The Warren (Wrenmae)

[Ignotus Everto]

3rd of Fall, 512AV
Recovering Ichor in Zeltiva...

The first thing Ignotus was aware of was lying face-down on a cold, unnaturally smooth surface. The second thing he was aware of as his eyes fluttered open was the glossy, jet black floor. The third was that he wasn't a Nuit any more. His skin was fair and slightly ruddy, and his eyes were green and his hair dirty blonde again. That wasn't the only thing that was a return to the old. His limbs were short and thin, and his torso short and stocky. He was, as it seemed, himself at twelve years old again.

Slowly propping himself up again, he found himself wearing the simple overalls and rough cotton shirt that the impoverished sailors of Zeltiva were. He was in a small room shaped like a perfect cube, with unmarked walls, floor and ceiling, all made of the same material. In the dead center of one of the walls was a simple, old oak door. Without looking at any other part of the room, he walked up to it. A miniscule plaque just above the frame read in simple, carved letters,

"Hello Igon."

The Hypnotist's throat constricted at that. Igon. That was his name a long time ago. He wasn't yet aware he was in a dream, though he was also fairly certain he wasn't dead or in any sort of prison... Where was he, then? Another plaque right next to the one with Ignotus' true name caught the boy's, though he had to squint to read what it said...

[Wrenmae]

Recorded: The Warren post.mp3

No dream will seem to break with reality, till the sleeper reaps what he sows in totality. No Chavi splinters sharp, merging is formality. No words spoken are warped except within duality.

So listen if you can.

So I can lay down a scene.

He pops and locks the shortness of his limbs. He's all knees, elbows, scrapes, cuts and then those...bumps, he acquired from the street. Like a second hand dealer of copper miza times, he gambles low with his gravity, centered on a dream and a brush with brutality. He learned his lessons taught in pain.

Nowadays he haunts the alleys, a too small ghost in too tall clothes clammboring for those who have a coin to spare. His ideals are the stolen kind, pickpocket, cutpurse, scavenged, the way a street rat builds his rep.

Unknown.

Because alone is a word preferred, practiced, no expense deturred to remain in the learned condition,

Anonymity.

You can't straddle the straight and narrow with no kin. Vayt...saw fit to that. So he breathes the breeze of Alvadas, pleas for freedom without speaking and leaps the roofs without thinking.

Maybe, just maybe, he'll lose his curse in midair.

But no story starts so simple, no tale without its darkness and he fails the final jump, and falls with a lot less...than he started.

Bodies mark creschendos and shattered brick ends those who fall with ambition to kiss cobblestone.

Instead his bones make love to rooftops and land him in a cube.

Now let me rehash this scenario.


Two kids no bigger than half of a dream, in a cube too clean to be anything but sorcery. One door, one plaque and they act like trapped rats. All eyes and motion, suspicion and the notion to betray.

It's these two beings divided by the seams of time. One in life and one trapped in remembered vitality. Embraceing surreal tasting on the tongue palatte of their souls.

Only one question remains.

What directions do they read, act, learn, and proceed to make sense of senseless sensations.

To step forward, circle back to where you were before. The way is shut and will forevermore be barred, till death is life and life is death, and common grounds are reached to put old enmity to rest.

ooc :

The bold on the bottom is what is on the plaque. Didn't know if you wanted me to go ahead and do it Sorry if this is a bit strange, I wanted to do something different for the dream thread, at least at the beginning.

[Ignotus Everto]

"The petch?.." Ignotus's squeaky voice echoed throughout the room. Glancing to his right, he saw the equally little Wrenmae, and flinched. "Who're you?" he demanded. The boy's face was vaguely similar, but he couldn't quite match it to the Wave Guard shrouded in darkness that he had met inside the morgue.

In his less-than-mature state of body, even Wrenmae represented a large enough threat to react to. But when he tried to conjure even a pinprick's worth of Res, all he got was a slight smoking at his palm. He had no magic. He had no magic! Right. Be friendly. That was a good plan. Of course, there was also the question of their location. His brow furrowing, he reached out and rapped his knuckled once on the ebony wall. A sound akin to a prayer bell reverberated from the point of impact. "Where... Where are we?" the boy wondered worriedly, looking at his fellow. First, he needed some information. Once he had that, he could form a proper plan.

[Wrenmae]

Wrenmae had already passed the other boy, peering at the plaque and scratching his hairless chin. It was a habit, and even without the stubble to amuse his nails, it helped him focus.

Zan was not with him, not here, and a lot of what he remembered was foggy. Was he back in Alvadas? It had to be. He had been nowhere else at such a young age. Of course, it had to be. It explained the riddle, the door, the everything. It was only by degrees that Wrenmae became aware there was another person here. He had been so caught up in reading the sign that he'd momentarily forgotten about his presence.

