Same as It Ever Was (Part 6)

Very little, if it ever was, is making sense about this situation. This castle. This problem. This... everything.

A tiny silver dragon named Ainitharitirisixchel, or Ainith for short, has just appeared after a short prayer on the Deathsinger's part to Eluna. Unlike the golden-scaled counterpart that everyone knows and loves from their timeline, Ainith has requested chickens, not fishes, in exchange for his being called, and has identified Nala as being... 'not a person'.

Meanwhile, back in the room with Nadina, Telamon, Simony, and Zenith, as well as Telanmo, Zenith looks a little confused. "In reality," he says. "Everyone is. We just need to... Get back to reality. We need to wake up!" He stares at Nadina. "Don't entertain this little charade. You're just making it worse? What is happening to reality? To everyone's bodies while we're asleep?"

Nadina looks at Telamon, thoroughly confused now. "I don't know what's happening anymore," she says. "This can't..." Her eyes widen, and she grabs Telamon's arm. "Maybe we're all wrong. This isn't just a continuation of the alternate timeline that Zenith's from. If so... What _are_ we? What is happening right now?" Tears bloom in her eyes. "Telamon, none of it's holding up. Please fix this. Something's _wrong_."

GAME: Harkashan rolls Survival: (3)+15: 18

Zeke isn't sure how to comfort Nala about not being a person. It feels a bit harsh after all to tell someone that they aren't. If she isn't a person, then what is she. "What issss sssshe?" He asks. It feels like a reasonable question to ask. He ignores Nadina and her theatrics, he doesn't trust her as far as he could (if necessary) lift and throw her. (Though he's never understood that bit of symbolism.) He rumbles low in his throat and pats Nala on the shoulder. "Do not worry youngling, we will get to the bottom of thisssss."

The silver dragon finally catches Rune's gaze, her blue eyes widening a bit at the sight. As someone who serves, at least by proxy, the golden variant of this very creature, she instinctively bows her head slightly, dyed hair falling forward and shadowing her eyes for a moment.

Then, she seems to realize what is being said and looks to Nala. There is a brief moment where she considers commenting on how little of this seems to be as it seems, but instead the rogue holds her tongue. "Can you... tell us a little more about what you mean?" She asks of the silver one, instead.

The whole thing's been bothering Telamon ever since they got here. Like a small hand tugging on his sleeve -- a memory of the past, and possibly what's to come. And Tel frowns at Zenith. "But we came here -from- reality. If we're in the dream..." He pauses, then his eyes narrow. "Maybe I can do something." He reaches over to cover Nadina's hand with his. "Peace," he says softly. "I will do all I can."

Gently, he disentangles himself, and takes a deep breath. "Ni'essa, guide my path and light my way. I pray all that I do is righteous in your eyes." Then the elegant sorcerer draws forth a gleaming prism, carved from a single diamond. Holding it in one hand, he speaks, his voice thrumming with power and echoing softly.

"It is my wish to gather these figments and dreams to me. It is my will to guide them to a safe haven in the Dreamtime, where my Mistress watches. It is my choice to make this sacrifice, for how can things become real if we do not dream of them first?" The prism glows with multicolored light, shining through Telamon's fingers as his starry eyes blaze with power. "I WISH THIS, SO MOTE IT BE!"

GAME: Telamon casts Wish. Caster Level: 20 DC: 30

"I suppose, who knows if it's not our reality that is just 'an' alternate?" Harkashan mumbles to himself, as the Dream descends into chaos. Nadina's facade of confidence breaks further, while he closes his eyes. He then grabs into his bag and takes out what looks like a cloth-wrapped series of chicken-jerkies. "I fear for chicken, this is all I can provide for the time being, Ainitharitirisixchel." The Sith-makar remarks, and offers it in reward for what has been revealed to them.

He then rubs his clawed hand slowly along his muzzle, watching the others react. He has been so on edge throughout all of this. But now that the chaos is set in, and his feeling of being unsettled has become justified, he's actually gotten more calm about this all.

Zeke asks the question that is at the top of his head, as Harkashan himself looks to Rune, then to Telamon. It looks like he's about to say something when Telamon starts Wishing through Arcane means. Best to wait and see for now.

Simony blinks at Zenith. "Was it something I said...?" She squints, and looks to Telamon, watching as he ... prays? Her eyes widen to saucers as she hears those last words. "A wish!", she breathes. The Goblin begins to look around curiously, as it attempting to discern what may changing, subtly or no.

