Now, Now... Zintila is Watching (Caoin)

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Herein lies the realm of dreams, where dreamers who are scattered all over the world in the physical can come together in the mysterious world of dreams. Remember, unless one is a Dreamwalker, there is no control over dreams. Ever. Anything can happen, and by threading a dream, you are subject to whomever can walk dreams and the whims of Storytellers.

Now, Now... Zintila is Watching (Caoin)

Postby Landon Mora on November 19th, 2011, 12:55 am

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45th of Autumn, 511 AV

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The space was vast, stretching out in every way. Where Landon sat was a expanse of grass running to the horizon until on one side it reached a string of mountains. The air was crisp and clean while the sky above was clear and starry. There was more to the womanizing Landon Mora than people saw. Perhaps the man did it to hide the more sensitive side of him. Maybe it was because he had been hurt before. None of it mattered at the moment though. In dreams the emotions and insecurities could wait.

The valley around him was alive, although nothing in it's tall grasses was coming out to pester him, at least not yet. The air smelled lightly of mint, a strange choice for a man who seemed to care little about details such as this. It was the kind of lightness that could almost be looked over. Accompanying the smell was a cool feeling in the air. Not cold enough for a jacket, just light coolness. Sort of like early spring evenings. Here there was no season. The grass felt like spring, the air was cool like autumn, the sky was clear the summer, and the mountains were frozen like winter. This place was not anything. It just was...

Landon laid alone in the valley, staring up at the sky. He was from the city of stars. The land where the woman who created them called her home. He lived among the children who had fallen from their gasp. He was not a star. Just some imperfect satellite who was allowed to walk among them.

The man was dressed lightly in a shirt and pants. He did not even wear shoes or socks. The wind rustled through the long grass, the light chill evidently from the snowy mountains. Landon felt at peace. There were no ghosts, no Ethaefal, no beautiful women to chase. Just the stars, a gift from Lady Zintila and that was perfect.
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Now, Now... Zintila is Watching (Caoin)

Postby Caoin on November 19th, 2011, 8:23 pm

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Caoin could just barely smell the light scent of mint on the air as she walked across the grassy expanse that was laid out before her. In the light coolness of the starry evening, she was dressed in the attire that she normally wore for riding, leather pants and a blouse with the sleeves rolled up past her elbows. She seemed to be missing her boots and socks though, which didn’t bother her in the slightest as her feet fell on the cool blades of grass with every step she took. In the distance, she could see a range of mountains, rising up to touch the night sky and she followed the rising tower of stone up to where the stars shone like fireflies in the night. She knew that the stars belonged to Lady Zintila, and she marveled at the work of art that the Lady had created, wondering what they were, what they were made of.

As she walked, Caoin thought she was alone in the grassy sea and she was far too preoccupied with the painting that stretched across the sky to pay attention to her surroundings or where she was walking or if she even really was alone. If there were predators about, Caoin would have made the perfect prey; she was starting to find that she was far more vulnerable in her strange dreamscapes than in reality, where the dangers of Cyphrus and her responsibilities constantly challenged her and weakness could lead to unwanted consequences. What consequences did one encounter in a dream, though? Other than nightmares or those dreams that seemed to carry some sort of message for the dreamer, dreams were meant to be an escape from reality.

In the quiet of that valley, a voice rose up. It was nothing special, not the voice of one trained in the art of song, but the voice that one would expect from a mother singing her babe to sleep. Warm and gentle, like a blanket. “Hush-a-bye, don’t you cry. Go to sleep my little baby. When you wake, you will have all the pretty little horses…” The song, sung in Drykas, floated out over the valley like the gentle breeze that moved the grass.


Traditional African American Lullaby
All The Pretty Little Horses: Adaptation by Becky Jean Williams


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cause it's almost like
your heaven's trying everything
to keep me out
-- Far From Home by FFDP

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