Good morning, Doctor.
You don’t recognize me? Come now, I saw the glint of recognition in your eye when you saw me yesterday.
Ah, now you remember.
No, I’m not dead, obviously. Even though you ran and left your patients to the Scourge.
Why? Well, I can’t run the risk of someone recognizing me. My family only managed to get my death sentence suspended and being executed would be an annoying setback.
Do you see that, on the wall? That shows everyone in Silvermoon and how they’re related. Everyone important to me, that is. If I were a spider, it would be my web.
Yes, my theories were correct. Yes, it does mean what you think it does.
Why doctor, you’ve soiled yourself.
Do you see that swirl in the middle? That’s the Dawnfire family. Such lovely people: murder, incest, rape, sadism, hereditary insanity. You’d find them professionally fascinating, I’m sure.
I know more than Apollo,
For oft when he lies sleeping
I see the stars at bloody wars
In the wounded welkin weeping.*
The paper covered most of a wall in her basement workshop. Lines swooped and swirled in confusing arcs that baffled the eye, connecting odd shapes labeled in strange characters. She stood back and contemplated her work with a frown. Something was missing.
There is a little lamb lost in dark woods …
The whispers had been more insistent than usual. The same mad phrases repeated over and over and over. Her masters were beckoning, she knew the signs. She was called.
The Nether is disturbed. There are comings and goings …
According to the demons she had questioned, the Nether was busier than a village market. The demon lords who ruled it were displeased at the intrusions. But who, and why? That was what she needed to know.
Ariava laid a finger against the glass, tracing her reflection in slow elaborate drags. It was so short. So brown. So, not her. She looked over the image, eyes settling on the blond that was beginning to show through the roots. It gave off a soft auburn glow of deception. Daraman hadn't recognized her, Joyia hadn't either. She leaned forward inspecting the roots. She'd have to get them fixed soon.
The ground was cold, riddled with stony cracks where water had seeped in and turned the floor into a miniature landscape dotted with lakes. I followed the curve of the landscape with fascination, the poison running through me made my mind wander into oblivion far to often, I couldn’t focus, but it also distracted me from the pain. How long had I been here.. a day? A week… months. Everything blurred together into lancing red light and voices I’ve developed a deep seeded hatred for. …
* * * * *
((Special thanks to the fine roleplayers above for a fun late night rp session. I tried to do the scene justice as much as possible without a chatlog available and only my poor memory to rely on. If I failed, the blame is all mine.))
He walked the streets of Silvermoon like a zombie. In his mind, a slow, reverberating chant could be heard in a disturbing mockery of his own voice.
"Mana. Mana. Mana."
More more more.
He clutched his head, squeezing the temples until his head physically ached. He walked, trying to avoid the mana dens but was drawn back to them like a moth to flame. He paced in front of one of the doorways, drawing the attention of several nobles who tut-tutted and clucked their tongues at him.
"Filthy addict," he heard them say. He turned, forced his leaden legs to walk away. Everything was so bright. So bright.
A book lays open...
Observationalist. Aloof. Analyst. Well dressed. Over-thinks. Over-analyzes. Speaks too much. Speaks too little. In control. Not in control. Stalker. Snake. Viper. What type of predator do I think I am?
The rest of the page repeats one word over and over...
At the bottom of the page, hastily written:
...I’m not crazy.
This was one of the oddest dreams Janiil could ever recall having, beyond the ones leading her to frozen star. She was walking in blackness, but a spotlight seemed to follow her about illuminating her and a few feet around her. All she could make out however was stonework an endless plain of stonework. Above her Jan could see stars and every now an then a crackle of lightning crisscrossing the sky. But everything surrounding her was just a fog of darkness.
"So serene is it not?"
Janiil spun around upon hearing the voice, behind her stood a man. Only he was heavily shrouded by a large cowl and heavy dark gray robes. There seemed to be a certain cold aura about him that whisped about his clothes. She could only see the lower half of his face which seemed normal enough. More disturbingly though were the ice blue eyes that glowed from within the cowl.