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?"