[Kit] What Dreams May Come

[Orion Michaels]

89th Day of Summer, 513 AV Dreamscapes 1st Bell Tossing and turning, tossing and turning. Gods, it was too much. Why? Why was this happening? It wasn't fair, oh how it wasn't fair. Why did she disappear? Why were there kids appearing from no where? It was all too much. Orion opened his eyes to an unfamiliar scene. Rows and rows of stone buildings, identical, dilapidated, cold. Everything was so subdued and dark. Orion's vision felt..weak. Colors weren't nearly as bright as they once were. To top it off, a dense fog had rolled through this foreign land. Wave after wave of obscuring mists rolled through, reinforcing the greys and whites upon themselves. It was disorienting and disconcerting, to say the least. Orion lay upon the cold, earthen ground, taking slow, deep breathes as he tried to orient himself with his surroundings. None of it was familiar. None of it meant a thing. Orion closed his right hand around the dirt, gritty and chilly in his grasp. "Where am I?" Leaning up a seated position, Orion let the dirt sift through his fingers, it falling to the ground with our so much as a sound. Everything felt so distant, despite a seemingly infinite number of buildings surrounding him. Everything was wrong. He'd never been here before. "Is anyone there?" The squire rose to his feet, biting his lip nervously as he scanned the area. There was no reply. The only sound was the echo of his own voice. Not a breeze, not a footstep. Shaking his head, he stepped forward, looking around for anyone who could give him any idea of what was going on. He passed building after building, trying to examine each of them as he passed, but there was little to help him figure it out. The structures were completely smooth, no doors, no windows, no anything. Each and every one was identical. "What is going on...?"

[Kit Rowan]

Slap—slap—slap went the sound of bare feet on soft ground, bringing up clouds of not-dust in its wake. Slap—slap—slap went Kit's feet as she ran down empty gray streets in an empty gray world. The moisture steeped between her toes with every running step, though she did not slip. “HELLO?” She called out into the mists.

“HELLO?” It echoed back. “Hello, hello . . .”

“Where's the way out?” She screeched frustration, her stance wide, hands balled into little fists at her side. Her hair had lost its distinctive red, her skin bled away to a whitish gray, her clothes muted and utterly unremarkable. Only the mark of her god was the same, an intricate triangle in azure flipped upside down on her left forearm, but in all others she had been robbed of color. “WHERE!?”

“WHERE! Where, where . . .”

To Kit, it seemed like it was mocking her. She growled, ran her nails over her colorless face. Nothing happened. She stomped her feet on the ground and screamed a long, wordless note into the mist. Nothing happened. It echoed back.

What would Ionu think what would Ionu think what would Ionu think if they saw her drained of color and life and everything like this? What did they think when they looked down on their servant and saw her fumbling blindly through the mist like some witless child? She had to get out. Had to get out!

"There? There, there . . . "

Kit's ears perked, her head tilted toward where she had heard the sound. It was something new, something with texture and difference in this world of gray monotony. She chased the echo's source ran through a gray mist that coalesced around her like a wall till she broke through on the other side, and found a gray man.

He was easily a head and change taller than her, with eyes that rang so clearly of color that they took her breathe away in this broken world. She stared at him, looked over the only other thing she had seen here, her breathing coming out in little gray puffs.

And, startlingly, found herself at a loss for what to say.
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[Orion Michaels]

Orion took off running. It's all he could think of to do. No one had answered his pleading. No one had heard his cries. There was no way he could get anything done just by standing around. This strange land, he couldn't stay here. Wet, grey drops of water kicked up as his feet in the ground, a silent desperation visible in his movements. He'd ignore the panic. He'd ignore the fear. All the color was gone. He was alone. Frustration wouldn't get him anywhere, right? Being scared wouldn't do anything, right? "For petches sake! Is anyone there?! The returning of his own echo only made everything worse. He balled his fists up as he continued off down the ceaseless paths. He had to find someone. Anyone. Anything. That's when he saw her. Eyes so pure and blue, a mark just as so. In that moment she was the most beautiful person he'd ever lain eyes upon. Perfect, beautiful color. Without thinking he was after her. He'd made visual contact with her, and he had to close the distance, close the gap. Yet, something was wrong. With every step he took it felt like he was getting further away. "Hey! You!" He hoped his words would reach her, even if his feet couldn't. "Are you okay? I've been wondering around here for what feels like forever!" Could they even hear him? He finally came to a stop when the distance between them had grown several dozen feet, despite him moving towards her. "I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON!" He shouted to the world itself, to the jokes it wanted to play, to the confusion he felt. It was cruel. Turning his attention back to the stranger with the perfect blue eyes, he shouted, a little more controlled. "Can you move any closer to me? I'm getting..pushed away from you."