"I'm Wren," Wrenmae said with a quick grin, "And I think we're in some sort of a room." Dashing to each corner, he knocked against the wall and laughed, "I may not be an investigator, but I believe we are indeed in a room. What I'm more concerned about is what that plaque means, what's behind the door, and what YOUR name is."

[Ignotus Everto]

Wren. Wren?
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me..."

Before he could gnash his teeth too much, he had the boy who was supposedly his magical superior knocking on the walls like a... Well, child, and stating the obvious. And of course, with a few questions. The first impulse of the green eyed boy was to tell him the name he had styled for himself as an adult. The one that he made specifically to distance himself from his heritage. However, the plaque did say to go back to where he was... He could at least play along.

"Igon." he replied, "And I'm not sure... What's behind the door is easy enough to answer, though."

And with that, he turned the handle on the peeling oak door and pushed it open, a creak and a shower of sunlight greeting the duo.

[Wrenmae]

The door did not swing open with a boom, but more with the soft sigh of vocal chords. Beyond them did not wait a scene they remembered individually, but one shared in conscious, conflicting Chavi.

The walls were lined with staircases, all winding into a city of shifting paradigms. At first the winding corridors of Alvadas were the primary attraction, twisting and turning walls of many-hued illusions. But the Zeltivan docks crept upon the Alvadan landscape, pieces of the sidewalk, entire roads snapping off and falling into the churning surf.

They stood in the midst of chaos.

"I hate dreams," Wrenmae muttered to himself, stepping forward over the threshold and down a set of stairs, "You never know how to wake up."

He tossed a grin back to the kid behind him and scuttled down the winding corridors, always prompting the boy to follow. "Well Igon, most dreams have a purpose, some shared idea or resolution they work towards. I don't know what your usual idea for this kind of situation is, but I like to find the problem, fix it, and get out of these shindigs as swiftly as possible. For me, that means finding the central point and the highest place. I know a tower that may be here. Follow me."

With that he continued on, never seeming to see that Igon's hands sometimes shifted, growing stiff and dead and then back to their vibrant life...never deciding, always changing, as if caught in the flux of past and present.

[Ignotus Everto]

A dream. The surreal mishmash of streets and corridors made a lot more sense now. Of course, Igon hadn't had a dream in more than thirty years, so it was helpful to have someone who was still familiar with how to wake up from one. Pride was something he could deal with later. For now... Well, a vantage point sounded like a good start. "All right..."

It was certainly a queer experience, having one's heart starting and stopping at random intervals, but at least it helped Ignotus keep a handle on where he was as far as time was concerned. Small consolation, considering what the boy had just seen on the horizon.

While he tapped Wrenmae on the shoulder to get his attention, it was hardly necessary. A faint rumble shook dust from the rooftops as the thing walked. It was a distant silhouette of a humanoid, except it was unlike any humanoid he had ever seen. It towered over its surroundings, measuring at least fifty feet. Its arms and legs were long and spindly, its torso was thick and round, and a tuft of shaggy hair sprouted from its head. Two luminous, milky yellow disks for eyes threw gigantic circles of light onto the streets, as if from two massive spotlights, and the earth shook with its every step.

Three others of a similar shape emerged from differing parts of the fused cities, huddling together for a moment before spreading out, apparently in search of something. Igon hoped it wasn't them.

Fortunately, they were in relative cover at the moment. An alley in Alvadas that seemed to be undergoing construction. Crates of nails and barrels of pitch were stacked against the walls of two indistinct windowed buildings, winches hoisting bags of bricks skyward were plentiful, and wood planks and sawdust covered the ground, along with quite a few carpenter's tools. The only thing missing was the workers.

Almost. A single bloated corpse was lying face-down in a puddle of vomit smack in the middle of the street, a dozen or so rats feasting on its entrails. As the boys entered the street, one of them stood on its hind legs and looked up. It was a hideous thing, with matted brown fur, burning scarlet eyes, and broken, sickly yellow teeth. Its snout was covered in blood.

It stared at them for a couple ticks, then leapt off the cadaver, raced towards Wrenmae, and tried to bite his leg. Almost immediately afterwards, the rest of the rats followed the lead of the first, abandoning their rotting meal for fresher prey... The two children. More rodents poured out of cracks and crevices in the walls, and soon the pair had a fair sized swarm on their hands.

Igon hopped and stamped and yelped and swore, but it was obvious that the two of them weren't going to last very long if they didn't do something. Igon's eyes lit upon a tall pyramid of crates. Tall enough for the two of them to clamber on with ease enough, but too high for the rats to reach. The only problem was that the brunt of the horde was standing between them and the pile.