"If it doesn't work... perhaps I should call upon the Raven himself, with my own wish."

GAME: Simony rolls fortitude: (2)+18: 20
GAME: Telamon rolls fortitude: (18)+16: 34
GAME: Zeke rolls Fortitude: (18)+20: 38
GAME: Harkashan rolls Fortitude+1: (11)+23+1: 35
GAME: Rune rolls fortitude: (1)+14: 15 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Rune rolls fortitude: (2)+14: 16

Nala looks a little hollow inside, like she doesn't know what to do, what to say, or... Anything at all. Even when she looks hollowly at Zeke with his comfort, the only thing she can manage to say is, "Can you make me a person, then?" Her golden eyes are beginning to become shiny with tears.

"Not a person," Ainith responds to Rune. "There are goodpeoples!" Ainith then points to Telamon, Harkashan, Simony, Zeke, and Rune with little claws before he snatches the chicken-jerkies from Harkashan's offering. "Nobody else here is peoples--"

Then Telamon calls out with magic to magic itself, in that powerful and terrifying way that wishing magic works. The ground trembles. No, it shakes. An earthquake--a dreaming-quake?--comes to the fairytale castle of dreams. Rune and Simony are knocked to the ground but narrowly avoid having furniture and paintings fall on them. The others stay upright, with Telanmo dashing over to Nala to keep her safe--

When the quake finishes, the room is now quite a bit more crowded. There's a blue-scaled sith-makar who looks quite puzzled. There's a half-sil woman with black-and-red hair and a black tattoo that matches Rune's pact mark, who is glaring daggers at Rune. There's a mul'niessa woman who is smiling wickedly with a whip coiled dangerously on her hip, a fencing rapier dangling from her weapon belt and smart outfit as though she were going from a high-society 'party' in Charn to someplace else (the idea of where that might be is best left unexplored).

It's the Rune-doppelganger who breaks the ice first. "Okay," she says. "Who the hell are all of you and why have you pulled me and Shan away from our mission? And why does _she_ look like me?" She points at Rune.

... And then, just to add to the confusion, a hole opens up from the ceiling of the room. White light shines through. Aryia falls through, like a cat, landing perfectly on her feet. Then... the hole plugs itself back up, the ceiling rearranging as though it'd never happened at all.

GAME: Simony rolls perception: (7)+25: 32

The world shifts and rearranges itself once more, and Harkashan moves his hands out a bit to keep his balance as furniture shifts. Making his way over towards Rune in a stable manner, using his tail to ensure Simony remains upright as well. And as Aryia comes falling down, he's offering a hand to Rune to help her up.

The sudden barrage of questions coming from Nega-Rune has him rise up and tilt his head. "Hrrrm..." He rumbles at them. "I fear we are dealing with some reality-nonsense, and weird dream stuff. I wish I could give you a more accurate statement than that, but as of yet, I cannot."

He then looks to Nadira. "I think we are missing some critical information here. Something missing that could help us link what is truly going on here. With the Hand of Eluna speaking of non-people, I feel like what happened when this Timeline was 'destroyed' and then 'brought back' isn't quite... an accurate descriptor." None of them are peoples. Well, that makes more sense. Zeke nods. If none of them are people, this makes much more sense.

Wait.

What are they then? No on ever answered that did they?

Suddenly there's a lot of confusion and a lot more people and... Zeke is very, very confused. Who is this other blue-scaled sith-makar suddenly? He sniffs in their general direction. Shan? It seems likely to him. It's the only name that he could possibly put to them. "Sssa. Peassce on your nessst." He looks pleadingly at the little silver dragon, or FOR the little silver dragon. "Thisss one could use sssome anssswersss!"

Sometimes, you don't expect a sudden earthquake/dreamquake. Shifting her weight, Rune's foot catches one of Nala's discarded flower petals and slips out from underneath her. It's a sudden motion that nearly has her doing the splits before the shuddering has her wobble over onto her rear end. "What in the hells was that?"

Only for her to realize that there are now additional people that were not there previously. Aryia's return is welcome, but the three others are easily enough recognized as the doppelgangers from Nala's dreams. "Because I am you, or at least a variation on you. It's a pleasure." Blue-Rune replies from her spot on the floor, dealing more with injured pride than anything else. "Took after your mother with the red coloration, or just a preference?"

