Trapped in the mist

Vilas

He didn't stop to take another look at the skeleton and its single, unblinking eye, too surprised by the monster's sudden appearance to even consider doing anything else but grab Lasair by the arm as they bolted the scene. How he hadn't sensed something so gigantic, the mage could only wonder about later.

Running away was easier said than done. Every other step they seemed to nearly trip over a sleeping stranger (or so Vilas hoped), or bump into one of the floating eyes, and when it was neither of those, it was some wicked pothole on the road the traffic to the Tourney and back had created during the past few days that threatened to twist one of their ankles. Meanwhile, the skeleton needed but a few steps to catch up to them, its tall neck reaching high above the mist, almost fully obscured.

He didn't dare to stop, not fully, but he slowed his steps enough to dig up a small flask from the leather pouch on his belt. A spark of magic crackled inside the sealed glass flask and once uncorked, he threw it at the skeleton's leg as swiftly as he could. It erupted upon impact, but if the monster had felt the flame that little safety measure had created, there was no telling and neither was Vilas willing to wait to find out.

This time it was him who ushered Lasair to move, jumping slightly when the redhead nearly fell over, startled awake at the last moment. "Here, hold onto my arm," Vilas offered in a hurried whisper. Whether due to the mist or the monster itself, it looked like the dreams hadn't given up on claiming them just yet.

(285)

Lasair

Lethargy came as silently and brutally as the monster had, and from one moment to the next, Lasair was running, then dropping her head as her sight winked out for that nightmarish inky black, calling out to fall into its dreams like a yawning abyss.

She bit down on her tongue with her sharp teeth, tasting blood as she took Vilas' offer and held onto his arm as much as her shackles would allow. But that only afforded her another few steps before her legs started giving out on her, and she breathed back, "I can't," as the eye of the monster caught the both of them in its focus. It stared, dragging them both under with the crushing weight of sleep.

She lost moments of time in fighting to stay awake. One moment she was falling to her knees, the next she was being carried in Vilas' arms with the bulky weight of her wings making it more difficult than it should've been. She couldn't keep her eyes open when he leaned his head down and hissed, "Hold your breath," just as the monster's massive skeletal hoof was shadowing above them, ready to come down.

Again the two of them fell apart into incorporeal  nothingness, and all Lasair was and ever would be was dragged along by Vilas' magic, narrowly avoiding being crushed to death under the monster's step. They came back to reality before a forgotten little hut, stumbling through the door and slamming it behind them, but by then, Lasair had lost the fight against that beckoning dream, and fell back into that haunting sleep.

(268)

Vilas

Were it not for the terror roaring in their veins - both of them believing to have only narrowly escaped an awful death - perhaps they might've noticed the people slumbering peacefully at the monster's feet. Safe, no matter where the beast placed its massive hoof, but be as it may, they had escaped.

Almost, Vilas feeling himself tense up the moment Lasair went limp against his side, holding his breath as he sat both of them down against the nearest wall, the place dusty and cluttered with what looked like moth-eaten quilts and furniture that was about to fall apart. What mattered most was that it was empty, and with the horrors on the outside temporarily forced out of his mind, he turned Lasair in his arms to let her head rest against his shoulder, her wings awkwardly folded.

"You mustn't fall asleep," He urged in a quiet voice, softly hissing, "Lasair!" but with very little effect.

That dream wasn't hers, she had said as much herself - there was a monster in the waking world, daydreaming could wait for another day.

Vilas kept murmuring to her anything that came to mind in an attempt to stir her, too terrified to move from the spot. Not once did it occur to him to set her down, this supposed enemy of his he'd been ready to all but beat into the ground just hours ago.

(232)

Lasair

His words filtered down into her dreaming abyss like dust raining from high rafters, and she raised her head towards them, shouting back to shake her, something, but of course her sleeping body said none of that.

Trapped as she was in the dream, Lasair stood on edge, waiting for those falsely idyllic scenes to bleed back in and try to tell her that these dreams were hers, surely, they must be!

There was none of that. The only haunting image that joined her now was that mirror image of herself she'd yelled at the last time, seemingly aware of her now.

Did those pretty dreams not tempt you? The past version of herself crooned in all her deadly beauty. It was horrifyingly strange to see herself smile like a devil and tap darkened claws against her smirking, dark red lips.

"Why would they?" Lasair grinned nervously, stepping back, feeling like she was speaking to the dead. "They have nothing to do with me."

Mm, true....I don't blame you, really, Her past self stalked towards her with a flawless swaying walk. They stopped appealing to me as well, before the end. 

Lasair couldn't back away fast enough as this dead version of herself caught up, ensnaring her wrists in those deadly claws. This close, her breath caught in her throat to see a red gaze staring back and a deadly grin promising nothing but blood as this ghost asked, Shall I show you what we really dreamed of?

Lasair ripped her arms free of that grip. "A generous offer I'm sure, but not one I'm interested in, thank you very much!" She turned to run, and she could hear her past self laugh with such cruel delight.

What a coward I became, That self purred behind her as Lasair ran. A bird, to chase, to eat.

Vilas' words filtered down from above, calling to her to wake, wake up! And Lasair yelled back, "I'm trying! Do something, Vilas!"

