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Post by Marshmallow on Dec 29, 2018 1:55:33 GMT -6
Stress was a normal part of a crime lord's day. But ever since learning of the existence of Hounds within the city from Isaac, stress had begun to consume Malthiel's entire life. When it came to mortal threats, he was confident in his superiority and held no fear. But now... Now he was afraid. Hounds did not simply appear in a three-dimensional plane on a whim. Hounds were hunters, trackers, tools. And he could not shake the paranoia that they were hunting him specifically.
As rare as it was already for him to be seen without the blood-red gemstone at his throat, he and the Darkstone had become truly inseparable. He maintained a constant link to the shadows, paranoid for every flicker at his back. And the strain that brought gave him a new respect for Isaac's tolerance, in addition to a whole new kind of stress. Every day was a migraine, to be drowned out in borderline-dangerous doses of pain killers. His temper was short even at the best of times, and his insistence that he was fine, just tired, just working too hard, turned sharper every time he said it.
He needed a break, needed to unwind before he lashed out at someone he truly cared about. He knew that much at least.
The Darkstone was pried away for the first time in nearly three weeks. Malthiel forced himself to leave it in its case at his bedside, determined to get at least a few hours' relief.
He meant to just relax and read for a time. Falling asleep was unintentional. And when he woke many hours later, he still felt as if he were dreaming. There was a peculiar feeling... a sort of pull in his thoughts, like something was trying to take him somewhere. Not him, just his mind. It was an abstract thought, and in his sleep haze, he was inclined to follow it.
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Post by Sharei on Dec 29, 2018 1:56:26 GMT -6
The pathway was a twisting thing, fickle and hard to grasp like smoke, but as Malthiel followed it down its roundabout trail he eventually encountered thicker and more stable roads. They latched on to Malthiel's vapor-thoughts and anchored them, drawing them in, until Malthiel's consciousness was sliding along a system of dark roots, as though from some massive tree.
F̸i̴n̶a̸l̷l̷y̷.̵
Sexless. Ageless. Even voiceless, the word was more an impression of it on the consciousness than real sound. It carried a weight impossible to ignore yet easy to bear. It closed in around Malthiel with welcoming arms, enfolding his entire mind.
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Post by Marshmallow on Dec 29, 2018 1:57:05 GMT -6
Am I dreaming?
Malthiel followed the dark, winding trail of thought willingly. It was a strange sensation. He felt conscious, and yet disconnected. Lucid dreaming? What an irony...
Though he did not yet understand the nature of the weight that folded in around his mind, he took comfort in the imagined embrace. After the turmoil of the past weeks, the voice, the impression, was like a soothing balm against his thoughts. He nestled against it, feeling strangely small. Like a whelp hiding beneath the curtain of his mother's tentacles, safe from the looming dangers of the abyss.
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Post by Sharei on Dec 29, 2018 2:00:29 GMT -6
N̴o̶t̶ ̷d̵r̷e̷a̷m̴i̷n̵g̸.̷
The gentle pressure became the sensation of someone running their hands through Malthiel's hair. Loving, attentive, like a doting parent or a lover.
Y̴o̴u̷ ̵a̶r̸e̴ ̴f̵i̵n̶a̴l̶l̴y̶ ̸w̶a̶k̶i̸n̵g̵.̷
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Post by Marshmallow on Dec 29, 2018 2:01:11 GMT -6
Waking? I don't understand.
Malthiel sighed. He was still lying alone in his bed, but the impression of fingers in his hair was almost tangible. Without thinking he turned, leaning into the imagined sensation.
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Post by Sharei on Dec 29, 2018 2:01:17 GMT -6
The palm of a hand against Malthiel's cheek; the brush of fingers along his jaw; the impression of warmth and comfort and safety.
W̸o̷n̷'̶t̷ ̴y̵o̷u̵ ̷c̷o̸m̵e̵ ̸h̴o̴m̵e̴ ̴t̶o̸ ̵m̶̗͛e̸̹͘?̷̞̔
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Post by Marshmallow on Dec 29, 2018 2:02:00 GMT -6
Home...
The word brought feelings of both warmth and sadness. It awakened a deep longing, but a sense of dread. Home was death.
You sound like... his thoughts trailed off there, unwilling to even consider the name. But the impression of gold irises glittering in the depths of unimaginable darkness swam behind his eyes all the same.
He frowned and turned away from the ghostly touch. I can't go home.
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Post by Sharei on Dec 29, 2018 2:02:41 GMT -6
T̴h̸a̷t̴ ̶i̷s̴n̴'̶t̶ ̸y̴o̸u̴r̶ ̷h̵o̶m̶e̴,̸ ̴l̸i̶t̴t̵l̷e̷ ̴o̶n̵e̷.̵ A gentle chide. A soft rebuke. The sexless words wound themselves deeper into Malthiel's consciousness, drawing him back toward it.
Malthiel?
A new voice. Faint at first, then abruptly there, like a radio tuned in to the right station with startling sudden clarity. The voice was the same as the first but more distinct, male, a physical presence in the mind - Isaac's. With it came shock, green-tinted and edged with amazement. ... Malthiel?!
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Post by Marshmallow on Dec 29, 2018 2:03:54 GMT -6
Malthiel frowned. He tossed in his bed, unaware of the way the shadows pulsed at the edges of the bedroom. He was too distracted with this odd half-dream. What do you mean, not my home? Where else..?
The second voice caught him by surprise. 'Isaac?' His thoughts turned sluggishly, scattered and lost. Brow furrowed in confusion, he pushed himself up on his elbow and squinted into the dark, half expecting to find Isaac at his bedside for the voice had been so clear. 'What is this? I'm dreaming, aren't I?'
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Post by MP on Dec 29, 2018 2:04:10 GMT -6
At this answer, at the feel of this foreign - familiar? - other presence, there was a faint response. Not an answer. A hush. A peripheral presence, like something hunkering into the grass, or a pair of wide eyes watching from the underbrush, focused on this newness.
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Post by Sharei on Dec 29, 2018 2:04:49 GMT -6
Sohl? The impression of a head turn as Isaac felt the boy's retreat, more notable for its quieting than his usual presence. Sohl, can you hear that too or am I going crazy?
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Post by MP on Dec 29, 2018 2:05:12 GMT -6
I...I hear it.
The words were little more than a whisper, but they had an odd stuttering feel, like a faulty record. The impression of a water glass wobbling. A clumsy hand correcting. The listener was clearly struggling to focus.
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Post by Sharei on Dec 29, 2018 2:05:31 GMT -6
Isaac's reach was a mental caress, a gentle embrace, as he wrapped a more experienced mind around Sohl's to offer a buffer for the younger of the three. It did not block out their voices, but filtered them more carefully, and reduced the intensity.
He wasn't entirely sure how he knew to do it, only that it came to him suddenly.
Better?
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Post by MP on Dec 29, 2018 2:05:38 GMT -6
Better, said the voice, a little more steadily. There was a listening silence. Uncertainty.
Who is - what’s happened?
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Post by Sharei on Dec 29, 2018 2:06:08 GMT -6
I... don't know, Isaac's voice muttered uncertainly. Malthiel?
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