[Wrenmae]

Wrenmae aimed a kick at the first of the snarling vermin, catching it on the tip of its ugly snout and sending it flipping away. He didn't take long to see the piled boxes and as the rest of the rats began to surround them, he grabbed hold of Igon's hand and raced to the solemn stacks. Leaping the first and clamboring up the second, he pulled Igon away from the jaws of the creatures. Unfortunately, crates never stopped a rat and they simply began scrambling after the boys, gnarled claws grasping the warped wood for leverage as they hurled themselves up.

They reminded him of the disease carriers, the vermin he'd seen in Alvadas when he stayed.

It sent a tremor of sorrow and fear through him.

And the rats grew.

Once simply abnormally large, now they held the size of a small dog, more vicious and angry than before. Hissing his surprise, Wrenmae leaped up another box, scrabbling to pull himself away. He almost forgot Igon, lagging behind by just a bit.

Grasping his arm, Wrenmae hurled both of them over the crates and onto a roof, rolling to his feet and beckoning Igon follow him. Spotlight eyes crossed the roof of the building and both boys veered to avoid its path, worried about what stepping in that puddle of light might mean. As the rats came on, hungry and slavering, Wrenmae reached the lip of the roof and hurled himself over it.

"JUMP!" He yelled back to Igon, barely making the leap to crash against the lip of the next building, grasping for a hold and throwing himself over the top.

He lay there, panting, his whole body fuzzy from adrenaline.

Could you be killed in dreams?

Could you die?

These weren't answers he had considered before...and after the rats, he didn't want to find out.

[Ignotus Everto]

Evidently, Wrenmae was a great deal more daring than Igon was. While he wouldn't have dared to attempt to wade through the sea of slavering jaws, he bounded past them in minutes. And he didn't forget him. That in and of itself was strange to Igon. However, now was not the time for thinking. Now was the time for running from terrier sized rats. It didn't help that the boy was still sporadically shifting back to undeath, which, while useful for turning off the rats to a degree, left him even more frail and sluggish than normal.

When the eyes swept over their roof, Igon chanced a glance upwards, and saw... Something strange. The giant who the eyes belonged to wore similar clothes to him, but its face was quite a bit different. The tuft of hair on its head was jet black, and it had an ugly, stupid face. It was a grotesquely deformed and engorged version of a sailor's child. One of the larger and more aggressive ones from his youth. Luckily, the two boys managed to escape its notice, and it lumbered off into another part of the warren.

Then it was time to jump. Igon was never an athletic person. Indeed, he was asthmatic. His fingers barely managed to catch hold of a storm drain jutting out from the edge of the roof, before they turned grey and dead again, and one of his hands slipped. By chance, a suspended bag of bricks caught his notice, and with a heave he threw himself onto the less-than-soft perch, taking a moment to stuff a few of the clay building blocks into his pockets before pulling himself onto the roof with Wren. The rats, in the meantime, had caught up with them. Most of the beasts were loath to leave terra firma, but one of them, slightly sleeker than the rest, leapt towards them to continue the chase, enroute to land on the prone Wrenmae...

Before a brick struck the beast in the ribs and sent them both falling to earth with a crunch and crumble. Igon was standing doubled over with his hands on his knees, wheezing like a senior, another two bricks jutting out of his pockets.

The others balked temporarily at the demise of one of their own, but it wasn't long before they were screeching and spitting again, looking for a way to cross. Igon didn't know how long they had before their animal pursuers found one, and he didn't want to stay and learn. Wrenmae was still recovering, and if he wanted to be honest with himself, Igon wasn't feeling much better. It would have been easy to abandon him. To leave him as something to tide the rats over while he made his esacape. And yet...

Wren had saved his life. Sure, it was a dream, but it was real enough to mean something to him. If not to repay him, it was simply good reasoning to bring him along in case he was needed again. Pulling Wren to his feet with a soft groan, Igon passed him two bricks and continued down the rooftop, towards a section of Zeltiva's docks.

[Wrenmae]

Igon supported Wrenmae, both hobbling down the twisting roads toward the waterfront. Above them, monsters with searchlight eyes sought what Wren could only assume was them. Strangely tossed together, they were working as one.

But Igon did not seem to have his heart in it. There was a reluctance to him that was hard to miss with the keen observational ability Wrenmae possessed. Till now, the boy had chosen to say nothing, but as they reached the docks where ships bobbed on the air itself, Wrenmae surged forward, pushing Igon against a wall and pressed his face in close, dark eyes flashing.

"I don't know who you are, but you seem to know me...at least a bit. I don't know how to wake up from these nightmares, only that if we don't....we could die here. Yeah. Die in a dream. It's possible. So we need to pool our resources and find out what the dream wants of us...how to survive."

The shrieking of the rats rose in the distance and Wrenmae hissed.

"Now, Igon. Tell me what you know about me...NOW!."