Fall 45th, 511 AV
Alanys hissed softly as she slid her claw across her forearm, drawing blood and dripping it into the small offering bowl on her lap. As she filled it halfway, starting to grow light-headed, she placed her pale hand over it to stop it from bleeding as she maneuvred herself close to a length of white linen, releasing her arm just long enough to wrap the linen firmly around her forearm to stop herself from bleeding out. A few chimes later showed her that she would need to change the linen, as a scarlet stain soon began to bloom upon the pale bandage. It frustrated her that she couldn’t manage to stop the bleeding as quickly as the Priests to Viratas could, yet she accepted that she wasn’t able to because of her own limitations. She could understand she was limited in a way that the priests were not, but she couldn’t help but envy them.
Her ruby eyes turned to the innocuous bowl on her lap, it’s surface a rippling lake of scarlet almost the exact same shade as her eyes. She delicately lifted it, her wound aching uncomfortably as she moved her wrist, and placed it on the ground before her. Alanys knew her luck was great to be able to find a secluded area in the Garden of No Return during the night, but not because people frequented it. It seemed that Alvadas liked to place the House of Broken Mirrors in front of her every evening at sporadic intervals, as though trying to coax her into it. Rarely had she ever been allowed to glimpse the Garden after Syna set. It was as though Alvadas was being stingy.
Next, Alanys drew forth from her tightly wound strip clothing a small red book written in the graceful script of Symenestra priests. The Viratassa was the one thing in the entire world that Alanys would never part with. It was the word of her God, copied by a Priest once as Viratas dictated it to him. Alanys lifted the book and gently pressed her lips to the cover, her dark red eyes lowered and gleaming with the heady intoxication of blood loss. A Sweet Whisper could sound without the use of djed, she figured as she opened her book and began to read the words of Viratas in her native tongue, her eyes drooping lower and lower as she began to recite now from memory.
With a great yawn, Alanys allowed herself to put down the book and lay back, closing her eyes to Zintila’s glittering mess above her. Once, she had believed that Viratas dictated his word to his priest in a dream. She sought the to prove that her once childish belief was true.
Long ruby eyes opened into a mess of a world littered with objects that just couldn’t make sense. Words from a myriad of languages, some Common and Symenos yet more in a language she couldn’t even begin to fathom, twisted their way through her mind and into nothingness, forgotten so the next sentence or phrase could take their place. She couldn’t explain where she was, or why she was even there, but as she began to ponder this her surroundings shifted. Wolves and bats began to swim around her as though she were underwater, spiders with long white legs and fiery eyes crawled across a wall that wasn’t there, and a strange red and white flower was seeded, cultivated, blossomed, and flowered in a repetitive cycle.
Alanys was in Nysel’s realm, although she didn’t know, trapped in a dream she couldn’t explain. She couldn’t remember what she was doing before, and like most dreams, what was happening around her was merely reality.
OOCA mod can come along and post here, give my Sym a funtastical adventure! I would love for PCs to come along and play with Alanys as well, maybe help her identify herself. Anything is perfect! Come along!