To Dream, to Dream, to Dream (Caelum)

Thomas and Caelum Dream

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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.

To Dream, to Dream, to Dream (Caelum)

Postby Thomas Cosa on January 4th, 2014, 3:28 am

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23rd of Winter, 512AV

Thomas frowned, confused.

Something was...off.

He was in a forest. Or a meadow, perhaps. A beach? The surrounding...everything was changing far too fast for the pulser to identify anything; almost as fast as the crystal blues of a secret sea rolled in, rushing around him, roaring like a starving beast, it disappeared. Or it rolled away. Or evaporated. Either way, it was gone, and all that was left was a desert. Plain and dry and...

Green?

Sprouting like warts, angry and violent, trees and shrubs and flowers tore away at the sandy earth, shooting up at the skies like stars. They grew and grew and grew, growing far more and far faster than Thomas could have ever expected or hoped or dreamed for any plant.

And then, like the sea, they were gone. Or overtaken. Grass, generously coated in morning dew, whistled and waved and danced in a nonexistence wind. They moved uniformly, each blade almost identical to the next -- if not completely -- in every way. In height, in color, everything the same.

And for a moment, at least stagnant.

But for how long?

"Hello?" Thomas called out half-heartedly. He was almost complete sure he was lost, or at least, he decided he was; the dreamer just wasn't sure he wanted to be found. But then again, perhaps someone could answer where he was.

"Where am I?"

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To Dream, to Dream, to Dream (Caelum)

Postby Caelum on January 4th, 2014, 4:00 am

"Where do you want to be?"

It was a stranger's voice posing the question to Thomas. A stranger to Thomas, and a stranger to Mizahar. The common language felt foreign in his mouth, seaming every syllable with an audible scar.

He brought the wind with him, both its scents and its actualization to rush through the grasses and bow them in shifting patterns on the plain. As the blades whipped back up their variations became obvious, their seemingly uniform color in reality a collection of colors from all ranges of earth and sea. Pale mint and sober saffron, vivid hydrangea and determined birch. The Sea of Grass sprawled around them, stretching toward the four corners of the world and in doing so at once diminishing and centralizing their placement on it.

The Drykas turned his head to peer at his fellow dreamer, flecks of terrifying gold the only light in otherwise dark eyes. He wore a smile, sultry and wry, and his hands slouched into the pockets of a long, weathered jacket, split down the back for riding. Even in dreams, his clothes were a little too big -- his night form had always been shorter than his day shape.

"You're dreaming," he explained. A heavy knot of braids shifted at the nape of his neck as he tilted his head, curiosity causing his gaze to linger on Thomas. The windmarks swirled in inky patterns over his visible hide, bursting out from around his left eye and trickling down his throat to disappear into an upturned collar. "This is dreaming. You can be anywhere you want to be."

Without warning, he smiled. It was disarming. And amused. Why amused? "Where do you need to be, Thomas?"
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To Dream, to Dream, to Dream (Caelum)

Postby Thomas Cosa on January 7th, 2014, 2:49 am

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"Dreaming? No. I...I'm not...."

"I'm lost. I'm just lost," he said, or perhaps he thought too loudly. The wind rushed around him, betraying his privacy, stealing the words from him with a simple breeze. It pushed at him again, forcing him closer to the strange man, and carried his words away. The wind danced, glinting silver in the wind, taunting and teasing the poor boy. Lost. It spelled out the word again and again, and Thomas could have sworn he could hear it laughing -- like bells, like chimes. A pleasant sound, but cold.

The wind swooped and soared, bridging the gap between the two, still laughing as it enveloped the braided man with clothes that were too big.

"I need to be...Sahova, maybe. But...I left. I think." The grass had slowed, stiffening. Why was he answering all the questions? Why was he getting no answers?

"How did you do that? Who are you?" Thomas asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion -- he hadn't noticed the other wind behind him, at least yet. He was far too concerned with where he actually was, who the stranger was, why he was where, where he had been before -- too many questions, and not enough answers. At least, nothing visible.

The burning smell of winter came with his breath, chilling the entire fields with a light frost. Again, he missed this. The other wind bite at his nose, at his exposed flesh. But he was still too confused, too paranoid. Why was the stranger smiling? Why was he so confident when Thomas was not?

What did he have that Thomas did not?

"Who are you?" He asked again cooly. His shoulders, the thin shirt he wore offering almost no protection against the growing ice and frost that was collecting over his body. His pants, cotton, were torn and ripped. His gloves were fraying, lightening from their original black. It was like he had been traveling for a long while, trying to get somewhere, to someplace, to someone that had managed to avoid him.

