A Witch's Nightmare

[01:35] One moment, Claude was resting comfortably in his manor, preparing for sleep.

The next, he finds himself sitting in a rather comfortable chair, a teaset in-front of him...

...and as he looks around, he realizes everything does not seem right.

The water is a deep red- clear, ruling out being a lake of blood, yet...

The trees are upside down, and all that which would usually be greenery is a deep purple.

Despite this, it feels...calm here. Confusing, and unusual, absolutely. But the subtle swish of the trees, the gentle burbling of the brook in-front of him, the quiet crackling of the braziers keeping this odd real alight...

It is certainly an oddity.

Yet what is more odd is that he is not alone.

From the darkness, a young-looking girl approaches- below five feet in height, with snow-white hair, and...

A tan blindfold covering her eyes.

She seems to be walking toward him, slowly, but she is having to half-stumble around, guiding herself with the various plants, nearly tripping over rocks.

The person also doesn't appear to know he's there.
(Camilla)
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[01:56] The room was dark already, so as not to bother the person already sleeping. Settling in at his work desk the light magi was simply viewing the world through his own illumination. A soft glow escaping his eyes to shed light onto the paper he was working on.

'The Osronian Wild Boar: Children of Erymanthus? by Claude vey Pelleaux'

A smile touched his lips as he brought a hand to caress it's cover, an embossed picture of one of the mighty beasts painted upon it. It was his life's work, a true passion that only those of an intellectual persuasion ever heard him talk about. In truth it was an obsession, a fanatical look into the greatest predator within Osrona.

There where countless times that he'd fallen asleep gazing at the book. Though, a habit of sleepwalking made the nobleman. Well, slightly less than freaked out as they found themselves not at their desk but at a teapot. His attention shifted at first to the tea, a hand reachingout to pick up a cup.

It was only as he realized that it wasn't one of his own sets. He could tell it wasn't his. No it was someone elses. An old friend of his that no longer walked Eternia. A sight of sadness escaped his lips as he sat the cup of Kirai's down upon the table.

Looking up he was greeted by a scene from nightmares, was that what this was? He wasn't sure it felt like it was real. No, this was just a dream, another nightmare haunting him of his own sins no doubt.

His eyes darted to that lake of blood, he couldn't tell but he thought faces stared back at him. Those he'd wronged, those who died because of his own actions. Yet, a face so similar to his own but older was what glared at him so sharply from that lake of blood.

He looked away, it was far to much for him to handle at that moment. His father was dead long ago. He'd made sure of it, it couldn't hurt him now. That's when he saw theyoung girl.

Which was... Odd to him, normally he was alone in his nightmares well as alone as he could be. It was a grinding spot of interest in his mind and it's what he latched on. Better a crippled youth than the faces of those he'd wronged.

Softly the nobleman stood up from his place upon the cushion. He could feel vaguely something was off about himself. He felt taller and heavier, stronger even but he couldn't place it. In a flash his now longer legs glided across the treacherous lands to the girl.

"Misss, are you alright?"

As he spoke he'd offer a hand at the same time, that hissing sound as he spoke was accompanies with a swishing of a tongue that wasn't normal. Upon his eyes he could see the thin serpentine scales of cooling blue. A shift of his expression, he couldn't see himself but he could tell he'd not blinked since arriving. As if his eyes where double-lidded, like a serpents.

Even as his mind plinked with the oddity of it all he quelled it. That was normal, the gifts of Rasalhague had always been visible to him. He'd realized the truth of his nature long ago. What mattered now was the young girl struggling along. His focus snapped back to them. He'd suddenly realize that they couldn't see his offered hand but it was a dream maybe? He wasn't sure in truth.

(Claude vey Pelleaux)
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[02:15] The girl stumbles forward just as he approaches, and as he speaks she falls forward into him- unless he dodged. Thankfully, he didn't, and her head collides with his torso, arms flailing.

Unfortunately.

She did not expect this, and she just kind of...bounces off of the tall man.

Yet fortunately!

She manages to recover enough to regain her balance to the point where she isn't actively falling over. Her arms reach out, feeling around, attempting to relocate Claude.

A hand presses up against his chest, and though she hadn't been blushing before, she does now, quickly pulling her hand back.

Quietly, she speaks- tone as if she was embarrassed, yet her gaze isn't anywhere in his direction.

"I...s-sorry. I got lost from home, and..."

A moment is taken for her to regain her composure- which she utterly fails at before continuing.

"T-thank you for catching my...my fall, heh...I'm not...used to being alone..."

She trails off at the end, clearly managing to dampen her own spirits.
(Camilla)
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[02:20]
{LOAD GAME}

[02:28] The man of Rasalhague remained as composed and still as a the great Sadik itself. The offered hand was enough to gently shifted, not catching the youth outright. Now, simply a brush a push almost imperceivably in it's gentility. Guiding them without fuss into a more secure stance.

