Fateful Dreams (Chemar)

[Torc Ironwood]

53th of Summer, 511AV Carved into the mountain itself, the Dreaming lady offers relaxation, and escape for those who want to explore beyond the boundaries of their waking life. Upon entering, a light shroud of warmth and moisture clings to the Lady's clientele, providing them with an instant sense of comfort. The main parlor is open and airy, warmed by the glow of amber lights set into the ceiling. To baffle the sound and create an atmosphere of utter calm, the floor is strewn with large, plush pillows and where the floor might be otherwise bare there lie intricately woven rugs provided by some of Wind Reach's finest weavers. Extending off the main parlor like spokes of a wheel are three separate rooms. The first room, situated at the front of the spa is the brightest of these rooms. It is illuminated during the day by floor to ceiling walls made of pebbled glass, blown in the same warm amber as the parlor lights. These walls allow the outside light to filter in without compromising the privacy of those people inside. Lining the inside wall are a number of smaller, private rooms, enclosed by the same exquisite glass each holding a padded massage table. After a massage, guests of the Lady can slip into any of the four heated spas that are carved into the floor. The bowls of the small pools are crafted from the natural stone of the mountain and have been polished into a smooth sheen that at once offers a welcoming surface on which to lounge as well as a heated stone that retains the warmth of the water to complete their spa experience. The second spoke leads to a darker room without windows but aglow with candle light. Comfortable lounging beds line both walls, accessible on three sides to provide the staff healers free access to those needing their ministry. Sliding glass partitions can be pulled from the walls if more privacy is desired. A wall to wall cabinet of leaded glass holds medicinal herbs and salves, as well as most everything needed to see to any moderate injury. The final spoke of the wheel leads further into the mountain. Guests choosing this path will be accompanied to their destination by a guide as there are no foreign light sources in the dream chambers. This wing of the Dreaming Lady consists of six oval shaped rooms, each one carved into the stone of the mountain, and containing a single, feather soft pallet. Lit only by the iridescent veins naturally existing in the stone, these rooms appear to be glowing with a thousand pinpoints of starlight. A subtle smell of earth and fire can be noticed at first, threading into the senses, but as the exposure grows longer the fumes from the mountain penetrate the skin causing vivid dreams and visions. Upon completion of any dream or vision, guests of the Lady have the option of being visited by one of two Dream-weavers. They are the proprietors of the Dreaming Lady albeit in the most subtle way, and will offer an interpretation of completed dreams. Torc entered the Dreaming Lady upon his day off. Having worked the forges for the last season, Torc had been accepted by the other smiths as someone who knew what he was doing. Sadly, he still was an outsider and many people didn't understand how he had picked up their language so quickly. Little did they know that the earring he had pierced high on the outer cartilage was one from the dead god Sylir. Looking at his right ear people didn't notice the cylinder made of wood with carved oak leaves, in fact, Torc hardly noticed it anymore himself. Yet, he knew it was there when people spoke a different language, for he immediately understood. As for his usual attire Torc had kept from is normal clothes for the more traditional bryda and sandals. Torc had hoped it would make the transition amongst the Inarta easier. However, all it had done was make him more of a target for Endals taunts. No one had quite worked up the courage to challenge Torc to a fight. After all, he was a massive burly man, who's muscles were as hard as iron. Torc stood inside of the entrance to the Dreaming Lady taking in the surroundings. He ran his hand through his blue black hair and for a moment he felt his skin and muscles go taunt by the brief gesture. For the past few nights, he had been waking up because of a nightmare, and wasn't getting much sleep over it. It made his eyes darker the normal from his slightly bony eye ridge. He needed a good night sleep, and try as he might he couldn't remember much of the nightmare when he woke. Granted he had his suspicions, having looked into the eyes of Lhex and seeing infinity probably didn't help his mental state. In fact, most of what he had done over the past year hadn't help his mental state at all. He was starting to feel like a piece of the Gods and Goddesses. For a moment Torc adjusted the waist band of his pants thinking that they had once again become loose. Seemed he would never get the hang of Inarta clothing. "Hello?" Torc spoke in Nari.

