Dreams were supposed to be soft edged and indistinct, a muted, nonsensical realm of things unreal and half remembered. Blood changed all that. It tied the minds of a pair of sleepers with an intangible bond, and now and then gifted one or the other (sometimes even both) with glimpses of true memories, undiluted by time, fresh and sharp as the day the events had taken place.
Depraved gluttony one dark evening in early spring had practically assured it, and for Evander Antony, there was a rare opportunity to see things he might otherwise be forever ignorant too. His lover spoke little of his past, and was not often generous in speaking of his feelings, but Mesteno trusted him well enough to share blood and risk the often harsh revelations. There were things he was not proud of, others he wished he might forget entirely, and sometimes, it was precisely those things dredged up for train wreck viewing in the dreamscapes?
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"No, you don't understand!?
At first glance it seemed like an impossible confrontation; Mesteno, slim as a knife and indomitable, was stood before a giant of some seven feet in height, built like a behemoth and taut with agitation. This man was not unknown to Evander though, even in the obscure and lurid violet light which seemed to emanate from a system of crystalline roots climbing the walls of the tunnel they stood in. Faendal, solemn eyed and armour clad loomed over the necromancer, whilst behind him a river roared.
?The force of the water will be too much for the ropes. There's no point in fastenin' ourselves to it. We'll just be more weight, they?ll come loose and get dragged downstream.?
The river was rising, a wild, rapid flowing waterway some thirty feet across. On the other side, stood in a tunnel opposite theirs and some several feet higher up, a cluster of Vham?rians and Alfar looked on. Evander might even recognise himself, stood alongside Bjorn and Ivanya who themselves seemed in deep discussion about what to do for their imperilled friends.
"Well then we must head back up the tunnel the way we came!" Faendal told him, jabbing a finger in that direction as if he thought he might be confused.
"It's still gonna flood if it gets this high! We need to get across to the other side while we still got time! You two, f***in' go!"
A pair of parallel ropes spanned the river, by which the others had made the dangerous journey across, but time was fast running out. Despite the swift obedience of the warriors Mesteno had commanded to cross, there were still eight men to make the same journey, and it was plain none would make it. In no time at all, the water came lapping up over the edge of the chasm and began to spill, swirling around their boots, carrying with it the ?swarms? that an informant, ?Wolfe?, had warned them about.
Evander might recall the panicked beasts, animals native to the Weave who struggled into the shallows and instinctively snapped at anything they came across, scaled and snake-headed, some of them already injured from being battered against the tunnel walls as the river swept them inexorably along, others bobbing corpses. Wading through the gory, infested waters was slow going, and as Mesteno and his companions, Faendal and Joshua amongst them attempted to retreat, they were barrelled into, tumbled over repeatedly.
At the time, Evander had been busy attempting to return to them, only to be opposed by the proscribed Vham?rian King and the Alfar warlord who physically restrained him. ?No! Mesteno! Let me go, I have to help him ? motherf***in' let me goddamn go!?
In all likelihood he?d never witnessed the way Mesteno had stood still, peering up at the struggling figures with an expression heart-wrenchingly fearful. ?Don?t let him, don?t you f***ing let him,? he?d murmured, before one of the beasts reared up before him.
The tunnels echoed with the crack of gunfire, and the men battled in earnest against the thrashing beasts, but the memory was implacable. There would be no happy ending for this scenario, and as true as it had happened in life, the eight were swept away in the torrent, washed from sight amidst lizard-like bodies and tangled ropes.
Snatched by an undercurrent, laden in his armour, Mesteno sank like a rock, his eyes wide open and his cheeks bulging with hastily swallowed air. The light of the submerged vines turned the underwater world into a violet cast nightmare, one in which Evander played witness to every wild attempt to cling to the walls with bleeding fingers and torn nails. Every battering the warriors took as they were spun into one another, into the walls, into the half-drowned beasts. Blood burst loose in clouds from thrashing, injured limbs, and debris from the shattered bridge struck at them, chipped away at failing reserves. There was no sound but the river, no respite from the distressing sight of them succumbing, one by one, to exhaustion and the simple need to breathe. There was no surface to swim for, no air pocket to gasp in? only clouds of bubbles escaping mouths yawning wide open.
One by one they drowned. Familiar faces forever lost, and inevitably, Mesteno?s strength waned just like the others?, whipped about like a rag doll at the whims of the storm-driven river.
The memory darkened like a day?s end, and the noise subsided, became distant.
It was difficult to tell how long had passed between the moment his lungs had flooded, and the moment the necromancer woke, coughing and retching and utterly alone, but the lights had vanished. Evander might see now as Mesteno saw, in perfect clarity and even with glimpses of colour, despite the place he?d been washed to being pitch black. Nocturnal vision like his was a preternatural gift, and in those moments as he?d hunched over on his knees, dripping and weak, he?d needed it. Full of trembling and spasms, he?d strained to find the others, the gold of his eyes vivid behind lashes wetted to spikes, but there was no one sharing the shore he?d reached. Not even a body to crawl to.
When at last the coughing subsided, and he?d spat the befouled liquid as best he could from his mouth, he collapsed belly down, panting hoarsely with red-rimmed eyes. His face seemed to crumple, teeth gritted against an unwelcome need to sob, and it was typical that he choked it back, squeezing his eyes shut and growling at himself. The others were dead, he thought. Those who?d been swept away with him were drowned - he?d seen it! Yet there was a memory to comfort.