Shifting her weight, Rune makes sure there are no more wayward flower petals, and then grasps onto Harkashan's hand and pulls herself up. Then, she looks towards the silver dragon, "What about them? People?"

Telamon wasn't sure what to expect. The group to appear by the shores of the Dreamtime, or even on the Barque of Sweet Dreams? He'd even settle for the strange prince at this point. He did NOT expect an earthquake (dreamquake?) and he staggers, barely keeping his feet as reality itself sneezes around them. Still, it -feels- stable.

And then Tel realizes there are -more- people in the room. And it only takes a glance to realize some of their group has counterparts -- but not all. Interesting.

First, the half-elf moves over to help Telanmo and Nala to their feet if needed. "Sorry about that. Honestly, at this point I'm kind of experimenting to see what happens." He offers the couple a cheeky grin. "Sometimes you do that with relationships as well."

That done, he turns to the new others. "I'll be happy to send you back once we've unraveled this riddle. But... I think you are -necessary- for what must transpire here." His eyes twinkle. "Isn't it nice to be needed?"

Aryia plops right onto the ground with a booted ker-tak. Her glowing eyes are wide in surprise, outstretched hands slowly retreating to pat herself atop her half shaved head before blinking. She's still got a few scrapes from the previous brawl, but she shakes her head briskly, putting her fists back and and looking around at the room briskly.

Her arms fall limp to her side. A long, belated sigh escapes her as she drags a hand down her scarred face. "I swear to fuck if the /necessary/ bit is that I have to beat my own ass /again/...-" she points at the more sinister version of herself. The mute is side eyeing the weaponry with unease. <Handspeech/Tongues>

While Hark was not quite quick enough to prevent her fall, his tail does do nicely to keep Simony from taking a painting to the head. The canvas itself is no trouble, but the wooden frame is sturdy enough to cause pain. She is slow in getting up, and pauses to look at the painting itself. A gasp.

Slowly, she picks up the painting, staring at it with those wide eyes once more. "Uh... people?"

The Goblin looks around, confusion in her expression as there are now suddenly more people. She glances at Rune as the half-elf answers her counterpart's question, and peers at Aryia... before bursting into giggles for a few moments. Sighing, she holds up the painting. "This painting is so lifelike... this was not done... not done by a mortal's hands. If it was, it is the most exceptional painting, this is someone's life's work." She turns it around to show everyone.

It has a nest with two eggs in it: one white, one black. The nest is held by a pair of what looks like a human or elven woman's hands (although could be a half-sil, could also just be a guy or otherwise with nice elegant hands too).

"Is this perhaps a signifier of our two existences being once one?" She blinks, and turns to look at the "others". "You must tell us... does Animus still exist in your world?"

"Needed? Horseshit!" Red-Rune replies, folding her arms under her chest. She eyes Rune in particular. "No, actually. I got it from my father. I haven't talked to my mother since I left home, and I'm keeping it that way."

Shan, as the doppelganger of Harkashan, has been referred to, looks worried. He puts his clawed hand onto Red-Rune's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he says. "Runelei is a very spirited sort. That's what you get when you're dancing to Ceinara's flames, though. I am Shankahar, Hearthguard of the Dragonmother."

The other-Aryia sneers at Aryia. "Are you challenging _me_?" She then lifts a hand to her mouth and laughs terribly. No, her laugh is a terrible, arrogant, and pompous thing that Aryia doesn't remember _ever_ making. "I have no interest in adding any scars to that pretty little face of yours--"

"Okay, enough of that," Telanmo says with a sigh before gesturing at Zeke. "The Sunguard is right. We all deserve an explanation. What in all of the Iron Hells do you mean, we're not people? And what's this painting that the Temperance is pointing out? Also, what's an Animus?"

Ainith makes a long, drawn-out humming sound, flapping his wings. "They are... They are... THEY ARE..." And then he flies around the room in excited little dragon zoomies. "CHARACTERS!"

Nala stares in horror at the little dragon. "Like... fictional characters? From a book?" she asks.

"Let him finish." Zeke chides Nala gently but firmly. He understands her impulse to be upset, but the dragon is an excitable creature and it needs an environment of relaxation not one of further excitableness to make its pronouncements within. "Tell ussss what we need know, oh Honored One." He encourages.

"Ahh, so that's how this goes, then." A smirk plays on the corner of Rune's lips. "Sounds like we've got nearly opposite upbringings. My father was distant and aloof and has damaged his relationship with me in ways you can't imagine, while my mother raised me and passed away when I was little." She doesn't seem to mind sharing a bit of her story, if only to highlight the differences that may lie between the two.