Run, darling, came that horrible voice, dangerously close. Make this fun. 

Lasair dared a glance behind her, just as a red-eyed manticore leapt ahead of her, making her scream and skid to a halt as the manticore changed seamlessly into a beautiful, terrifying, amber dragon.

One of its massive claws came down on her, trapping and crushing her in a prison around her ribs. Ahhh....how sweet is the hunt, That dragon crooned, opening its maw wide, and Lasair had the perfect view of hellish embers coming to life in that monstrous throat. See for yourself. 

And Lasair was consumed, dragged down into that cloying dream as intended, and int he waking world, her body relaxed in Vilas' arms with the beginnings of an awful smile.

(455)

Vilas

"Shit," Vilas cursed through clenched teeth. Trying to speak her awake wasn't working, leaving him with just a few options, none exactly pleasant.

How in Fortune's name Lasair had managed to jolt him awake after the crash, he didn't have a clue. Maybe it'd been simply dumb luck, the dream about his blasted family too jarring for him to bear another second asleep, but he'd need to try.

The same, thundering roar from before could be heard, unnerving him enough to lightly shake Lasair while calling her name. It would be safer in the hut, but if they'd need to run, he couldn't rely on his magic alone to keep them out of harm's way for long. The earlier sprint here had taken its toll, his breathing taking a lot longer to settle than it should. Were it not for using so much of his energy earlier to help numb the pain of her broken wrist, the situation could be different.

Now though, he felt weary, ill-equipped to do little else but to keep an eye out for any sings of danger.

(182)

Lasair

If he wanted signs of danger, all he had to do was take a peek behind Lasair's eyes at the dream she was having. 

A dream for her. A nightmare for everyone else. 

Hellfire rained down from the blackened sky as Lasair danced on high, spinning a stranger effortlessly in her arms. Who it was didn't matter - a lord she used to pander to in her glory days, a witchfinder who thought they could bring her to heel - she dipped them low, exposing their ripped-out throat that barely hung by a thread, laughed at the sight, and dropped them in a lifeless heap. 

She stepped over so many remnants of the dead with her heels finding every space between sprawled hand and limb that clawed for release until their last breath and made her way towards a fine balcony overlooking the sweetest sight she'd ever seen, one that filled her with malicious delight. 

The Tower of Namarast, burning from root to branch. 

Lasair could practically hear the screams from her perch, sounding like the highest form of music, pairing perfectly with a glass of red wine. A glance down below was just as satisfying, as those under her beck and call furthered her destruction by spell and blade, cutting down anyone who hoped to oppose her. It was mayhem, it was carnage, and it was glorious.

The floor shook as though in a minor quake, but she paid it little mind as she turned around and leaned her elbows on the balustrade, her brow heavy with the crown of a vanquished enemy who thought to keep her from all of this. She watched a silent, suffering parade of her conquests, all in connected chains, and saw a notable one she called to stop, satisfaction burning in her stomach along with the wine and taste of blood.  

It was the dark-haired man from that disgustingly sweet dream before. Lasair tilted his chin up between clawed forefinger and thumb, feeling the rough edges of scars under her touch, the only indicator of who he might be. 

Wasn't he dead? 

No matter. If she watched a red line grow across his throat, the mark of the Order's guillotine, she could always summon her necromancer on call, couldn't she? There was every solution when she had all the world under her heel. Whatever she wanted was ripe for the taking.

The ground trembled again as she waved the conquests onward, and she spun to Fortune's luring call. What would she crave next? What heights would she climb, what power would she claim for herself? The sky was the limit as it rumbled and jarred the world with lightning so fierce that she could feel its sting on her face. 

Lasair danced to Fortune's song, beautiful down to the depths of her rotten soul. Death, power, destruction, all of it was hers. The lightning struck closer, and she wanted more, the thrum of it vibrating in her bones with a devastating thrill. Nothing would ever be enough -

Vilas slapped her again, and it was absolutely jarring to open her eyes again. 

Lasair was stunned awake, her face red and likely to bruise.

Tears stung at her eyes, welling up of their own accord, but from the strike or from the dream, she couldn't say.

She just came back to reality in Vilas' worried arms as a sob wracked her hollow bones, making her turn her face into his shoulder to cry as a cacophony of emotion boiled over into messy tears, too many and too tangled to name.

(593)

Vilas

Any dignified apologies for the harsh wake-up would have to wait for later, Lasair's sob more of a relief than a source of horror in that moment.

"Sorry," Vilas breathed, the surprise at her distraught reaction tempering into a silent offer of comfort. With his chin resting against the top of her head, he merely held her, mindful of that sling and the broken wrist resting against Lasair's chest as she cried her heart out.

He felt her tremble and hiccup, brushing his fingers idly through the downy feathers of her folded wings when no words felt quite right in his mouth, his eyes fluttering closed from the mounting weariness. If someone or something would find them due to Lasair's sobs, they'd deal with it then. For now, he let her lean against his shoulder. Cry, wail, anything that'd help her settle, stirring from his own quiet fight against tiredness and the creeping sleep here and there just to murmur something inane against her red hair.

It wasn't much, and he was hardly the right person to soothe her, but it was something, the distant rumbling and roars slipping from his mind.

When was the last time he had held someone?

(201)