Gardens Under Ice.

[Albireo]

Weißer Mond, so voll und rund Trommeln geben es nun kund Voller Mond, befleckt mit Blut Und die Luft, sie brennt vor Wut… Krieg im Garten Eden by Himmelsbiester Credits Spring 44, 512 AV With a loud clack the door shut behind, causing a jump of flesh and heartbeat. An empty backpack dropped to the floor, but the noise of her shoes drowned its thump. Whirlwinds of dark fabric and silken hair crossed the room and sank on the wood in front of her bed. It was cold, yet not as cold as she remembered. Cheeks were hot and wet as her hands touched them and rubbed colored eyes. Chaos was in the rainbow reflecting her inner life to the outside; the colors didn’t settle down. Sooner or later gravity forced them into submission though. Like leaves shivering in heartless winds, they came to rest to her feet. And a confused temper found silence in the realms of sleep far, far away. ~ White and white and white. The landscape, it didn’t even deserve that word, stretched out in front of her, behind her and to both sides: endless fields of snow and ice. Her face was looking towards a settlement in the distance and her feet took first steps towards it without waiting for a conscious decision. Fragmented limbs, home to a fragmented mind? During the journey, she discovered her body, the flesh and bones of a full-blooded Vantha. No melancholic core, no feelings higher than words. Everything inside her was right, was formed of tales spun in the past. The ancient storyteller. After a stretch of time, whether few minutes or long hours she couldn’t tell, ice gates opened before her presence. Silence and empty streets greeted her. Shrugging, she continued. Something was pulling her inward, further and further, and her bare feet painted tracks into innocent snow. The cold was embracing olive skin, yet never sank into flesh or bone. Delicate ice balconies and proud towers sang a silent welcome hymn. The Queen protected her like She always had. Didn’t She…? Near the garden of naked trees and sculptures of cool beauty she stopped for a moment. Something was tugging at her heartstrings, something inside. Windward Boardwalk. The words raised nameless questions. She walked past, fled towards safer places. Then Mirror Lake. Still the surroundings were deserted, the northern population wiped out by a secret code she couldn’t decipher, a call she hadn’t heard. Approaching the edge, she gazed into the ice. Like water it reflected a sweet face and almond eyes, the ever-changing Vantha eyes. They radiated blue flowers and violet lightning. Deep down masses of water were trapped, never stirring, always quiet. Too quiet? Smoothing the fabric of her dress, black silk and hem above the knee, she turned and faced the small hut several feet away. A wooden table and two seats stood in front of the lodge, a cup resting on its plate. Steam rose into cold air, carrying the promise of hot tea. But Savina Coolwater was nowhere to be seen. One, two steps towards the table. Nothing happened. Had another Vantha left to skate and abandoned their cup? Despite the signs – or absence of them – she hesitated. The cup held warm temptations, yet emanated darkness. Instinct held her back. What to do when nobody was to take the decision from her?

[Volans]

The long day had brokered a respite over the false vantha, a peace that was readily accepted. The shop was shuttered, the door locked and the cards tucked away. His master had long since retreated to her own bedroom for something or other she needed to do. He did not question; he was more than happy to be by himself. This seemed to be a new thing with him, a distance that didn't exist in no place but his heart, a distance that could ony be spanned by her touch and none other. An old pain, and one easily waylaid. He had been content enough to sit there in that cold front room waiting for the curious and the brave to enter the obscure dwelling, but no longer. His humble wood door protested as it was flung open and closed shut again, but at that point he didn't really care. Fatigue had deadened his senses to a world, and he was blind to everything but the bed thrust up against the far wall. As he settled beneath his covers, he couldn't help but wonder what tonight would bring him. It was always something new, something fleeting, something never totally understood. He didn't know why, but he thought tonight would be different. I'm coming... A beat, two, and another mind had been dipped into the ether. --- White. It was the color of purity, but the snow before him seemed sinister as opposed to pure. It dipped and spun, a field of spun glass that covered everything in a pale sheen so easily confused for nothingness. Firs, proud and green, waited beside him as he stood, and fire gleamed in the whiteness before him. Something about the lights stirred him. Could it be?... Home. An unknown frame carried him there. The lake was not easily forgot, but its name remained vanished from the man's mind. His name itself was likewise gone. A gaze was spared on his olive skin, and something about it clicked. Not a name, but a title...Suvanite? No – Icewatch. Of course. The Queen's frozen waters. Mirror Lake. Oiled chain mail jostled as he made his way forward, his eye on a particular hut. Something was missing. A friend, perhaps? No. More than a friend, a mount, a bondmate. Where was Lorri? No matter. He still advanced on the house, feet crushing secrets and snow beneath. He was not surprised to see someone there, though it was a bit strange there was only one. She waited on the door mantle, a vision of ebony and chestnut, hair straight and black and perfect. He drew near, and a glance provided him with – for just the shortest minute – a face. He stopped. He could only stare. For a moment, that was all he could do. A heart beat faster but its cause remained unknown. Who was this woman? And why did she matter so much to him? His body supplied an answer, but his mind rejected it. It hung by the tip of a tongue, there but not fully realized. For a moment longer memory fought with reason. And then, stark words were spent on one frosty breath - “Who are you?” Something like thunder rumbled above.