She pointedly does not get into her mother's time-dancing nor her resurrection as that is probably a bit much at the moment. Instead, she inclines her head to Shankahar. "Peace on your nest, Hearthguard. This is my mate, Harkashan, servant of the Death-singing Dragon." She motions at the lava-scaled one next to her.

The prospect that these individuals may be characters from a book have her curious. Someone may be playing into one of Rune's core interests. "Characters?" She literally echos Nala so the two are talking at the same time.

If she could be more pale than she already is, Simony would blanche. "What do you mean, what's an Animus? It's a... Oh. Oooh. I am a goober." She pinches as the bridge of her nose. "Of course all the names would be different."

The Goblin gives her head a little shake. She nods in agreement with Zeke, "Indeed, Ainith is a font of knowledge." The wee woman taps at her chin, though. "So uhm... these others are characters... in a book, written by not-a-person? I mean, they seem real enough to me... is... is someone dreaming things to life?"

"Uh... Zeke? Have you noticed that there isn't an opposite of you or I? Though Nala did say we exist, your opposite is quite different, while mine isn't. Where are they, I wonder?"

"He may not know, Zeke," Telamon responds, as he blinks slowly at Ainith's revelation. "Although... there is more to it than that." He walks over, removing the tarp from a painting, and turning it to show the others: a depiction of Tel's wife Cor'lana, with Pothy at hand. "Gorgeous," he comments. "But that's not the point. How does a picture of my wife appear here?"

"Somehow, someway, this whole..." He pauses, considering, then opts for, "...existence, is connected to ours. The question of 'fictional' is almost irrelevant; I have encountered my daughters who have not even been born yet, and a young woman who could only exist in dreams. Sometimes, 'real' is just a matter of perspective." His eyes move from his friends, to their counterparts. "The real question is where is the connection, and how did it come to be?"

GAME: Simony rolls perception: (8)+25: 33

Harkashan slowly runs his hand along the top of his muzzle, and lets out a deep sigh when the silver dragon reveals the truth. He then reaches into his bag and offers some more chicken-jerky as a reward for giving an answer.

"No, the presence of fictionality is relevant. If you might recall, the paintings within the dream mansion were of us, not of our counterparts..." He glances to Nala.

"Which means that if she is the creator of this fiction, she was aware of us. But she did not seem to recognize us at all..."

He then glances to Nadira. "Which suggests that she is not the Writer of this fiction. Or perhaps even the true origin of the Dream."

Aryia looks briefly at the panting Simony holds up, her tilting her head to the side before her attention whips back to the dopplegangers. Only for it to end up on the other Aryia. That... laugh. Grates on something within her. An eye twitches. "No, I give no challenge, but I will beat a bitch up if I have to, even if the bitch is me. No one does me better than me."

She crosses her arms and glowers, letting the others speak. There's a side eye about characters, and a continual glance to seeing herself. "... if its an opposite me, then we have a lot of problems. I lost my religion, she probably found it." There's a look at Telamon. Then glances to all the dopplegangers. "I don't know, maybe we all had a pivotal point in our lives that would have distinctly changed how we would have ended up? Or one variable that shifted it all?" <Handspeech/Tongues>

"Yuh-huh. Characters. Notrealpeoples." Ainith nods a little at Telamon's ruminating. "Echoes of realpeoples. Goodpeoples! Made into a story to tell to birds."

Nadina's eyes widen at Harkashan's words. "I... I _did_ make a bet with Navos. Didn't I?" she says, her hands shaking. "No, I _know_ I did. I know I did. I _know_ I did..."

While Nadina and Nala both look like they're on the verge of an existential breakdown, the other doppelgangers look uncomfortable. Runelei and the Aryia-doppelganger in particular exchange glances. "I don't think I'm fictional, either," Runelei says. "I'm a person. Just trying to free my father--long story, but he's dead and not dead, and my mother's a real piece of..." Her voice trails off. "Well shit. You and I sound like we are pretty much the same, just... opposites in some ways and not in others."