[Chemar Tisserand]

Solas had been sent home, no appointments remained on the book and she was meeting with someone, a someone that put a twinkle in her eye. Having never experienced that twinkle, the dreamwalker almost shooed her out the door, insisting that she take advantage of the moments in her life that made her happy. In turn, it offered Chemar a moment of quiet relaxation, having spent the better part of the day in the chambers with clients. Sitting in her usual spot, she relaxed, making some notes about details she needed to keep clear, small nuances in some of the dreams that if missed, would change everything; Notes made for those that returned week after week to see her. The moment she heard the telltale whine of the front door her quill stopped moving and her eyes lifted to see the face of her visitor. As he walked in, the first thing that caught her attention was his face and how it seemed drawn despite the warmth of his skin. He seemed uncomfortable, quietly fidgety:first with his hair, and then with his waist of his pants. He had not visited before, she would have remembered. In bare feet, she guessed she was a few inches taller then the man, but he looked as though he would have no trouble lifting Chemar over his head with one hand. From the start, she had a good feeling about the stranger, and looked forward to speaking with him. Hello? She wore her hair in a long, fiery braid, knotting the glass teardrops woven through it into silence, so when she moved the usual chiming accompaniment was missing, making her nearly soundless as she placed her bare feet on the floor and crossed the room. "Hello." She was almost beside him when her quiet voice reached his ears. "Welcome to the Dreaming Lady." With a long look into his eyes she understood, and her face softened. "You look as though you could use some sleep." A wry smile played upon her full lips. "It just so happens, I could help you with that. I'm Chemar." After tucking the quill behind her ear she extended her hand in welcome, her eyes never leaving his. "How long have you been having nightmares?"

[Torc Ironwood]

Torc looked at the long hair red head and for a moment didn’t really say anything. He didn’t really know how to feel about talking about his nightmare, how do you describe infinity in a pair of eyes? How do you describe running away from a feeling of that no matter what choice you make you can’t ever stop those eyes. Ever since his meeting with Lhex, Torc’s mind had become more and more tired and burden there was too much to do and who would take the challenge? Torc had realized that if he studied magic and traveled for years just to get the right audiences, that in the end he could never escape his true fate of the die. So Torc stared at the woman for a moment, dark thoughts in his mind. It was so very hard to keep doing the right thing every day and night. Where was the reward? Where had it gotten him? His neck muscles jumped and twitched for a moment, finally he swallowed a bit of salvia that had coated his mouth. “Hello Chemar. I am Torc, I suppose the nightmares started off and on last season. These last fourteen or so days, one in particular has been haunting me.” Torc took a step closer to Chemar, muscles rippled briefly as he gripped and released his hands in a fist. “You see Chemar, last season I prayed and became obsessed with an idea, and when I received my… answer it made me question somethings.” Torc took another step closer, he was tired and yet… well angry. It seemed so pointless everyday to wake up and do a little bit of work that in the end would become dust and dirt. Compared to infinity what was the balance of good or evil? Did it matter if he did right or wrong? Who really cared if today he hurt someone or himself? The only thing that had kept him getting up every day was the thought of her… by Cheva he wanted to be released of her hold over him. He was tired and after meeting with Lhex himself and realizing how cheap everything was compared to the whole, what did his love for her really matter. Torc stopped himself from taking another step, he rubbed his forehead thinking about it all. Torc wondered if she would even recognize him, still see the boy that she had shared her body with, or would she see the man that was lost and broken without her. The harsh words of the God still echoed in him, ‘Stop saying your sorry, creation isn’t sorry.’ Yet it all came back to her and his parents. As a child, Torc had always felt like if he wasn’t a good boy to Priestess Lara, she wouldn’t love him just like his real parents. Then when he had lost her… it had hollowed a big hole in his live. Torc looked back up at Chemar and a sad grin came about his face. “Sorry,” He cringed at the word like he was setting the lash to his back, “I don’t seem to be myself. I am sure I just need a good night’s rest… I heard that you gave massages or perhaps a sleeping draught. A few people suggested that I come and see you for something like that.” Torc felt better, in his mind a sleeping draught was what he needed. A night of blackness would stop him for such thoughts and possibly restore him.