Korsaken Dreams

Log Info

• Title: Korsaken Dreams
• Emitter: Cryosanthia
• Characters: Cryosanthia, Braelnoir
• Place: A10: Temple of Daeus
• Time: Friday, September 17, 2021, 2:40 PM
• Summary: Braelnoir visits Cryosanthia where she is invalid at the Temple of Daeus, and the two scale-sisters discuss their previous battle, as well as other events, such as Cryo's experiences in the Sea of Mana, seeing Kor's heaven, and events when they first met. Cryo apologizes for being selfish, and keep Braelnoir from her dreams and not helping her to do more. She needs her. Braelnoir explains Cryo is needed by her friends just as much, there is always some obstacle in the way of moving forward, getting up, or opening your eyes. Cryo is trying, she says, but Brae berates her to do it. Get up. Wake up. Fight, for what else would a Korite say, but fight for your nestlings, your family, your friends, your world. Cryo's eyes snap open, to another layer of delirium. Braelnoir isn't there. Cryo isn't recovered, or conscious, but she's getting closer to both and can feel Brae's dreams in her hand.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* A10: Temple of Daeus *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The temple of the Sun Lord glitters golden beneath the same. Rather than walls, the majority of the temple is composed of what appears at first blush to be a raised round platform made of one of the largest slabs of marble likely in existence. Columns rise into the air as if to hold some massive ceiling, though instead of a normal ceiling, one finds the deep blue sky, studded by a disconcertingly close canopy of bright stars. One should not worry, however, as the rain never falls, and the wind never blows on this particular temple, but for a gentle breeze, whatever the weather outside may be.

Despite the austerity of the columns, warmth suffuses the grounds. A grand, marble statue of the Shining Knight stands a the center, a hand outstretched in benediction. Beside Him, the statue of Althea, their hands clasped in love. The central position of the temple to the others gives view to all of their children, and the two look upon one another with the solemnity of love that has been the center of so many tales and legends.

Masterfully designed mana lamps provide further soft, golden lightning where needed, their pedestals carved in the form of the Dragons of Light, over which Daeus is said to have dominion in His form of Draco Solis. Majesty, justice, and welcome suffuse the temple grounds. Around the central temple are a series of smaller buildings, each with a simple function and form. One houses the sacred book depicting some of the earliest known translations of the Laws of Light, which pilgrims from near and far come to visit. Another houses the well-appointed quarters of the Sunguards, and among all the ground bristle the Sunblades.

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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  Appearing, in Order  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Cryosanthia  7'2"     391 Lb     Dragon            Female    Sickly, tattered grey-scales, with a crippled wing and tail.
Braelnoir    5'11"    146 Lb     Human             Female    A tall, pale Acanian woman, branded in silver.               
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

The Temple of Daeus.

Also known as the Temple of the Dragonfather.

Appropriate then, that a small white dragon is recovering there. This has caused some consternation. It is one thing to have stylized gold dragons holding mana-lights as decoration. It is another to have a chromatic, lying injured in a room somewhere. Even with strong assurances that she is not evil, she's actually a Sith'Makar and she's been here before, some are unsettled. It's helpful that her cihuaa keeps people out.

He does not keep her scale-sister from her. Cryo still has Braelnoir's earring, Rolson's earring, clenched tightly in her hand. The ring, the dancing skeleton, she can feel them. The blood went cold, the blood has been cleaned, but she would not let go. Braelnoir is always with her.

Cryosanthia lies on her belly, her scales mostly-white, her markings still a glacial blue, hidden under the strong blue ionization. She's been able to keep some food down. The hot rocks and the nethercite blanket seemed to be working. Her side is bandaged. Her wing and tail don't show improvement. Her eyes are closed.

"I'm sorry Brae. I was selfish. I kept you here, I kept you from reuniting with him. I could have managed Zaya, Junior, without you." Her mind has gone back to the days in the Phalanx Falcis, their time in Kor's Endless Battlefield, "You and Baz and Edinaz should have taken him to him. Instead a demon will get him."

"Baz came to see me, he told me to get up." Cryo's voice cracks, "I can't Brae, I just can't."

"The mission kept m from stayin', luv." comes the Acanian's voice, her tone that steely lie it usually is when the Korite is bottling things up around others, the one that manages to convince softskins "You got m'head back on th'contract."