The Aryia-doppelganger gives a horrible chuckle again. "Oh please," she says. "I don't think I've ever spent a single day of my life in praise of the gods. In fact, I live _in spite_ of the gods. This you see before you? Reconstructed by extensive magic that I fought and killed to get my hands on. I was born a slave and killed and infiltrated my way into nobility. We're nothing alike. And I bet I could beat you any day--"

"You both have highly developed egos, and that's coming from me, Telanmo quips, squeezing Nala protectively. "Okay. So we're characters in a story. So what? What're we supposed to do? What the hell do you mean, a story to tell to birds?"

Ainith looks meaningfully at Zenith. "Bird," he says. "The other bird's missing, though."

Harkashan taps his claws to the ground and considers; "Well, you /think/ you made a bet with Navos. But who says it was truly with Navos?" Harkashan looks to the small white bird.

"I have a request that is likely to... be uncomfortable for you, Zenith." He offers the avian.

"Can you bring us to that moment she describes? To let us witness what /truly/ happened upon that day?"

Zeke lets out a loud harumph. "Ssso what are we sssupposed to *do*?" There's a lot of talking. A lot of trying to explain that stories are real. That people are real. He can understand. If his whole life was a story... he would want to know it wasn't just for the entertainment of another.

"Yeah, I'd say pretty much the same life, but the maternal and paternal roles have been swapped." Blue-Rune confirms with a nod of her head, showing more than a little understanding of just how complicated it can be dealing with the whole 'dead-not-dead' thing. Her eyes look to Aryia. "So perhaps not one defining event, but some important defining aspect of who we are."

She doesn't try to say who is real or not real in this moment, however. Perhaps because, when dealing with her mother, trying to push back against things that someone else truly experienced, usually doesn't work out well. "I mean... my patron is a storyteller to your counterpart where we come from." Rune explains to the silver dragon, "But I imagine this may be a bit different than that."

She looks at Telamon, this time, "Could it be Pothy he's talking about?"

"How did I miss that?", the Goblin wonders of Telamon. She blinks. Scooching closer to the painting, she squints at it. Removes her pince-nez, pulls out a small cloth from a pouch on her hip, cleans the lenses, and replaces the pince-nez upon her nose. "It's the same hand... I swear on my life it is the same hand." It appears then that Simony goes mad, suddenly going to every single painting, to pull the tarps off, to bring the painting down to her level. "Same hand... same hand.. the same hand. One of ME! And Zeke. And Pothy... Cor'lana..." At the end of her madness, she pants. "None of the others, though, the people Telamon's wish brought to us. It's just us!"

Simony rubs at her cheeks, and begins pacing back and forth. nodding at what Rune suggests. "Zenith is from our reality, as is Pothy. They could be.. brothers? If you look at the painting of the two eggs, this seems to fit. Whomever is dreaming this KNOWS us."

Telamon pinches the bridge of his nose, and offers his counterpart a grin. "They do seem to be a bit prickly, eh?" He exhales. "Let's... keep the posturing to a minimum. We're trying to fix things. Stories... have their own power -- ask any Ceinaran. Or Navosian. But..." He pauses, considering Ainith's words and Rune's question.

"I don't... see how. But he might mean Navos, who is also known as the White Raven, not just Pothy." Tel rubs his chin. "Besides, I don't think I can bring Pothy here. More to the point, I'm not sure it'd be safe for him, and his only interest would be what the food tastes like."

As Simony unmasks the paintings, he nods. "We need to find the dreamer. All we're doing right now is wandering the dream. It... has to be someone who knows us well. All of us."

Aryia blinks at hearing her own tale shot back at her. She's about to have a moment of empathy, but then the challenge is risen. And one could swear the next words that formed on silent lips were 'you want to bet on that?'

Thankfully, gracefully, and for the sanity of all in the room Telanmo cuts through their ego measuring contests. "You're absolutely fucking right," she signs, snapping a finger gun towards the alter-Telamon. The pugilist rubs her face. "I don't really know what else is going on until I got back. A lot of black void, I thought that prick banished me or something. Then some nice woman with red hair told me it's all okay and then I was here." She shrugs. The weird shit is at maximum, so she's just letting it all come and go.

There's a slight nod towards Rune. "Yes. She delved into Charn after having our house delegitimized and gained power in the system. I said fuck that and left, and struck out on my own."

She leans a bit over towards Simony to squint at the little gobber's revelation. "... oh shit I think you're right." A look to Telamon. "... RT?" she offers. "Only link I can think of." <Handspeech/Tongues>

Zenith is rigid as Harkashan makes the question. The black-feathered bird stays where he is for a long moment in complete stillness, before he then morphs into that humanoid form of the night-skinned boy with dark hair and ever-blue eyes. "It's fine," he says gently. "I've been replaying that memory every day in my head ever since it happened anyway. It's fine."

