we're climbing until we transcend
higher, higher to where the skies end
"Our Warden Morrighan, will be taking up the mantle of Regent."
She can still remember the sound of Antiope’s voice that night beneath the watch of the moon. She remembers, too, the churning in her stomach from the excitement and anxiety of finally making it to this point. She had worked so hard to prove herself, especially once Isra left on her journey. Really, in her mind, there had been no one else better suited for the position.
And at last, she is Regent Morrighan.
There had been cheering, but she remembers the stares of some who felt uncertain. Whether it had been from jealousy or intimidation, Morrighan didn’t know. It didn’t matter so much because she knew that Antiope trusted her and she respected the mare who had become like a good friend to her over the seasons. Isra had trusted them both and wouldn’t have left Denocte if she hadn’t. That was good enough for her.
As she walks the halls of the castle with Bram by her side, she finds herself feeling content. She’s still not used to living among these stone walls. Although somehow it’s a lot more calming and comfortable than her dinky hut. The lanterns flicker above, but the lighting is dim. While some may find the sound of hooves echoing through the hallway ominous, it oddly makes her feel a sense of power. She can’t exactly explain it, but even just being able to look out the windows and see for miles gives her a strong feeling. The mare also didn’t realize just how much was out there until she looked out through the glass. And to think too that there’s an entire world past the mountains.
Even being Regent, she much prefers the comfort of Night’s borders.
But when she looks out at the window tonight, something suddenly doesn’t feel right. There is no moon in sight, though she figured it was just the New Moon so it would be hidden in shadow anyways. Besides that, there is no one outside. No lights on from houses or the markets. It’s as if all of the Court is asleep or absent.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she sees a shadow creep out from down the hallway. Morrighan can’t make out who it is, but she feels their stare burning into her skin. Could it be Caligo playing her games again? She narrows her eyes.
"Show yourself," she demands, her nostrils flaring. Her hooves already begin to heat up in preparation for the flames she’ll likely conjure soon.
---
In the real Court keep, the Regent sleeps in her bed. She once was resting rather peacefully, but she now seems troubled as she begins to paw at the ground with her hoof.
Dune often woke up as a crow. Which is how he knew he was not really awake, but dreaming.
He was instantly aware there was something different about this dream. Something that made him feel like he had just donned a role, stepped into a part. He didn’t know what or why, and he didn’t particularly like it, but his magic was too weak for him to hold much sway over the landscape.
He hops to the floor-- grey stone, so they aren’t in Solterra-- and closer to the open door. A mare calls out “show yourself,” and he considers denying this request. But he’s curious, crow-curious, so he scuttles forward. His feathers are a darker black than the night sky, the kind of black that takes all light and swallows it whole.
Despite the darkness of the court he can make out the outline of the mare (good eyes, crows) and soon after a flicker of light at her heels. Fire? He clicks his tongue, takes two hops closer with his eyes squinted in observation. Definitely fire, although it does not seem to harm her. They’re in a dream, so of course this is within reason, but still… most dreams, to his disappointment, mirrored reality. Either she was a natural dreamer, or she controlled fire in the waking world too. And based on the dark, dull, terribly normal court around them, he did not think she was a natural dreamer.
Well... He’s not here for a conversation. Dune squawks at the mare, eying her cautiously, and then he takes to the air, flying past her and out the open window, into the eerily dark streets of Denocte. As soon as he’s airborne he becomes aware of a necklace in his grasp, a simple but pretty thing-- a bright fire agate on a plain chord. Some dream glitch or another, surely, placed it in his claws. Wherever it came from, it’s his now, and it makes his little crow heart happy.
He soars high over the streets, then swoops low, enjoying the dream winds in his dream feathers as he slowly winds his way through the city.
@Morrighan <3 I hope this is okay, let me know if you need more to work with!
we're climbing until we transcend
higher, higher to where the skies end
The shadow is not Caligo, or if it is, she's not in a horse form. Instead it appears to be a crow and a curious one at that. It eyes Morrighan closely as it hops over and she looks at him with narrowed eyes. She's never been one for birds and especially not crows. They were smart, but pesky things sometimes.
"What are you doing in here?" she questions, even though she knows it can't answer that. The castle seems to be an odd place for a crow to be. "Shouldn't you be out scavenging things?" All she ever sees them doing is picking at scraps along the alleyways. If it's not that, then they're all huddled together in the trees crying out in the early mornings.
He answers her with a squawk, then suddenly takes to the air and flies towards her. She ducks and the fire at her feet sparks from her irritation. When the bird escapes through the open window, she's a little relieved it wasn't attacking her after all. Except the feeling doesn't last long once she notices something dangling off his feet and glowing like her flames. Her eyes get wide and her nostrils flare.
"What- my necklace! Get back here you stupid bird!" she yells and gallops down the hall to go out the door. The mare is in the streets now, trying to weave her way through the crowd - where did all these people come from? And she can't seem to get through them fast enough. One after another, she keeps bumping into shoulders. No one will move out of the damn way.
