a young girl.

The girl’s features were vastly different from the rest of the people within the home. She had golden hair and a pale face with eyes that were sunken in, barely blue in its dulness. She, too, bowed with the others in acknowledging the hospitality. In her other hand she gripped a carved boat, her fingers gently grazing the sides as she looked around what would be their shelter during the storm.

“Lord, it’s done,” said the gentlemen holding the girl’s hand. “There are others bringing more women and children captured to serve you. I figure this one would be most useful to your immediate needs,” he said with a sly grin.

The man he addressed was clothed in fine robes, in a manner that was both regal and rough. His thick, wiry beard of salt and pepper made him look older than he truly was. He nodded, letting his cold gaze begin to assess the young girl, then gestured towards the woman beside him to take her away.

“She is from the Veleer bloodline, my Lord. Use her wisely.”

The Lord of the land nodded once more and allowed his servants to direct the group towards their quarters. It was time to get some rest.

Gong. Gong. Gong.

“Sashoth, Omany! Geu far tier!”

Things were murky now, as if Rohka was seeing through a dark and moist cloud of deep water. But she could feel her body waking up from the noise as Ren, and he ran towards the Lord’s room, as others did the same. There was a smell, an utterly foul stench wafting out from within. Ren stepped back, made room, and burst through the barred door, revealing what looked to be two dire vultures with bone-plates over their skulls approaching quickly through the sky above the balcony of this tiny room, the booming cries of the creatures now echoing across the clouds.

Their target, in the eyes of Ren, seemed ethereal, almost like a ghost. The sentinel gave directions to call for a spiritist as the mind of Rohka watched the young woman she met amongst the flowers moving towards the Lord and his mistress, when suddenly, another movement in the corner of the room called for attention within the vision.

The trapdoor. Both Ren and Roh caught a glimpse of the golden hair before it shut.

“Stop right there,” said the sentinel, drawing his sword. “Before anyone gets hurt. Who are you?”

[Ennisa]

"speech"
"others"

Ennisa was beginning to solidify as she settled into the dreamscape. The room which on her first arrival had seemed so small, had expanded and grown detail. It had populated with more people too, a soldierly type, and a few anxious servants who had braved the foul stench (and the displeasure of their master) to come and see what the disturbance was. A young man dripped water onto the carpet and Ennisa could see within his pasty features the intelligent gaze of the flowery woman. Somehow, she was here, in another person's body. She had no time to dwell; the lord's creatures were coming closer, and they foretold doom. Her eyes darted upwards to track their laborious journey through the storm clouds, back down to the trapdoor, where the blonde girl was rapidly disappearing.

Ennisa was pleased, but she had to create a distraction to allow the young girl to escape from this fresh hell. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that despite the beauty of the room, the lord and lady, who were awaiting the arrival of their beasts, were a mockery of regality and would have only caused her harm. The lord's wiry beard, and the lady's soft face spoke of finery, wealth... and decay. The acrid smell permeating the room reinforced that. The blonde girl was safest away, down through the tunnels.

She was coming into being a little more corporally now, but she was not quite as herself as she'd thought. She looked down and saw that she was in fact a ghost, dressed in torn, bloodstained satins. Her hair was long and dark and curly, matted with goodness knows what. When the flower-woman hidden within the sentinel approached and questioned her, she wanted to ask how she was here, but instead she flew off the handle, "You all bloody know who I am, you ungrateful petchers!!" She screamed. Her voice was raw and uncouth. "I brought you here, I gave you shelter, I made this place, and you all killed me for it!"

The lord stared her down with stone-cold eyes. He knew the vultures would come, and the beasts obeyed his every command, but his wife with her soft round face and elegant gown stared with horror and recognition at the screaming apparition. "Make it stop!" She implored her husband. "Please, she is... she was my sister."

The lord, who had yet to say much apart from his incantation, smiled a wicked smile at his lady wife. "My sweet, you have nothing to fear. Sashoth and Omanay have arrived. Look." The gathered crowd did so. The stink had grown deeper, more wretched and permeating. The ghoul shuddered with alarm and screeched piercingly. Ennisa said through someone else's mouth, "Ohhhh, your cruelty knows no bounds, Lord!" Ennisa suddenly vividly remembered being torn to pieces by Sashoth. The creature's sharp beak tearing into her flesh...

Still, the vultures could do little to her or this woman's ghostly body now. Ennisa, emboldened, rushed forwards and thrust herself towards the ghost's little sister, the lady. With a squeal, she wriggled into her and possessed her. This had a curious and unforeseen side effect. Ennisa's conscious, dislodged by the forceful entry of one soul into another, fell out entirely and drifted like a petal into... into the centre of the floor, and then she stood up. She was herself again.

Petch.

More confusion. A few servants tugged the possessed lady away, kicking and screaming as the ghost made her claw angrily at her own sister's face. Ennisa ran up to the soldier, to Ren, and slapped him hard across the face. "Flower lady! We need to help Adela!" The lord opened the glass doors and one of the gigantic vultures screamed into the room, its maw opening in a horrendous chasm, whilst the lord stood triumphantly dwarfed by his precious creatures. Ennisa and Ren had two choices; either stay and fight the lord and his nightmarish beasts, or run down the tunnels, into the belly of the rain-drenched township that lay below this cloud-soaked dream land, to find Adela. Somehow she sensed they would either do this together, or not at all.