"Peoples-must-tell-story-to-birds!" Ainith says excitedly to Zeke. "So that birds can tell new story to Bird-father." Then the little dragon flaps up to be _right_ in front of Telamon's face with those big beautiful dragon eyes of his. "Want-me-to-get-Dreamer?" he asks.

As the little dragon asks, Zenith is waving his finger to a random spot on the wall where a painting once hung. The spot in the wall then... turns dark and shrouded. A door of darkness that leads into darkness. Zenith then slowly turns to the group, his face emotionless. "Are we going or not?" he asks. "And are we taking your fictional counterparts with us?"

Telanmo frowns as Nala sheds a tear. "Just because we're fictional doesn't mean we don't have emotions," he mutters, petting Nala's shoulder.

Zeke places a claw on Nala's other shoulder. "Of courssse you do. You will come with usss. We will go and ssshare wordsss with the dreamer. We will tell a new ssstory. We will make them hear ussss." Zeke does not know who the dreamer will be, but he will make them see the pain that all these people have felt. It is a pain of living. Their lives had been valid even if they had been something different than those of the lives of the people that they had been 'born' from.

Telamon's expression is a bit dour. Considering Zenith's very palpable distress about encountering Nala, he's not sure he wants to bring any of them to see this. No point in cruelty. "I don't know if they need to see this. It's fairly unpleasant."

Then Ainith is in his face, and the sorcerer leans back a bit in surprise. "Wait, you know who it is, Ainith?" He holds up a hand to forestall any further discussion. "I think I need to speak to the dreamer, if nothing else. It's better than having one of the guardians of dreams come pay them a visit to ask what's going on."

All too soon, it seems that they may be finding their way to the moment in time in which a deal was made, or to the dreamer, themselves. Right now, Rune has no theories as to what exactly this strange adventure might be leading them towards, but she does know that it wouldn't be fair to treat these others as mere works of fiction.

So, as the others seem to be moving to follow Zenith, Rune looks to her counterpart, "If it's any consolation... you'll find a way to save your father. The key... at least for me... was a Fey being I met along the way. They were able to give me guidance. So there's probably someone you've already met, who has answers that will help you."

That said, she looks to the others, "Let's see what Zenith has to show us."

Aryia looks about at all the madness before sighing, rubbing her temples with one hand and resting on her back foot. She glances to the side, meeting the other-Aryia's gaze and- they're doing the exact same pose as them. Both quit their stance, chuffing and focusing on what was unveiling.

Aryia from the current time looks between the doorway revealed, and then to the darting Dragon. "For me, I had to hit rock bottom and vowing to never reach that low again," she signs after Rune, then looks to her own counterpart. Her gaze softens. "Surround yourself with friends and you'll discover your true self, and what truly matters."

As for what to do next, she answers by taking a half step towards Zenith. "Regardless of the pick, we'll be brushing up against the gods yet again." <Handspeech/Tongues>

The Goblin swallows noisily at the dark door leading to darkness. "I... I don't like this." She shuffles closer to Telamon and reaches up to tug at his sleeve. "Telamon. You know who The Dreamer is. Like I know who the Holy Raven is. The Dreamer is your Goddess." Her giggle is quite cheeky. Her humor doesn't last long though. She reaches up to cling to his arm.

"Fiction or not. They have their own Agency. If they wish to come, they can come. If they do not, they can remain." Harkashan remarks, considering the other 'him' for a moment. He wonders where that life would have diverged. He was taken to the Shamans so early in life... did Charn never invade Am'shere in their 'reality'?

He's sunken in thought as he steps up to Zenith and puts his hand on their head for a moment, looking down at them. He doesn't offer a smile, but rather, an understanding look. "One thing at a time." He then remarks to the crew. Hearing Simony offer concern about the darkness...

He strides forward with purpose.

"Okay! I-WILL-TAKE-TO-DREAMER!" Ainath crows--

There's a sensation of weightlessness. Falling. Falling. Darkness takes the senses. There's stars in the sky, but there's a dark wolf chasing a silvered woman in the sky, who is giggling as the wolf chases her--

And then Telamon, Aryia, Zeke, Rune, Harkashan, and Simony find themselves in a lovely room somewhere that looks rather palatial, gilded and pristine with immaculate works of art displayed on the walls and on pedestals around the room. A brazier burns gently in front of them, with long benches around the brazier. The place feels warm. Familiar, somehow.