That place of security being where Claude believed all things where safest. Within his coils, or arms. So as the youth pulled away flustered the man's head only tilted slightly, amber hues narrowing to slits. Studying, analyzing the youth.

It wasn't long before he'd catalogued what he saw of them. Placing the image into the deep reservoirs of his mind. Hiding it among the faces of the many he'd studied. A catalogue of humanity stored away within the mind of one detached from it.

The words echoed across to his ears and they made sense to him. His gaze shifting towards the strange upside down landscape. Yes it would be easy for a young girl to become lost within the mazes. Then his attention flickers back, a soft hiss as he tasted the air. Copper and iron, blood. That improved his mood considerably, it reminded him of his favorite wine.

He still had a casket of the purest distilled thanks to his father within the basement.

A hand came forward, gently cupping at the small of the witches back. Another taking that hand so timid. It was movements made with the confidence of one who was used to command. Born to it.

"Ssshhh, allow one usssed to it to guide you." Being alone was something he'd been since the death of his mother. He could still recall the last letter which detailed a loving message. Looking forward for the return from her station in Hessailia. Yet, that was in 1650 mere months before the city was sacked by Rhoynish barbarians.

It was odd as he thought these things flickers of the truth seemed to dance about the area. A letter upon the ground there, a fire here, a rhoynish armband half buried in the dirt. Yet, these thoughts happened in a flash as the man began to guid them. Talking in that off-kilter tone of calmness.

"I am here, fear not the fall. There isss tea, come sssit, talk to me." It was an order but perhaps also a request. Could one be both? "Then we ssshall sssee you home. Yesss?"
(Claude vey Pelleaux)
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[02:46] There is a slight jump as his hand cups at the small of her back, and her hand is taken- yet she calms once she realizes he's just helping to guide her.

The girl nods slightly to his words, following along without any resistance- not that she could offer it, to which he would well be aware.

Her 'gaze' roves around the air, looking around at nothing at all- just moving her head as she tries to, somehow, use it to keep track of where she is.

Another slight nod at the order, and after a moment, she replies with just a little more energy.

"A-alright...that sounds nice..."

A very slight pause, before she shakes her head slightly.

"I don't like tea, though...do you have water...?"

Wow, such a picky girl. Though, she was simply asking for water if it was had- the implication she'd still drink the tea if hewanted her to.

"I'm not sure I know how to...to get...home from here, but- but..."

Now she begins to sniffle, tears starting to well up in the corners of her eyes as she's led to the tea area. It'd be pretty easy for him to coax her to sit and drink, if he wanted to.
(Camilla)
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[03:02] "Sssit, be calm. You are here, it isss a simple fact." It was now that his mind had settled, becoming accustomed to the strangeness as if it was natural. It could speak to the deep shadows that normally hung in his mind that this hellish landscape was so easy to navigate to him.

Yet, even as he spoke he'd continue guiding them evenly into a seat. His hands steady and his gait slowed to match there own. There was an attentiveness to each step that he'd allow them to take. As if he was guarding against anything as slight as a stubbed toe. Yet, that act of guardian ship was done on his terms. A harshness to his small corrections of their course.

It was only after they'd been seated that he looked to the cups. "I don't much like tea either. It was my friend that loved it so much, but I loved them ssso much." As he spoke he'd pick up Kirai's teacup, shifting it slightly in his hands. He shifted, reaching a long arm outwards to dip the cup into the bloody looking water.

There was no hesitation as he brought the cup filled with blood to his lips. Drinking it slowly, a soft gasp of pleasure escaped his lips. It tasted as blood wine did. "Yesss, I much prefer wine. Letsss drink to that little one, for there is no water in thessse lands."

Even as he spoke he'd taken the tea kettle itself, cold and still was the porcelain as he dipped it into the blood wine lake. Though, whether it was bloodwine or simply blood wasn't something that crossed the dreaming mind of Claude.

Shifting back he'd pour them a cup, speaking all the while. "I wasss only a little older than you, when I had my firssst cup. Come, drink it ssshall calm your poor nervesss." A hiss accompaid the sounds of s as the man flowed with the conversation.

Though, after it was poured he'd leave it in front of them on the table. A simple test for their own abilities. It seemed hewas ever the instructor, attempting to pull out the best in others. Despite the twisted nature of it all.

"Now, I am alssso lossst so if I help you home. Perhapsss I shall find my own way, beneficial to all yesss?"
(Claude vey Pelleaux)
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[03:25] She does as commanded, being guided into the seat, she gently sits, hands resting in her lap. Her feet tap around the area, trying to learn the layout of...well...

Where she sat, other than that it was a chair, and there was assumably a table.