Footsteps sound their steady approach to the wounded dragon child, and her voice becomes chiding, "You didn't make me strike it, that w's my choice, my freedom, an' don't you ever try an' take that from me."

Then gentler, but with a certain firmness beneath, sounds from almost nose level "It took us both ta steer that mojo-tech back ta'the world, anyway."

A sigh, and the Acanian straightens, "'es right, though. Sabby said we'n get our girl back. We can get her -back-, luv...!"

"You are correct. It's a lie... that I could have done it without you. I needed you. I need you." Cryo says, squeezing her hand and hugging herself, "I can defend and I can run away. I can't kill. I need you to bring the fight. I need you and I kept you and I put too much on you. I should have been there."

"It should have been me," she's drowning in her sea of despair. This is a bitter water she can't breath, made from the vinegar of tears. "She was... she was right here." Her left arm clenches against her side, where she hugged Lily, where she lay against her Ssassa, uncaring about her wounds, happy she had returned.

Cryo's voice crackles, "She was... she is... she was... my everything. I wanted to break so many times, but had to hold myself together for her. She was right here, now she's..."

Her body shudders, her deep breathing interrupted by a keening of despair, fading into a question no mother should have to ask, one which should never be answered. "How did she... what... I..."

The question bumps her like a Killer Whale, submerging her deeper. Bubbles come out, "Did she suffer?"

Then, "Can we?"

"An' I shoulda been there ta deal with that fuckin' Mouser skank that done ya." Brae returns bitterly, "An' I shoulda got... I shoulda got ta Role sooner."

More incensed, "I shoulda been able ta protect her! Or I shoulda died swinging, by Kor!"

A sigh, and the steely lie is back "But here we are, an' we got us work ta do."

The mother's question brings a second sigh and from closer still, with a rueful tenderness, "D'ya really want t'know what Eclavdran did t'er, after how he done Merek?"

There is another straightening, and footsteps carry the silvermane in a lazy spiral about the room, "After all th'shit we both scene.. we gotta believe it's possible."

Then, "There's a long ist o'shit 'at needs settin' straight, Cryosanthia.But ain't none o'that happenin' if you cain't even open yer eyes. Gotta see the path t'walk it."

"Nooo..." Cryo's voice warbles, and she trembles. She wants to, and she doesn't. The more she thinks about it, the more real it seems, the more it will just be how it is.

"Korsandir didn't come back, or Kravar, or all those guards and clerics. They don't always come back. Only Merek." Her thoughts turn his way, and then go blank.

"I have to believe it's possible." She repeats. Her breathing goes steady and slow.

"He tried to channel the Sea of Magic. I didn't tell him to! I just asked, everyone, is this possible and he did it."

"He burned up and was lying in a lump, and then he tried to fly and he just... he just vanished." There is an anguish and guilt there, she has betrayed him just as much as Braelnoir has. "and now he's back."

"I tried, I had to, it was me, Brae. We needed more magic, we needed someone to play the Dark God, we needed a balance and..."

"There was no mouser. I did this to myself, and now... I feel so heavy, so pushed down, and Baz visited me. He told me to get up."

Even in this mostly lucid state, she's still forgetting and repeating herself.

Braelnoir sighs again, "Kaelyn an me got twisted up by magic b'fore, so'd Nels." she starts softly, then with more iron, "We dealt with it. Butcha gotta -look- at -it-."

Her spiral now resolved into a slow circle, a perimeter around the broken child of Dragonkind, "Yeah, well Ghisha did, so'd Mikilos an' Kira an Serene. Merek's th'only one makes it a gods damned day trip."

She brings her gauntletted hands together in a single clap, "Good! Ya stepped inta th'gap. Ya took yer shot an' ya got smacked for it." She may be shaking her head, "Kor's balls, girl, ya stepped up inta th'fight. Ya swing hard, ya stood up. Ya -FOUGHT-."

The pacing starts again, "Like a nest mother, Cryosanthia. The People come from hard lands. Some never escape from their shells, even under the watchful Mothers, but Eggeaters will alway feast well if the Nest Mothers never rise."

"Ya said ya wouldn't be able t'handl being changed like I was once. I thought ya's wrong, an' I told ya so, but here ya are...."