There's a door. It's slightly ajar. It's open enough for a voice to leak through, something feminine. "... So anyway, that's when he said, 'I don't have time for your rewrites, I've got to go consult my oracles!' and I almost threw him out the--oh, my guests are over now. I'll chat with you later, okay, lady? Buh-bye~!"

Footsteps in heavy shoes resound from behind the door, and the door opens to permit one absolutely gorgeous red-headed woman, her hair seeming to bloom into little flames and cinders at the end. Her red-and-orange gown befits her tanned skin, and she almost sways as she walks with a nest in her hands, containing... a sleeping Zenith-bird. Or at least, it looks like Zenith.

Notably, there's no other Zenith with the group. It's just the Zenith in the nest.

"He's dreaming," the woman says with a little sigh. "Don't worry. You could yell into his ear and you'd never wake him up. Which... is actually really rather horrible. I'm so glad one of you summoned little Ainith. I bet you were all getting terribly confused."

The woman strides over to the bench and sets the nest down. "Please! Come sit. I have a story to tell you." She smiles marvelously. "The real one, this time, although I'm afraid the ending is up to all of you to write."

GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/religion: (20)+13: 33
GAME: Simony rolls knowledge/religion: (18)+13: 31
GAME: Aryia rolls knowledge/religion: (10)+10: 20
GAME: Zeke rolls Knowledge/Religion: (3)+27: 30
GAME: Harkashan rolls Knowledge/Religion: (10)+18: 28

Zeke gives the woman a studious look, a very studious look in fact before lowering his voice and asking Telamon a very pertinent question, in a quiet voice. "Would ssshe be consssidered lovely in sssoft-ssskin termssss?"

He blinks a bit owlishly at the woman while he waits for a reply from Telamon and takes one of the pillows that are available for sitting upon. He is pleased that there are sith-friendly seating options. "Thisss one isss pleasssed to ssshare wordssss." Though it seems that they are the only ones to have made it all the way here.

This wasn't what Telamon expected. But then, as he looks around... something flickers in his eyes. Understanding. "Of course," he says quietly. "I'm an idiot. I've been focused on the dream, but--" And then the redheaded woman appears, and Telamon bows politely, before offering the lady a smile. "I'm afraid we were somewhat disoriented, yes." Tel gives Zeke a long look, before nodding. "Very much so. Although I'm partial to brunettes these days." His eyes twinkle with good humor.

He follows along, taking a seat on the next bench over. "Stories. I should have guessed you'd be involved. My wife would be kicking my shins at this point if she was here."

He gives Simony a smirk. "Aren't you glad you didn't bet any money there, Simony? At least, hopefully, we can put this puzzle together." He looks sympathetically at Zenith. "This has to do with what happened before, doesn't it?" Aryia is about to follow after Harkashan as he makes the choice, supporting the Deathsinger's action, but then, a chaotic tiny dragon makes a decree. Well, if there was one consistency between the two dragons, it was their fervent actions. "For fuck's sake-"

Aaaand she's falling. Arms flail- sitting? She blinks, looking around at her feet, then the room. Where's the alter selves? Someone's approaching-

The pugilist blinks. Without thinking, she's already nodding sharply at Zeke's question, even if it was directed at Telamon. Another blink. "Oh. You're the one that took me out of that fight. I had him, you know. But I guess I'm glad for it. I would say thanks but I'm not going to because well-" She gestures broadly at nothing. That explains it all.

She ends up sitting somewhere in all of that ramble. <Handspeech/Tongues>

You would think that a person should get used to being in one place, and then another in short order once it has happened a fair few times. It always leaves Rune feeling a little unsteady on her feet for a few breaths as her senses adapt to a new location.

And then in walks a woman who has Rune blinking in something akin to wonder. She opens her mouth, then quickly closes it again, as if worried that being in the presence of someone quite that beautiful would make for loose lips. A girl can appreciate, though. Politely.

It isn't until she shows that small, sleeping Zenith that at least some pieces fall into place. "Confused... would be an understatement." Though Rune is no expert, she has her theories on just who this woman may be. Her mother was... is a storyteller, afterall.

Yep, Rune sits and is already giving her rapt attention. Stories are her weakness, and this is bound to be an interesting one.