[Albireo]

The difference between her bare feet and his shoes made for ice and snow spanned a whole lifetime. Standing near the hut, she was waiting for the arrival of a savior. Did he know if the cup was safe? Fear from the future mingled with her dream self, confusing time and space until even the dream master didn’t know what was what anymore. If such a person existed. The sound faded and the snow released golden eyes into a familiar rainbow gaze. Man of the north, violet aurora in his hair. No light, no light... and never a name. Why was no name assigned to that rugged face? Clouds collided above and her head shot up. Fear lingered at the recesses of the present, neither as almighty nor as controlling as in the body under the stars though, and trembled on fingertips as a hand rose to point at him. “Make it stop.” No more left her lips, shining with the consequences of danger looming over both of them. Her arms rose to include everything, the thunder above, the ominous cup of tea, the lake, the snow. Never had she wanted to lose any of it. However, even though his name had slipped through cracks of memory, instinct said that he held more control over the scenery, that discipline allowed him to think at least.

[Volans]

Confusion, dark and murky, rumbled as loud as the thunder overhead. “What?” the nameless man asked, his green-red-blue eyes reaching out to his equally nameless counterpart. The dream was so sweet, he couldn't possibly accept the falseness hiding beneath the snow. The dream...no, it was more than a dream. Willpower turned it into more than that. It wasn't just a dream, no; it was a want. But, as ever, he was far too eager to please. “I...I can try.” he acquiesced, and he licked his lips. He tried, tried to stop, to change something so as to please the storyteller of the north before him. But this, this was madness. He was a guardsman, not a mage. He couldn't do anyt...but wait, what was that? Auroral blood beat a steady tempo as he straightened up and turned to look. But it was not something he could see, but hear. A song. Yes, that was it, a song, indistinct yet somehow familiar. Where did it come from? Must have been the city, a thought decided, but he wasn't sure. It seemed to call from all directions, just out of reach, pulsing beneath the frost. It had something to do with it, he realized. The dream's heartbeat. He concentrated on that melody, and hard. Something of his future self, unaware, reached down to infect this construct of days long past. Of course. The sky belongs to those who can look up, and below there is only the lie. The rhythm skipped, the shackles of craved ignorance were thrown off, and something changed. “I see,” the nameless man breathed, and a hand wove towards the hut. “T-there was not anything I could stop, my lady, so...I changed it.” It was more an apology, the phrasing rough and the words misused, than it was an explanation. Anxious rainbow eyes cut upwards to find a reaction. For now instead of one teacup, there were two.

[Albireo]

Sound rippled through flesh as cold and numb as the landscape all around. Just like the man’s (unknown yet not so foreign) her head spun around, up, down to find a source. However, it came from all directions, same volume. Vibrating on her skin, breathing into her lungs. Then it turned into heartbeat like drums from the heavens and under thick ice, albeit softer than thunder. Earthy. The aurora borealis in her eyes changed with it and his did the same. Then her gaze settled and flowed in the direction of his wave. My lady. Words were noted, yet no reply uttered. Would she have to dig deeper, beyond snow and frozen earth to find the secret tugging at her? But the hut had lost its gloom and the pair of cups welcomed both travelers now. A step, and two. Cold flesh and bones in thin fabric were rustling against wood while olive hands closed around the cup: solid heat. The Goddess’ presence faded as it washed over her. Would he join? But after a moment or two she rose. Whispers in unspeakable languages pushed towards the ice mass stretching endlessly. Her eyes shone blue: calm, collected, they said. For the first time soft lips touched the cup and opened to hot liquid. The rich aroma of fruit filled her mouth. Gaze lingering on the other Vantha, she mused: “We must belong here and together, otherwise this wouldn’t have formed. I’ve a hole in me though and I don’t know how to mend it...” Crude words, marching forth like stick soldiers. So the bizarre had stolen her ability! What was a storyteller if she couldn’t wield her words anymore? Eyes widened and her hands’ grip loosened. Was caught before it shattered though. “Does it matter?” she asked no one in particular. And bent down by the lake to watch the liquid burn its way into the ice. Only half of the cup she poured, cherry blossoms under frozen memories – yet the ice resonated with a loud crack. Almost as eerie as the hut under lightning. Flaming gaze was searching for his, the colors in them. What had she done? “I didn’t know... Will there be blood again?” Black circles in her vision and words spoken in half-delirium. Logic and reason revolted while foreboding guided the storyteller’s tongue, or was it the past? “Who are you?” she pleaded, but powerful cracks drowned the shaking voice and spread over Mirror Lake’s vast expanse.

[Whimsy]

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Experience Award

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Albireo

Exp
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Lores
The Obscurity of Dreams
The Familiarity of Dreams

Comments
You two are both beautiful writers. A pity the strangeness of the dreams couldn't continue to unfold. If Volens returns, he may PM me for his lores. PM me if you have any questions.