The other wind, perhaps one that the animator had brought on his own, growled, tensing visibly around his silhouette. It puffed around him, little silver question marks floating off him.


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To Dream, to Dream, to Dream (Caelum)

Postby Caelum on January 10th, 2014, 9:08 pm

“You’re dreaming,” Caelum answered him again.

The smile he wore shifted with self-deprecation, but it didn’t fade. He watched the words float through what to him materialized as the Sea of Grass with which he was so familiar and, in his present shape, so obviously an inhabitant of. Or had been. Of course, he had inhabited a whole lot of places. Hadn’t he?

A hand rose up to catch Thomas’ elbow when the wind rocked him, his grip firm and steadying; and he relinquished it easily when Thomas pulled away, his demeanor cooling. Even hastily. He felt the languid roll of the mirror-masked goddess within him, tumbling through him like the brush of velvet against his bones. It caused one eye to squint.

He had to be imagining it. It was dreaming, afterall,

He spread his hands and watched the stranger’s clothing fade and weather, rumple itself down with age and travel. He tilted his chin, especially curious, and eased a step backwards so as to give the man his space. The wind tugged loose one of his braids and flapped the tails of his long coat, revealing the dagger hilts bristling out from the height of his boots.

“I’m Caelum,” the Drykas told him, offering the stranger the only name he could pronounce. Not even in dreaming was his true name capable of being uttered, crumbling on the tongue into so many syllables of meaninglessness. “And I’m dreaming to. There’s nothing to be afraid of –“ He paused. “Well, not much at least.”

Then he grinned. It was ridiculously charming.
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To Dream, to Dream, to Dream (Caelum)

Postby Thomas Cosa on January 14th, 2014, 1:21 am

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Thomas nodded briskly at the introduction, crossing his arms, hugging his body tightly. His breath clung heavily to the air, made visible by the cold, the pulser rubbing his arms in a nervous way. Caelum, despite his sudden appearance and incredulous suggestions, was becoming more and more comforting by the tick. Thomas hadn't realized how long it had been, seasons surely, since he last needed so much to trust someone, to be so completely dependent on a stranger -- Sahova had long since taught him to live like the isle itself, separated from the world. The Citadel had shown him that anyone and everyone could be, and probably was, a murderer, a villain. Paranoia had ruled his life, but that was the key to his survival there.

Here, "Where ever here is," he wondered to himself, he had nothing. It wasn't Sahova. There was no one to buy favors from, no one to impress with his magic. Talent would do nothing for him in this wasteland. He had nothing to stand on, nothing to keep himself from drowning in the unknown; aside from Caelum that was -- the strange, cleverly handsome man seemed to know that they were dreaming, or at least he was very confident that was what was happening.

"How do you know we're dreaming?" Thomas asked, eyes flickering to man's boots; he had seen the daggers, and although Caelum's jacket now covered the weapons, he still knew they were there. He would remember that, at least. "And why are we dreaming together?" he paused, his eyes darting back to the handsome face. Caelum's smile had caught him off guard, charming and wirily. It was instinct, although one gone unrecognized after so long spent among the undead, to offer one in return.

His was awkward, and quick and careful. He was becoming more comfortable, or at least, less suspicious of the strange dreamer. Casually, he glanced behind him, wondering if another person would seemingly pop out of nowhere -- like Caelum had.

"And you knew my name," he stated, not coldly but neither was his tone warm, "How?" he asked, demanding an answer. There were so many questions, his mind already to the brim with the unspoken ones. But first, he needed a basis.

The other questions would come later.

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To Dream, to Dream, to Dream (Caelum)

Postby Caelum on January 20th, 2014, 7:50 pm

"I'm assuming I know your name because you're a figment of my imagination," Caelum pointed out to the mage in a matter of fact manner.

That damnable smile of his twitched toward a friendly smirk. He held himself still and relaxed, attempting to make himself appear as non-threatening as possible. He was no villain, but he wasn't much of a hero either. One finger rubbed down the side of his nose and he cast a surveying look over the landscape.

"This could be a little more comfortable," he suggested quietly. "Seems sort of barren. And threatening. And cold. Don't you think? I'd rather this wasn't a nightmare. I have enough of those already."

A comfortable, cushioned chair appeared behind Caelum, breaking stalks of grass, and he flopped down into it without ceremony. Long legs sprawled out in front of him and he sighed, peering up at Thomas now rather than across.