[Kit Rowan]

"I'm okay," Kit breathed, grinning wide. Someone else! And his eyes! She saw color in them, the first spot of color excepting the blue of her god's gift that she had seen since falling into this wretched world. "I dunno how long I—" Kit stopped frowned as he stepped toward her. It was a surreal sight; his feet were going one way, but his body was going the other, the curious mechanics that subverted his footfalls concerned by the mist that swirled below their feet. "No," Kit said, something sharp crawling into her voice. "NonononoNO!" This world did not get to dangle life and color in front of her and rob her of it like some kitten teased with fish at the market.

"Don't. MOVE!" Kit held up both her hands, hoping to get the message stop across loud enough to hear, verbal or otherwise. Kit took a cautious step forward, on the look out for more curious reverse locomotion as she did so. She saw nothing out of the ordinary, grinned a triumphant grin. "I'll come to you!" Kit took off at a run through the mists, clearing the distance between them fast. She'd almost cleared the halfway point when she felt something cold and iron around her ankle.

It wasn't gentle, either. It pulled her back as she ran, her eyes getting big before she collapsed to the ground into the mists with a soft squeak. There was a soft, metalic shifting like the many links of a chain pulling, and Kit felt herself dragged backwards. Kit recognized the cold iron on her ankle for what it was; a manacle closed tight. "Gods damn it!" Kit screamed at nothing in particular, digging her hands into soft earth to slow the chain's pull. Every time she got close to something, anything she wanted, there was always something. Always something; She'd been so close! "Gods damn it all!"
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[Orion Michaels]

Orion complied with the young woman's command. There was no sense in doing anything that would send them further apart. She was a stranger, but in this moment, in this foreign land, she the best friend he could hope for. They'd have to work together in order to figure out just what was going on. A relieved sigh escaped his lips when she was able to move towards him, unblocked by whatever hex prevented him from moving. "Thank the gods," Orion said, waiting for this stranger to get to him. They could figure this out, he was sure. Only . . . suddenly she wasn't getting closer. Suddenly they weren't going to meet face to face. Out of the mists, out of the darkness a shackle came and trapped her leg. Fear gripped at Orion's emotion as he took a step towards her, but it only seemed to accelerate her capture, the blue eyed girl falling to the ground and sliding back to where she was. What horrible world were they in? What had they done to deserve such punishment? She'd been so close, and now she was further away than she was before. "Try and keep calm! We'll figure this out! We have to." Orion paced back and forth, his eyes and head darting all over the area trying to find something, anything they could use. "I'm Orion! I'm from Syliras, and I have no idea how I got here! You have any insight?" Orion shouted at the girl as he stepped over to one of the structures, touching it gently with his index finger before quickly withdrawing it. It was warm . . . "How odd . . ," he muttered, turning his gaze back to the other. "I've got no petching idea what's going on." He balled up his fists and walked over to the next formation, again placing his hand on it. The same disturbing warmth met his touch. Orion's brow furrowed as he pulled his hand back again. [b]"Are you hurt? What's that chain attached - Oh shyke!" She was still being dragged. He was so focused on the surroundings, he'd failed to notice she was not only trapped, but sliding further away. He took off towards her, but just like the time before, it simply accelerated the increasing of distance between them. "GODS DAMN IT!" Orion fell to his knees, slamming his fists against the soft earth. "What the petch am I supposed to do!?" He screamed up at the sky, as though something would actually reply. They were alone here. Just Him, her, and the mist. "This is unreal.." He watched helplessly as the only other person in the world slid further and further from him. The despair which followed was suffocating. Would this be the end of their days?

[Kit Rowan]

"Calm," Kit spat. "CALM?! How'll that help at all? Petch calm!" She scratched at the soft earth, trying to crawl forward, to at least hold in place and still, STILL failing as the ground gave way, leaving clawing marks in the cold earth as she was dragged, dragged away from the one living thing in this wide, terrible petching wasteland.

The chain's tug was . . . Not constant. It had a pattern. Pull rest pull pull rest pull . . . Someone was pulling the chain, Kit thought. Someone was dragging her back, and her expression was one of fear and hate and horror. She was free, free at last. Why did the world insist on trying, always trying to seize her?

"What do you do?!" Kit growled. She released her hold on the group and flipped over, and the chain dragged her further, still on her back. Kit snarled, dug her feet into the loose ground and snarled "ANYTHING!" And this time, she was the one who yanked.

There was a great sound, like a foghorn but louder, closer, so deep the whole of the world seemed to rattle all around her.
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