Every so often she looks to the sky to keep the crow in view. Morrighan tries her best to keep up so she can get closer and finally, she's almost there. She sees him swoop down lower and thinks this might be her chance.
"Get back here, you pest! That doesn't belong to you!" she yells out, furious now having to endure this chase.
Out of everyone else here, the crow had to pick her to harass and steal her beloved necklace? Well, he would learn soon enough that he messed with the wrong mare. Quickly, she hurls a fireball towards the bird with her mind. Hopefully it will startle him and he'll lose his grip (or even better, it'll take him down entirely).
we came passively, falling on the steps of melancholy,
falling deeper, with an ear sharp for the fall
His claws tighten on the trinket, drawing satisfaction from the simple feeling of ownership. Somewhere, below and behind, she yells “Get back here you pest! That doesn’t belong to you!” He cackles, undeterred.
Dune, by day, would not have much interest in stealing someone’s necklace. He was, unfortunately, no stranger to theft, but he liked to think days of thievery were behind him.
But this was not Dune by day. This was night-Dune, crow Dune, in the shimmering landscape of dream where morality and consequence melted like clocks. And the thrill of the theft filled his little crow-bones with a fiery exhilaration.
Speaking of fire-- Dune glances behind him to see a ball of it, coming in hot. He veers to the left, but not quite fast enough-- his feathers are singed as the fireball streaks past just to his right. With an indignant squawk he takes a sharp turn, down a crooked side street, and lands to the ground with a few bouncing hops.
Dune turns to face the dreamer, his expression thoughtful and completely without fear. Her fireball has set a building ablaze. The flames are spreading remarkably quickly, jumping from building to building-- this dream is a matchstick city.
He looks at the dreamer, her face illuminated by fury and firelight. There’s something about her that’s… maybe not beautiful, but captivating. Like watching a wildfire, it was hard to look away. But there’s a necklace tight in his claws and a vicious glee in her eyes. He bares his teeth, a wolf’s maw unfathomably contained behind his crow beak. And from those sharp white teeth the rest of his skin unfolds. Feathers pull back as though there’s an invisible hand skinning the bird, but instead of fleshy red they unfold to reveal fur, thick and black. Four legs emerge from the crow’s feet, and the necklace finds itself wrapped around Dune’s neck instead of clasped in his now-canine grip.
He growls, low, daring her to come closer. Meanwhile the fire is spreading, and spreading, and--
Somewhere a wolf begins to howl. It is no hunting song. It is a crying, a desperate plea. Dune’s ears prick instinctively. His eyes remain glued to the dreamer, but his wolf heart clenches anxiously at the summoning. He does not know what the hell is going on, between the necklace and the fire, the wolf and the dreamer and the city. Sometimes, that was just the nature of the dream.
we're climbing until we transcend
higher, higher to where the skies end
Morrighan doesn't realize she had been holding her breath until the fire ball makes contact with the stupid crow. He goes tumbling down and she exhales… before realizing what she's just done.
She looks on with wide eyes, not entirely believing the scene before her. The fire has somehow set an entire building ablaze as if it bounced off the bird and jumped in the opposite direction. She knows her magic is still being worked on, but she didn't expect it to be that bad. Her heart is sinking.
There is a growl and Morrighan looks back to where the crow had landed. He is nowhere to be found and instead a wolf stands before her. At first she thinks it's Bram, but then she notices that her necklace is now around the canine's neck. Did the crow turn into a wolf?
"What are you, a shapeshifter?" she asks, both frustrated and confused.
In reality, there's no time to figure out what this creature is. While her necklace means a lot to her, there are more pressing matters at hand. Unfortunately while she's very good at starting fires, she hasn't quite mastered an art of putting them out. Morrighan has no idea what she's going to do. There had always been a running joke with others that she would set Denocte on fire someday. Well, now she's officially done it.
Then there is a howl. She knows that howl. It's not a typical wolf's cry either. This one is desperate and scared. It's a kind that makes her panic when she hardly ever panics.
Bram.
He's in the burning building.
Morrighan doesn't understand how he ended up there when she thought he had been right by her side this whole time. It didn't matter now though. She had to get to him before the building collapsed on him.
Without wasting another second, she springs forward to enter the building. She can feel the heat against her skin more so than usual, so much that she may have just burned it. Normally she's practically immune to burns, but this must be different. The Regent shakes the feeling as adrenaline rushes through her body. She had to save him.
Smoke has already engulfed the room and it stings her eyes while she tries to look around. It doesn't help that his body is as dark as night so he blends in with the black smoke more easily. "Bram!" she calls out, feeling the smoke race down her throat and into her own lungs. She coughs, but it makes the burning feeling worse and she can barely breathe. The fire seems to be inching closer to her and so badly wants another taste of her flesh.
Then there is the howl again and it's much louder this time. Morrighan rushes off in the opposite direction and he finally comes into view. She sees him lying on the floor a few yards away practically motionless and the sight makes her heart stop.
Before she can rush towards him, a wooden pillar falls down in front of her. It's entirely engulfed in flames and they seem to be getting more aggressive by the minute. Fuck.