[Rohka]

The hard slap stung, ringing, sending a shiver through the soldier’s being that ran from the cheek all the way down the spine and towards the pelvic floor. The room’s vividness split into a murky cloud as Rohka found herself recognizing the voice that called out to her.

Yes, Adela. Veleer blood. I lost her.

The thought response paired with the effects of the slap split the feelings in the body into separate entities: one felt uncontrolled rage, like that of a spark bursting into flames, while the other felt a harnessed determination, like an arrow flying through the air, towards it’s predetermined target.

Ren was the fire. Rohka, the arrow.

In a flash, the sentinel wielded his weapon, raising it against the beastly creatures. The very action sent Rohka’s heart beating faster, and a part of her began to stir into consciousness.

No, must continue. Must find Adela.

There was no way to control the events of the dream. There were days when Rohka wondered what exactly dreams were meant for. Why did they matter, if they even mattered at all? It was something she’d meant to ask Lelia but never did. And yet, this particular night, a part of her knew the question would arise in time.

Just then, the memory of Adela’s beauty and grace surfaced into her dream mind as she parted from Ren, joining the woman who’d slapped her.

She gave her a hug. All of Rohka wanted to melt into the pale woman who’d broken her haze, her internal desire, her clawing, nagging, ferocious wish to find the cause of tonight’s particularly feverish nightmare.

“Thank you,” whispered Rohka, into the pale woman’s ear. Around them, there were screams, some from the possessed sister, some from the creatures, and then a blood curdling one from Ren himself. The familiar voice caught Roh’s attention, sending her head turning in his direction. He was hurt, badly now. He’d struggled to fight, but he was losing.

If you stop, if you think, if you so choose
You too could become the Tree of We Do Lose!

“Let’s go,” said Rohka, heading for the same trapdoor that the young girl ran through earlier.

If the pale woman followed her, they would enter into a vast emptiness. Dark, almost pitch black, save for a gentle light in the distance. Rohka began to walk towards the light, slowly, gingerly. She then started to jog. It was like she needed to get there fast enough before the light died, or before the darkness consumed them. A deep, almost envious sadness, and an even more solemn form of grief began to grip her… but the light pulled her forwards.

“There’s hope there,” she said, panting. “And…”

Suddenly, the sound of a single violin began to play. Low notes, long and echoing. It wasn’t all that familiar, but it urged her. A second violin joined in, harmonizing, the tune gaining momentum, the notes almost yearning for attention. The two violins seemed to dance with each other, urgently, freely, before a screeching sound shook the space. A third instrument, one that the sybil couldn’t quite identify, began a solo. Rohka listened as she jogged and turned to the woman who’d been her guide since the very beginning.

“What is that? That music, I can’t understand it. She’s in this one though, I know it. I need to find her. She’s the only way… The only way to…” her voiced trailed off, her dreaming eyes beginning to tear up, and her waking eyes also welling with the salt water of imaginary worries. If the pale woman looked into Rohka’s gaze, she would see panic and despair, the hope beginning to drain away as the discordant sound almost drummed in their ears.

[Ennisa]

"speech"
"others"

Ren, the soldier, faltered on the cusp of breaking. Ennisa stood resolutely as the room descended into a maddening chaos, and finally the woman in Ren's eyes broke free. The flowers were mostly gone now, she was just herself, with only a few petals falling down to the floor, to be trampled into the rouge carpet. She was enveloped in a hug, and she freely embraced her in return, more open and accepting in the dream than she ever was in real life. Ennisa knew they were friends; that was all that mattered. Her friend, as yet unnamed, began to move towards the trapdoor.

Ennisa followed her. It was the only logical conclusion in this illogical world. The two slipped down into the tunnels and the trapdoor shut above them. The crazy room, with its crashing noises and rending screams, was gone. In its stead, the tunnel immediately stretched ahead into a huge black cavern. The strange woman was a few steps ahead, her feet patting down on the oily black floor quickly as she sought the only speck of light within the place. Ennisa followed with haste. She wanted to talk, to ask her something, but the words weren't coming. The darkness was reverent with silence.

It seemed to happen gradually. Then the strained sounds of violins, their strings vibrating with sullen richness, were permeating the air. Ennisa was overjoyed to hear their sound. Her friend, the dark-haired woman, sped up her pace. When the third instrument joined, her footsteps faltered. The spot of light danced like a lantern swaying on a string. She caught up with her companion. The question shimmered in the air. Despite the dim, murky light, Ennisa could see the tears speckled on her cheeks. A low feeling of sympathy warmed her belly. She didn't know the answers; no-one did. She could only try to answer.

"It is the sound of hope falling away. The sound of failure." The instrument was joined by another, thinner sound, like a tuneful mosquito. Sadly, Ennisa took her friend's hand. A bass drum, its skin far too slack, beat from all around them. The pure light in the distance bobbed up higher, and seemed to float further away. The room or cavern, whichever it was, grew colder, larger, more massive. Failure indeed.