Cryosanthia listens, and there is a small swell of pride. She did step up, and she was necessary. The others might have comprehended the path before them without her, eventually, or more might have followed Kravar. Her realization came almost too late. They might have failed.

No on else could have represented the Dragonfather, her dragonfather, not the one of this temple, as well as she. A direct descendant, even if one of very diluted blood. She was acting a role, she was acting angry, which persisted. She was acting brave.

A good performance can be very convincing, impossible to tell from the real thing. With these stakes, it was. They needed her.

Her cihuaa needs her. Her scale-sister needs her. Her little fluffy sister needs her, will need her, when this news hits home. Her scale-kin and the others she's taken under her wings, wing, need her. Seldan might even need her.

Lily needs her.

"Pull it together Cryo," she says, squeezing on the little dancing skeleton, "Brae's right, it's about the fight. The show must go on. Even if it's all sound and fury, you keep on dancing until the curtail calls. You're still on stage."

"They need me."

White Flower, pull yourself together. Reassemble that White Tower.

"I'm trying Brae, I'm trying."

"Tryin' ain't doin', luv." Brae says steadily, her orbit around the transfigured Sith continuing, "Reach down in there... find that part of you, deep down at th'base of ya."

Her words hiss and growl in her archaic take of the Mother tongue, "The part that broke free, that drove you to escape the safe shell that kept you from -seeing- the world for the first time. A world of horror. Of Glory. -Your world.-" <Draconic>

Her tone softens and she continues, and, "Once ya found it.... take it in both hands. Hold on tight, an' use it ta push this... self pity... this fear away."

A tender voice, now, "We need you, Cryoanthia. Ya need ta get up... 'member when I couldn't stand? Kae said good things, but who showed me th'way?"

You need to hatch. Cryo remembers the words, although not what she said to Brae, or who said them to her. "She had to help me. You're not supposed to help the eggs hatch, it makes the People weak. You watch and hope because the hatchling won't live if they come out to early. They'll wither, they'll die."

Like abandoned softskin babies.

Like Zeke.

Like me.

But not always.

Cryosanthia remembers the claws reaching into her cracks, pulling. She knows how. She strains, pulls, to get up. "It's not working, there's something else wrong Brae. It's not pity, it's not fear, there's a thing Brae!"

I can't see her, I can't smell her, I can feel her, but, "You're... you're not really here, are you Brae? This is a fever dream, isn't it? It's all... all..."

Like Brae.

Expelled from the mother in that softskin way, but survived, thrived, because the intervention of others.

"There's always a thing, luv." are the Korite's words, and the footstep sounds different as it ventures closer, "Ya been hurt sore.... ya been changed, but y'ain't been stopped. Still got enough piss'n'vinegar in ya ta send me off after Junior. Still got enough heart ta trust me after... after what happened."

Gentle now, as the closing footfalls take on a sound familiar, but not heard for some time, "Worthy'nough soul, after ya tried ta kill me... I gave you my dreams, and set off to your word without question."

More sounds, faint scrapings against the floor as she crouches to fours before the palescale, "Always with ya, even when I ain't, sister. I'm tryin' ta show ya th'way, but ya need to look, Cryo... open your eyes..."

"I'm holding onto your dreams. I'll get you your dreams Brae." Cryosanthia says, feeling the hard copper circle, the dance of death. She can feel that.

She can feel Lily... no! Not there. Put it in the iceberg. Save it. For now, rebuild the tower one block at a time.

She can feel the bed beneath her, distant and dull. Her scales must be thicker now. There's a sharpness in her side, a burning sting, smaller. Pain and numbness in her tailtip and wing. They are being crushed. They are cracked. She can feel a weight blanketing her body, and warm patches along her spine.

Warm and cool at the same time, those are helping. Her breathing, slowly in, slowly out. The scent of tea, the worried scents of Sith, her cihuaa and her friend. The stink of her own despair.

This is her horrible, painful world.

She opens her eyes.

In the swim of opening eyes, the apparition muddled between the unfurling sheets of her eyelids, there is the mana lit gleam of her sister's lost chimaeralith form on her haunches, silver scales broken only by black hair, her wolfike eyes, and the jagged red split that trickles blood from her left ear; deerlike hooves, and one of two leonine paws holding her upright as her split, spaded tail(s) writhe behind her... with the other held out her way.

As the veils open completely, it is washed away with only an encouraging, "That's it...!" left behind.