"Hold on Bram!" Morrighan calls out and tries to ignore the stinging with every breath. She backs up to get a running start before leaping forward. As she soars over the pillar, she can feel every inch of her body burn. Somehow, it's like the fire has gone through her skin to her insides. Every organ and vein- it all feels like it's on fire. She cries out in pain, but she has to ignore it. She has to for him.
Once she makes it over, she rushes to his side. Quickly, she leans down to push Bram's body up over her head and around her neck. He feels like a dead weight and, for once, she prays to Caligo to let him be okay.
When she makes her way out of the building, everything in her is burning. At this point, all she can think about is making sure Bram is still alive and then maybe she can figure out saving Denocte. She can hear more of the building collapse behind her as she carefully sets him down onto the ground. The poor guy looks terrible and has several burns over his body.
"Bram?" she pleads, nudging his shoulder with her nose. Please.
we came passively, falling on the steps of melancholy,
falling deeper, with an ear sharp for the fall
There is strange magic afoot. Dreams are already strange things, but this one in particular… Dune has the incomprehensible feeling that they are the film on a soap bubble. Reason lies on one side, madness on the other. This strange dream is the translucent membrane between the two, and it is stretched thin by the limits of imagination.
As soot begins to fall like snow, he wonders to himself what the hell is going on here?
His magic is slipping, his form with it. The wolf body stretches and smoothes into that of a bear, then shrinks into a field mouse. His face twists and morphs, contorted in bewilderment and pain. Something causes him to step toward the burning building, and though he does not follow the mare inside he watches, wide-eyed, and waits, face morphing like a slot machine.
And then the dreamer emerges, with a wolf limp on her shoulders. He feels something like relief fill him. When Dune finally speaks, it is not with his voice. Not with his words.
When Dune speaks, it is not with his face.
He doesn't know who he is anymore, but Morrighan will recognize the form he now takes. She’s seen it before.
“Bram will live.” His voice is calm and booming. Dust scatters, flames are fanned. Only then he notices the burns on her mortal body. “But you… You threw yourself into the fire. You offered your life. You--”
Before he can finish speaking, Dune dissolves. A look of surprise is on his face as it crumbles and blows away, ash in the wind. It only takes a few seconds before he is gone completely, and Morrighan and Bram are alone in the empty street as the world burns around them.
The amulet falls to the ground with a soft sigh.
@Morrighan let me know if I should change anything <3 This is Dune's last dream post, his next/closer will be him waking up! <3
we're climbing until we transcend
higher, higher to where the skies end
"Bram will live," a voice starts to say. It's not a voice she's heard before, but something about it seems familiar.
When she lifts her head away from Bram, Morrighan has to blink a few times to make sure she's not hallucinating. Standing in front of her is Caligo - or is it the shapeshifter? It's so hard to tell, but her form seems so real. Maybe it is her. Maybe it's always been her.
She noticed how Morrighan threw herself into the fire to save Bram. Something none of them would've imagined seasons ago when she first found him in the mountains. He was near death then too, an apparent theme between the pair. Back then, Morr saved him under what felt like the watchful eye of Caligo. That same gaze that burned into her when the foal was dying in the cold, which led to her getting her fire magic back.
There are so many questions in her mind, but she doesn't get to ask any of them. Caligo's form is dissolving and so is the scene around them. It all turns into ash and blows away in the wind. Her pendant falls to the ground and then -
Morrighan jerks awake, her heart pounding in her chest. She is back in the castle, in her room specifically. Her necklace hangs around her neck like normal, but something feels off. Different. Painful.
Her throat still feels like it's burning from breathing in all of the smoke. There are places on her body where burns feel like they should be, but there is no evidence of them on her skin. Her insides pulse like they had been engulfed in flames.
It's then that she decides she's never drinking that mead before bed again. With a shake of her head, she gets up to leave for a much needed walk.
we came passively, falling on the steps of melancholy,
falling deeper, with an ear sharp for the fall
Dune woke hungover on dreams, feeling full of sand. Grit, everywhere: behind the eyelids, between the teeth; crammed in the squishy folds of the brain. He blinked, not knowing where he was for a split second before the sounds of home washed over him. There was shouting somewhere in the streets, ringing through the labyrinth of the city. Elsewhere a clay pot crashed to the ground, and someone moaned in despair. A white cat on the windowsill noticed he was awake, and rolled over to expose its soft belly with a quiet sleepy sound.
“What in the world was that about?” Dune shakes his head and instantly regrets moving-- it feels like his brain is bouncing around in his skull. He keeps his eyes closed, breathes deeply, waits for the absolute worst of the sickness to pass. It wasn’t the first time his magic left him absolutely drained, and he knew well the rest of the day would be plagued with brain fog, body aches, and waves of dissociation.
He has questions, and frustrations, about what strange things unfolded in the fiery woman’s dream. But he doesn’t have the time to linger on them. As soon as he can move about without wanting to die, he’s down the streets and on his way to the docks to find work for the day.
To him it was just another dream, and the day that follows just another day.
@Morrighan ah it's been an honor and a fun thread, thank you! <3
credits