"How do I know I'm dreaming? I know --" He spread out of his hands to encompass the whole of their reality. "Because if I wasn't dreaming, then I overnight became ridiculously powerful. I mean, who but a god can materialize chairs in the middle of the Sea of Grass? And on a whim, no less."

He grinned like he wanted Thomas to get the joke.
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To Dream, to Dream, to Dream (Caelum)

Postby Thomas Cosa on February 1st, 2014, 5:47 am

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"And my memories, too, then, I suppose? Are they also a figment of yours?" Thomas smirked, his head cocked teasingly to the side. It was a little ridiculous what the stranger was suggesting -- that he, everything that he knew was and had experienced, was a simple incarnation of his imagination. And even if Thomas were to entertain the notion, if only for a tick, the pulser mage would also have to embrace the idea that somewhere along the way, he had managed to secure self-awarness.

Meaning, that wherever he was now, was his real reality.

But that was ridiculous. So, of course they were dreaming.

"You think?" Thomas answered, his voice finding a foreign confidence. His own tone startled even him, the youth touching his own throat hesitantly. But then, they were dreaming. Perhaps his confidence had come as quickly as the cold? "I don't dislike it, " he shrugged, sitting down, crossing his legs easily. "It reminds me of the last place I thought I was, or rather, the place I think I should be." The air around him shimmered, wavering into a more solid area. It was a room -- empty, and cold, and completely stone -- or, it was almost one, anyway. The wall that should've faced Caelum wasn't there, or perhaps it just hadn't formed.

Or maybe, the animator was leaving himself exposed to the dreamer.

"And now here we are," he smiled again, his eyes flickered hesitantly to the ground before looking back towards Caelum, "And we're both real, then? I'm not imagining you?"

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To Dream, to Dream, to Dream (Caelum)

Postby Caelum on March 2nd, 2014, 1:10 am

"You are dreaming me," Caelum replied. "But, yes, I'm real. We're both real insolong as we perceive ourselves as such."

It might have been frustrating, but the humor he displayed was not mockery. One received the impression that when Caelum disliked a person, there would be very little doubt. His blood ran hot, but he had walked years in the bitterest winter of the soul. He continued to smile, curious in his unending study. It was of Thomas and, now, of the stone room surrounding them. He slumped further down in his chair and tilted his head back, studying the smooth walls and seeking out any cracks that might spiderweb through the prison of this place.

"What's over there?" He wanted to know and gestured toward the malformed wall, the one behind which he imagined he could glimpse the passage of shadows.

Without warning, he rolled to his feet to devour the distance to the fourth wall. His hands rose, palms facing outward, to spill down the stone. Warmth blushed through the rock, instigated by his touch and visible to the eye. It had the look of sunshine, simple and soothing.

"Where is it you think you should be?" He asked absently, still inspecting the wall. In point of fact, he was looking for a door.
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To Dream, to Dream, to Dream (Caelum)

Postby Thomas Cosa on September 13th, 2014, 1:00 am

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"A wall. Or, it was a wall, anyway," Thomas smirked, teasing. It was completely ridiculous, everything; how could anyone just crumble a wall away? Even if they were dreaming. And did this happen every night? Did he meet strangers, real people, mingle and chat over chameleon landscapes and then forget it whenever he woke up?

Had he met Caelum before?

"Sahova," he replied, "An island off of mainland Sylira. Everyone's dead, mostly, except me and a handful of others. It isn't exactly hospitable." he sighed, almost sounding bored. He'd considered not saying anything, and normally, in real life, he wouldn't had -- but this was a dream, and they would both forget everything whenever he woke up, right? And even if he did remember, he'd write it off as nothing, and just get back to work. "It's worth it, though, I mean, you'll never find a better place to practice magic. If you're into that kind of thing, that is." Thomas paused, biting his lip, wondering just how far he could speak, how much he could tell.

Was this who he was now? A personality that moderated itself even in it's dream? Had Sahova made him that paranoid that it carried into his subconscious?

"It just came from Ravok, or I guess, I'm en route to Sahova via Ravok. So technically speaking, I should be on a boat. Not in a lab."

His body stiffed, expecting a change. The landscape had remained far too stagnant for far too long; and yet, everything stayed the same. The vast emptiness of the grasslands still seemed vacant and cold, the endless sky still very blue, and his three, almost four walls still stood. Kind of.

"And you, Caelum? Where are you, when, uh, you're not dreaming?" Thomas laughed awkwardly, dropping his gaze to the cold marble beneath him.

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