"We've failed, this time at least. Adela... We can't help her. We were too slow." She squeezed her hand, then let go. Ennisa felt weary and tired. She swayed a little, then plopped down to the ground to sit on her backside. The ground was cold, like wet stone. The abstract feeling that she'd forgotten to tell her friend something wore away, but it was a muted kind of feeling. The discordant music swelled, then was swallowed by the overpowering sound of a waterfall in the dark that appeared as if from nowhere. The speck of light brightened suddenly, then was gone, extinguished by the thunderous, invisible waterfall. Ennisa couldn't see a thing; not the rocks she sat on, nor the woman she was with.

The water in the cavern was rising. She could feel it around her ankles and her thighs. She didn't want to drown, but there was a tired sort of apathy thread all the way through her body. There were several facts she knew; one, that there was no way out, two, that she needed to say something, and three, that she had no idea what she needed to say, only that it was important. After a few ticks, the water was at her chest. It was only when the water was up to her neck that the sluggishness dissolved, and she remembered! Yet, before she could say this most important of things, her head was underwater, and she was drowning.

Too late. She thrashed, grabbed her companion by the legs if she was still there, and tried to rescue herself, to pull herself upwards. Everything was dark, and the cold water rushed across every part of her body. Her eyes were open, seeing nothing, and she was filled with blind panic that came too late to do anything. She opened her mouth to gasp for breath, and as the water flowed in...

She awoke, panting, her face blanched with cold sweat. The sheets were wrapped around her, like seaweed around a buoy. She remembered! Something to tell... something to tell... who? Telling... what? She wiped her face as clean as possible, feeling a little ill. In the cold light of early morning, the dream was evaporating. Perhaps she would remember some of it later, if her memory was jogged. Perhaps she wouldn't. Only time would tell.

oocHey! I ended up finishing, but that was fun! Continue for as long as you'd like. Hopefully, we'll meet in the waking world at some point though.

[Rohka]

We can’t help her. We were too slow.

The words she heard were impossible to believe. Rohka found herself dizzied, the darkness around them all-consuming, but the spot of light being her only source of direction. She didn’t want to fail. What defined failure here? Letting go? Adela was someone she lost long ago, someone she could never hold onto. Failure, in that sense, had been ingrained on this front since the very moment she saw the girl’s form in time.

Why resign? Why give up to the sound of hope falling away?

This woman, this pale, translucent friend who’d returned her embrace during a breakdown of her own psyche was someone she thought could be the key to changing the past. This woman been so clear in this murkiness, literally shocking the life out of her spirit in the world they’d been in before, to remind her that ‘we need to help Adela’. How could this woman release their purpose so soon?

After everything they’d been through? After making ‘this place’ and being killed for it?

The questions swirled along with their surroundings as the woman parted from her, seemingly tired of it all. Rohka watched her drop to the ground. This weariness, this embodied drop seemed to shift the passage, bringing in a new noise, one of rushing water. The light that Rohka now looked towards was brightening, the sound of falling water growing stronger, but then the light vanished. The death of the light by the strength of…

Time. The revelation was a whisper, deep within her heart.

Water. Remember its form. It is different, moving quicker, much quicker than you.

Rohka turned towards the thunderous sound, taking steps towards it. She always followed the signs, no matter where they were, no matter how small. It was in her training as a fortune teller. The delicious treats of life’s mysteries lay beyond the details. As she walked, she barely noticed the water levels rising. She’d forgotten about the woman who’d dropped, but she heard thrashing, water splashing, and she looked back for a tick to see that she was gone. She, too, was lost now. Rohka felt her stomach twist at losing yet another soul to the flow. The water was rushing past, rising as she willed herself to get closer and closer to the sound that was almost too much to bear. It was a sound filled with the merging of heat and cold, louder than anything she had ever experienced before, and a part of her wondered if she would go deaf from listening to it.

The only music that ever existed.

Her own body didn’t matter to her now. Rohka was determined. Failure could not exist, not here, not in this world. This she knew for sure. This was her only truth. Everything was to be learned. Everything was simply a delicious detail.

And with that in mind, she entered the waterfall.

The garden within flashed with vivid colours for only a moment. There, she saw her. A glimpse of Adela’s smile.

It was all she needed.

Rohka woke up with her heart beating fast, blinking a couple times, thinking she was still seeing the myriad of beauty from the garden she’d entered. In between the world of sleep and wakefulness, Rohka shifted, the movement erasing much of her memory. No, I can’t forget this one, she thought. I’ll write something in that journal I got.

Slowly she reached across her bed to the table where her journal lay, groggily lifting herself to take the quill and ink, beginning to write some gibberish into existence.

Adela was her name. Another lady. Flower lady. Pale. Bad smell. Slapped. Hugged. Darkness. Light. Can’t be slow. Can’t fail. Must find and follow. The water. Rushing water.

A garden.

OOCReally hope we can meet in the waking world too Thank you for writing with me, and for being so patient with me. You write wonderfully, it’s been so much fun! Cheers to the dream world! EDIT: Had to wake Roh up. I can't have her dreaming forever