She squeaks noisily several times as they fall, and Simony has an almost green tint to her as she picks herself up. "Erg.. why does it always disrupt my stomach?" She stares at the lady in Red, blinking slowly. When asked to sit, she moves to settle upon the ground before the woman. "They are your characters, aren't they? And you're a wonderful painter.", she says quietly The Goblin glances at Telamon, and simply shrugs. "You cannot deny that it was a very plausible solution.", is her reply, as she pushes her pince-nez back up her nose. "And I am not one to bet hard earned coin on such frivolities."

"One thing at a ti~" Aaaand ZAP. Off they go to Elsewhere.

And they are suddenly in the Realm of the Gods. Approaching a most unusual god. He has not interacted with the Inspiring Dragon before. Yet, as he hears the tone and sees what lies beyond the door, he is quick to recognize her. His gaze slips to the 'sleeping bird', and he lets out a sigh. "Didn't think to focus on that yet." He rumbles, as the pieces immediately fall together. "I understand now."

"Ainith was quite wonderful and helpful." Harkashan then bids the God, as he steps over and puts his hand on the other Sith-makar's shoulder. Careful and slow, not to startle them. Clearly an expert on Sith-makar--Softskin relationships, he then nods his head. "Yes."

And proceeds to get his butt settled down, right next to Rune. He then touches his hand to Rune's shoulder and adds; "You will have to excuse her star-struck gaze. She's quite a fan of your many works."

The woman looks terribly amused by Zeke's whisper. "Would I be?" she asks. "I can look like anyone's idea of beauty, because I _am_ beauty." As she says this, her form changes. She is a splendid-looking sith-makar now, her scales the color and sheen of dancing flames. Then she changes and is an exceedingly handsome man again with flaming-red hair, mirth dancing in his eyes. Then an androgynous shape that is in between. Then dizzyingly, her form rapidly shifts through the faces of everyone that all here have thought before as the most beautiful person: not necessarily in looks, but in who they are, what they are, what they mean to the person beholding this entity...

Until she settles on her feminine form with the dress and the red hair with flames at the end. "I really liked your theory, though, Simony," she says, before looking at Rune. "Oh honey. I'm a fan, too. I mean, the art you've inspired! All of you. You've inspired so many people. You've made people believe that life can be better, that _they_ can one day become heroes. You've also inspired people to lots of jokes and horrible smut, but the horrible smut is art, too, in its earnestness, at least."

She walks to the opposite side of the brazier, which lets the fire decorate people's perception of her. She looks completely and utterly suited to fire. It's to be expected. She is called the Hymn of Fire by the Sildanyari, after all.

"Zenith has been trapped in a dream of his own imagining for eons." She looks horribly sad then. "It all started when I gave ##### two little eggs. He didn't know what to do with them, at first, but I told him to be a good father and to try and make something of them. Anything. Just _make_ something that isn't a clock or a chronicle or something. So he did. One egg hatched with a beautiful raven, with black feathers and gorgeous blue eyes. Then his brother hatched, a beautiful leucistic raven."

The woman sighs. "Then the ass said, 'I really don't know what to do with these,' so I suggested he could make them servitors. But he's always been a methodical one. So, he started testing them. It was okay at first. Sometimes I'd stop by and he'd update me on what the birds were doing and where they were. And then... He lost his Compassion."

Zenith shudders in his sleep.

-TBC

"When the dust settled, I came to visit, and I found out he made... so, so, _so_ many copies of the poor things." The woman's expression is downcast. "Subjecting them to different anomalies in time. Throwing them at timelines that aren't real, copied from the current timeline, or isolating times and then throwing an Apotheosis and a Zenith at them. This little Zenith... He's the one who survived. Thousands and thousands of Zeniths who refused to complete their missions, only to have their existence ended for their disobedience. This little Zenith came to me once he became a servitor, begging me to teach his father Compassion. He _needs_ it back. So... I split him off, and he found all of you and had you follow him into a false timeline in an attempt to write a story that will _move_ the Raven."

The Lady of Inspiration looks at everyone. "I'm sorry the instructions were conveyed so poorly," she says. "Zenith is, effectively, trapped in himself and in a timeline that's not real, so everything got confused and jumbled. You have characters you can instruct and tell to get into position and to tell a beautiful, wonderful story. The key is your Narrator: Nala. The girl who Zenith loved more than anything. She has power over that timeline to rewrite reality to your wishes."