?They got him,? he murmured to no one. ?They got him??
Depraved gluttony one dark evening in early spring had practically assured it, and for Evander Antony, there was a rare opportunity to see things he might otherwise be forever ignorant too. His lover spoke little of his past, and was not often generous in speaking of his feelings, but Mesteno trusted him well enough to share blood and risk the often harsh revelations. There were things he was not proud of, others he wished he might forget entirely, and sometimes, it was precisely those things dredged up for train wreck viewing in the dreamscapes?
-----------------------------
"No, you don't understand!?
At first glance it seemed like an impossible confrontation; Mesteno, slim as a knife and indomitable, was stood before a giant of some seven feet in height, built like a behemoth and taut with agitation. This man was not unknown to Evander though, even in the obscure and lurid violet light which seemed to emanate from a system of crystalline roots climbing the walls of the tunnel they stood in. Faendal, solemn eyed and armour clad loomed over the necromancer, whilst behind him a river roared.
?The force of the water will be too much for the ropes. There's no point in fastenin' ourselves to it. We'll just be more weight, they?ll come loose and get dragged downstream.?
The river was rising, a wild, rapid flowing waterway some thirty feet across. On the other side, stood in a tunnel opposite theirs and some several feet higher up, a cluster of Vham?rians and Alfar looked on. Evander might even recognise himself, stood alongside Bjorn and Ivanya who themselves seemed in deep discussion about what to do for their imperilled friends.
"Well then we must head back up the tunnel the way we came!" Faendal told him, jabbing a finger in that direction as if he thought he might be confused.
"It's still gonna flood if it gets this high! We need to get across to the other side while we still got time! You two, f***in' go!"
A pair of parallel ropes spanned the river, by which the others had made the dangerous journey across, but time was fast running out. Despite the swift obedience of the warriors Mesteno had commanded to cross, there were still eight men to make the same journey, and it was plain none would make it. In no time at all, the water came lapping up over the edge of the chasm and began to spill, swirling around their boots, carrying with it the ?swarms? that an informant, ?Wolfe?, had warned them about.
Evander might recall the panicked beasts, animals native to the Weave who struggled into the shallows and instinctively snapped at anything they came across, scaled and snake-headed, some of them already injured from being battered against the tunnel walls as the river swept them inexorably along, others bobbing corpses. Wading through the gory, infested waters was slow going, and as Mesteno and his companions, Faendal and Joshua amongst them attempted to retreat, they were barrelled into, tumbled over repeatedly.
At the time, Evander had been busy attempting to return to them, only to be opposed by the proscribed Vham?rian King and the Alfar warlord who physically restrained him. ?No! Mesteno! Let me go, I have to help him ? motherf***in' let me goddamn go!?
In all likelihood he?d never witnessed the way Mesteno had stood still, peering up at the struggling figures with an expression heart-wrenchingly fearful. ?Don?t let him, don?t you f***ing let him,? he?d murmured, before one of the beasts reared up before him.
The tunnels echoed with the crack of gunfire, and the men battled in earnest against the thrashing beasts, but the memory was implacable. There would be no happy ending for this scenario, and as true as it had happened in life, the eight were swept away in the torrent, washed from sight amidst lizard-like bodies and tangled ropes.
Snatched by an undercurrent, laden in his armour, Mesteno sank like a rock, his eyes wide open and his cheeks bulging with hastily swallowed air. The light of the submerged vines turned the underwater world into a violet cast nightmare, one in which Evander played witness to every wild attempt to cling to the walls with bleeding fingers and torn nails. Every battering the warriors took as they were spun into one another, into the walls, into the half-drowned beasts. Blood burst loose in clouds from thrashing, injured limbs, and debris from the shattered bridge struck at them, chipped away at failing reserves. There was no sound but the river, no respite from the distressing sight of them succumbing, one by one, to exhaustion and the simple need to breathe. There was no surface to swim for, no air pocket to gasp in? only clouds of bubbles escaping mouths yawning wide open.
One by one they drowned. Familiar faces forever lost, and inevitably, Mesteno?s strength waned just like the others?, whipped about like a rag doll at the whims of the storm-driven river.
The memory darkened like a day?s end, and the noise subsided, became distant.
It was difficult to tell how long had passed between the moment his lungs had flooded, and the moment the necromancer woke, coughing and retching and utterly alone, but the lights had vanished. Evander might see now as Mesteno saw, in perfect clarity and even with glimpses of colour, despite the place he?d been washed to being pitch black. Nocturnal vision like his was a preternatural gift, and in those moments as he?d hunched over on his knees, dripping and weak, he?d needed it. Full of trembling and spasms, he?d strained to find the others, the gold of his eyes vivid behind lashes wetted to spikes, but there was no one sharing the shore he?d reached. Not even a body to crawl to.
When at last the coughing subsided, and he?d spat the befouled liquid as best he could from his mouth, he collapsed belly down, panting hoarsely with red-rimmed eyes. His face seemed to crumple, teeth gritted against an unwelcome need to sob, and it was typical that he choked it back, squeezing his eyes shut and growling at himself. The others were dead, he thought. Those who?d been swept away with him were drowned - he?d seen it! Yet there was a memory to comfort.
?They got him,? he murmured to no one. ?They got him??