reunite with me

The wind howled throughout the eve, and their raspy breathes spoke volumes unto the earth. It was a bitter night, in both temperature and delusion. The shaman had run rampant in the dreams, minds, and thoughts of those whom he encountered, but no answers were left in his wake.


What was this relic? What significance did it hold?
What on earth did it resemble? Does it even exist?

In the fevered landscape buried within the depths of a sleeping mind, it spoke. But who was it - she - he? The shaman? A god? Tempus himself? "Bring yourself to me," hissed between tight teeth. There was no anger, just anxious need captured within the sanctity of a dream.

The visions would be bright within Rostislav's mind, startling. The dream - or was it a nightmare? - brought cold sweats with it. There was no denying its message; but whatever the outcome would be, was uncertain. 

---

Should he choose to follow it, the vision would lead him to the very tips of Veneror Peak. The day's sunlight brings warmth, but even at the northern-most peak of the worshiping mountains, the air would nip at skin like the insistent teeth of a herding dog. Or hellhound. Whichever fits, really.

The restlessness caused by the dream may even manifest in the form of panic, sending him up the mountain much quicker than he thought his legs could take him. The trek up the mountain would prove arduous and draining, leaving Rostislav aching in areas of his body he did not know could ache.

The shaman, ever tricky and cruel in his ways, had given the drunkard stallion nothing to offer at the top of the worshiping mountain. But that didn't matter anymore.

---

Should he? Would he? Where is he?

Once in sight of Veneror's cathedral, he would forget the grueling, backbreaking journey. He would forget the aching muscles, the heaving lungs, the soaked skin, his throbbing skull. Silence would envelop him, caught like a whirlwind in his throat. Are you even breathing anymore?


What was once lost has now been found.

Tucked in the corner of the spiraling stone pillars of the clearing, the ivy cradled her. The hellhound, lying prone on her right side and nape rested against the base of a massive stone pillar, sprawled peacefully amongst the rock. The ivy that encapsulated the vast pillars overtook the hellhound like a blanket, loosely weaving through the superficial top layer of her fur - but never constricting. Instead, it provided protection; those who sought the hound yet were not hers were met with an impenetrable blanket that dug deep into the ground, rooting Damaris into place. But once the intruders would leave the sacred land, the ivy would recede - its tight grip transforming once more into a gentle caress. Throughout it all, Damaris' green eyes remained closed, her chest rising and falling with a deep slumber. Like the ivy, she only awaited the right person to return.

Once Rostislav's breath would brush the creeping stems, they would recede, and Damaris' eyes would slowly begin to open. Such a vibrant green, meeting the stark contrast of his white eyes.

Hello, old friend.

@Rostislav's dreams have led him to the cathedral of spiraling stone atop Veneror Peak, where Damaris lies sleeping under a light blanket of ivy. Rostislav may interpret the dreams as a vision from the gods, but please be aware no 'confirmed' contact was made!

Thread requirements: 1 reply, 300 words. Please tag the RE account in your reply.
Once you respond, you may then begin including Damaris in Rostislav's posts.

Happy reunion!