A Crisis of Dreams
52nd of Fall, 516 AV
Eighteenth Bell
52nd of Fall, 516 AV
Eighteenth Bell
It didn’t take long for the flames at the edges of Aislyn’s vision to become much more. Burning slips of paper, sticking to the walls and floor. No one else seemed to notice it but her and yet soon the whole building would soon go up in flames. Still, they continued chatting on, distantly muttering something about a Miss Craven and an outside, whatever that was. Oh, but Craven, she knew that name. Then another voice came out, the voice of the woman, the one that had drugged her. Madeira. Madeira Craven. Blinking at the scene in front of her, the illusionist watched the woman get up and at once she knew Aislyn had to follow her.
Feverishly, Aislyn held onto two things as she tried to escape the burning tomb. The first was her backpack, the canteen abandoned in the corner of the room. The second was Thief, the invisibility flickering out of existence as the layers of illusion were peeled back and forgotten. For a moment, Aislyn attempted to stand, before failing, falling back to her knees as her hand crushed a burning slip of paper under her palm. She recoiled immediately, fearful of the burn. It stuck to her palm, taunting her. It was a tarot card- the thirteenth trump; death.
Pushing herself to her feet, Aislyn drunkenly stumbled forward, looking around her. There were small cards everywhere now, all burning but only a few recognizable. Death, the magician, and the fool. The fool, the fool, the fool. There were so many fools.
Everything would be fine, Aislyn had told herself, but Aislyn knew little of the drugs of the Unnamye. That being said, she knew one thing well, and that was that mixing drugs was never a terribly good idea. Yet there she was, an illusionist losing her grasp on reality with the effects of one drug taking its toll on her as she overdosed on another. A full dose of Sirencestine and another of Dew. Aislyn was as delirious as she was frightened as she reached the doorway of the burning building. She really was a fool, wasn’t she?
Once outside, she slung her bag over one arm, briefly assessing the surroundings before chasing after Madiera. She didn’t have to move terribly fastly, nor terribly far, and soon she was upon the woman.
”You.” Her left hand grasped the shoulder of the woman, her right at her side, still limply brandishing the knife she had yet to sheath. ”You- Miss Craven- I know the Cravens. I fought with the Cravens.” Aislyn still felt angry, but at the current moment she couldn't concentrate on the anger that pulled at her chest, at this woman- at what she had done, at her lies- it took the majority of her ability to remain focused on Thief, to keep her in existence. The rest of her focus went to producing coherent sentences without falling apart. ”The woman, and the man, and the twins with the- the shields of light.”
Darkness bit at the edge of her vision. She had no idea what this ‘Dew’ substance was meant to do, exactly, but whatever it was certainly didn’t mix well with what Aislyn had already been drinking. Her head felt like a migraine in physical form, her vision blurring at assorted moments in time like her mind was a beach and the headache the waves, slowly eroding her away. She felt like hell. She hadn’t even considered the fact that she had just seemingly reappeared after disappearing into thin air.
”I- took notes. I know.” Through her migraine, Aislyn remembered the Cravens; the ones that had come down from their grand castle to fight alongside the common people of Alvadas during the Winter War. The ones that had suddenly produced some ungodly witchcraft Aislyn could hardly describe as she had watched them from afar, writing as much as she could with what time she could given the apocalypse surrounding her. She’d watched them fight against the hordes, and had taken a particular interest in watching them tear apart their opponents, both living and dead. They were merciless. They were powerful. And they looked nothing like the pale, sunken, red-eyed girl that Aislyn wanted nothing more than to run through with a knife. The Cravens, with their ungodly ways, had fought for Alvadas. This girl poisoned a stranger out of spite. ”But you don't- you can't- you are no Craven.”
OOCI have just realized I have been spelling ‘Unnamye’ incorrectly as ‘Unnayme’ this entire thread thus far, including in the actual title of the thread (which I will now proceed to edit). Gah.
Feverishly, Aislyn held onto two things as she tried to escape the burning tomb. The first was her backpack, the canteen abandoned in the corner of the room. The second was Thief, the invisibility flickering out of existence as the layers of illusion were peeled back and forgotten. For a moment, Aislyn attempted to stand, before failing, falling back to her knees as her hand crushed a burning slip of paper under her palm. She recoiled immediately, fearful of the burn. It stuck to her palm, taunting her. It was a tarot card- the thirteenth trump; death.
Pushing herself to her feet, Aislyn drunkenly stumbled forward, looking around her. There were small cards everywhere now, all burning but only a few recognizable. Death, the magician, and the fool. The fool, the fool, the fool. There were so many fools.
Everything would be fine, Aislyn had told herself, but Aislyn knew little of the drugs of the Unnamye. That being said, she knew one thing well, and that was that mixing drugs was never a terribly good idea. Yet there she was, an illusionist losing her grasp on reality with the effects of one drug taking its toll on her as she overdosed on another. A full dose of Sirencestine and another of Dew. Aislyn was as delirious as she was frightened as she reached the doorway of the burning building. She really was a fool, wasn’t she?
Once outside, she slung her bag over one arm, briefly assessing the surroundings before chasing after Madiera. She didn’t have to move terribly fastly, nor terribly far, and soon she was upon the woman.
”You.” Her left hand grasped the shoulder of the woman, her right at her side, still limply brandishing the knife she had yet to sheath. ”You- Miss Craven- I know the Cravens. I fought with the Cravens.” Aislyn still felt angry, but at the current moment she couldn't concentrate on the anger that pulled at her chest, at this woman- at what she had done, at her lies- it took the majority of her ability to remain focused on Thief, to keep her in existence. The rest of her focus went to producing coherent sentences without falling apart. ”The woman, and the man, and the twins with the- the shields of light.”
Darkness bit at the edge of her vision. She had no idea what this ‘Dew’ substance was meant to do, exactly, but whatever it was certainly didn’t mix well with what Aislyn had already been drinking. Her head felt like a migraine in physical form, her vision blurring at assorted moments in time like her mind was a beach and the headache the waves, slowly eroding her away. She felt like hell. She hadn’t even considered the fact that she had just seemingly reappeared after disappearing into thin air.
”I- took notes. I know.” Through her migraine, Aislyn remembered the Cravens; the ones that had come down from their grand castle to fight alongside the common people of Alvadas during the Winter War. The ones that had suddenly produced some ungodly witchcraft Aislyn could hardly describe as she had watched them from afar, writing as much as she could with what time she could given the apocalypse surrounding her. She’d watched them fight against the hordes, and had taken a particular interest in watching them tear apart their opponents, both living and dead. They were merciless. They were powerful. And they looked nothing like the pale, sunken, red-eyed girl that Aislyn wanted nothing more than to run through with a knife. The Cravens, with their ungodly ways, had fought for Alvadas. This girl poisoned a stranger out of spite. ”But you don't- you can't- you are no Craven.”
OOCI have just realized I have been spelling ‘Unnamye’ incorrectly as ‘Unnayme’ this entire thread thus far, including in the actual title of the thread (which I will now proceed to edit). Gah.