Her search is halted as he speaks, her head swiveling to look vaguely in his direction- tilting slightly. His friend?...

He would hear a quiet 'aw' as he says there's no water, then a look as if of confusion as he urges her to try this wine.

Nervously nodding, she holds her hands out to accept the cup he is presumed to be passing her- yet when it doesn't come, she is confused...

It only takes a moment to realize it's on the table. Her arms extend outwards, looking to land upon the table- gently, of course, yet...

...it seems she's rather unlucky. The tips of her fingers just pressed against the rim of the plate the teacup sat upon, flipping it up, and sending the red liquid everywhere.

In panicked motion, she does manage to grab the cup, keeping it from falling to the ground. This does not stop the liquid from following, some even staining the bottom hem of her dress. Not that she notices.

Shakily holding the dripping cup up over her lap, she presses it to her lips and pours what little remained of the liquid down, into her mouth-

-and coughs slightly at both the taste, and the alcohol. Yet it seems this has calmed her, simply because it was a different crisis to pay mind to.

"I...that tasted weird, sir...though I...

I do feel better, I guess. Just a little..."

The girl stops to, far more carefully this time, return her cup to its soaked plate.

Just as she plants it to the plate, she continues.

"It sounds like your friend means a lot to you...why did you stop loving them...?"

How innocent she is.

"I didn't know you were lost...where do you live, sir...? I live near an old chapel...it's really broken, though..."

A place that, perhaps, Claude could connect to the dilapidated chapel by Osrona.

"I hope you can find your way home..."

Her hands brush down her lap, even though they're still slightly soaked in wine.
(Camilla)
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[03:34] Claude paid little heed to the little girls trouble with the cup, at-least that's what it seemed at first. Though there was a slight readiness to his posture, as if he was coiled and awaiting a chance to strike outwards. Though, as she regained her composure? He simply stilled.

He couldn't help but smile softly at the question, it's innocence all to lovely. "He died, I could have ssstopped it. Given warning but in the end I held my tongue and allowed the end to take him." It was a cruel analysis of his choice not to warn Kirai of the Radiant's approach. A calculated action to keep the Assassin quiet about the work they'd done for him.

"I live within a great cassstle, with bannersss of- Ah, Pelleaux my people. Though I am but an edge to the great house. A cousin living under the ssshadow of lessser kin." He'd tilt his head, brining that cup upwards so his tongue could flick out to taste the blood wine.

"Yesss, the chapel of the Rhoynisssh dead. I know it well, often have I taught the low-born within it'd dilatated wallsss." There was a few moments as he sat there. In truth he had no references to go by, so he looked up to nothingness.

"I can't sssee the ssstars, the night is far to cloudy. It ssseemsss we mussst await there passing." After he'd spoken he'd sit down the cup evenly. Softly glowing slits of molten gold shifted to gaze upon Camilla. Waiting for something.
(Claude vey Pelleaux)
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[03:46] As his slits settle on her form, her 'gaze' is looking...roughly to the right of his head.

There is a sadness to her face as she thinks of his words, hands clasped together in her lap. Eventually, she thinks she's managed to come up with a good enough answer. Her lips open, and...

"It must have hurt a lot afterwards. You couldn't have known you had been able to save him, right...?

Friends don't let friends die if they can stop it, after all!"

She says that with such confidence, such assurance.

It is a shame how the world truly works.

"I've never been in a castle before...I've seen some, far away, but...I've heard they're so big inside, and there are so many rooms you can never-ever see them all..."

Then the girl yawns quietly, covering her mouth with a hand...and Claude would suddenly feel so tired. So very, very tired...

His eyes would grow heavier by the second now, closing, closing...

...until he would suddenly awake in his bed, memories of the experience already fading. The only image that would remain lodged in his mind for certain being that of the girl's face.
(Camilla)
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[03:53] The Pelleaux couldn't help but give a slightly mournful sigh as they pondered the end of their friend. Of course he'd only slotted them as a friend years after their death. At the time they'd just been another business associate. One more face in the long list of contacts.

"Yes, I hurt deeply. The painsss remained even asss the yearsss passs."

There was a mournful tone to that sentence. It was true he'd grown sadder years after but at the time? It'd been just good sense to take care of that threat. He'd not say anything about entering the castle, after all it as so normal to him. He glanced tot he side.

The yawn should have been what he expected, though it wasn't quite a yawn he expected. He himself started to feel weary, had he drank to much wine perhaps? It was possible after all. He'd lost himself in the drink before. It was as if a switch was thrown suddenly.

His decorum vanished as hetoppled forward into the table before him. Though rather than strike it harshly he only found himself shooting upwards in his bed. Golden hues looking around quickly, finding nothing but his room. He struggled to recall the dream even as it faded.

Forgetting everything except the girl.
(Claude vey Pelleaux)
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