Vhalar 70, Arc 720
That night, the Mortalborn woke to a world that was shrouded in shadows. He had decided to call the process of falling asleep and moving from the waking world to Emea only to find yourself in a lucid dream waking, even though it was not a completely accurate analogy. He had not found a better word for it yet though. Perhaps there were no words that could describe the strange world that he had begun to study over the course of the past arc accurately. Perhaps, the language of mortals was entirely insufficient to describe Emea.
He found himself walking the streets of Viden, as he often did. There were people that dreamed of the fantastic, of fighting monsters, of things that could never exist in reality. The Mortalborn’s dreams on the other hand tended to show him slightly different versions of the waking world, alternate realities, worlds that could have been if only a tiny thing had happened differently. Sometimes, his dreams also showed him what had been, or what ought to be.
The sun was just about to set, he noticed, as he momentarily raised his head, and the sky was painted in different shades of red, pink and orange that were mixed with dark clouds. The shadows on the ground were growing longer and longer, but he could still see his surroundings with some manner of clarity. It was warm, unusually warm for a part of the world where the temperatures usually varied between very cold and very, very cold. The snow that normally covered the ground had melted for the most part, and been replaced with dirt.
During the Hot Cycle, Viden had been troubled by an unusual heatwave. He remembered wondering if it was a sign, a sign of worse things that were yet to come, if the weather was of supernatural origin. There had been bugs as well. Was that why he was dreaming of warmth now, because he had spent so much time studying the weather back then? Sometimes, it was spring or summer in his dreams, but this here was different.
This was not the Viden filled with vibrant green grass, trees and sweet-smelling flowers that he sometimes dreamed of, but very close to what it had looked like in the waking world without snow.
The Mortalborn’s gaze drifted to the buildings around him, and the windows that were filled with light. The inhabitants of Viden had already started to light their lamps, and soon, someone would take care of the streetlamps as well. For a moment, he wondered, what would happen if he knocked on one of those doors, and who he would talk to, if those people existed in the waking world, or if his dreaming mind had come up with them.
Sometimes, he dreamed of people that he really knew, especially people that he was well acquainted with – his servant Elias had already appeared in several of his dreams, for example. It made sense that his mind populated the houses that he had never entered in the waking world with its own creations, but he was not sure what to call people that only existed in a dream. But then again, did everything need a name?
That night, the Mortalborn woke to a world that was shrouded in shadows. He had decided to call the process of falling asleep and moving from the waking world to Emea only to find yourself in a lucid dream waking, even though it was not a completely accurate analogy. He had not found a better word for it yet though. Perhaps there were no words that could describe the strange world that he had begun to study over the course of the past arc accurately. Perhaps, the language of mortals was entirely insufficient to describe Emea.
He found himself walking the streets of Viden, as he often did. There were people that dreamed of the fantastic, of fighting monsters, of things that could never exist in reality. The Mortalborn’s dreams on the other hand tended to show him slightly different versions of the waking world, alternate realities, worlds that could have been if only a tiny thing had happened differently. Sometimes, his dreams also showed him what had been, or what ought to be.
The sun was just about to set, he noticed, as he momentarily raised his head, and the sky was painted in different shades of red, pink and orange that were mixed with dark clouds. The shadows on the ground were growing longer and longer, but he could still see his surroundings with some manner of clarity. It was warm, unusually warm for a part of the world where the temperatures usually varied between very cold and very, very cold. The snow that normally covered the ground had melted for the most part, and been replaced with dirt.
During the Hot Cycle, Viden had been troubled by an unusual heatwave. He remembered wondering if it was a sign, a sign of worse things that were yet to come, if the weather was of supernatural origin. There had been bugs as well. Was that why he was dreaming of warmth now, because he had spent so much time studying the weather back then? Sometimes, it was spring or summer in his dreams, but this here was different.
This was not the Viden filled with vibrant green grass, trees and sweet-smelling flowers that he sometimes dreamed of, but very close to what it had looked like in the waking world without snow.
The Mortalborn’s gaze drifted to the buildings around him, and the windows that were filled with light. The inhabitants of Viden had already started to light their lamps, and soon, someone would take care of the streetlamps as well. For a moment, he wondered, what would happen if he knocked on one of those doors, and who he would talk to, if those people existed in the waking world, or if his dreaming mind had come up with them.
Sometimes, he dreamed of people that he really knew, especially people that he was well acquainted with – his servant Elias had already appeared in several of his dreams, for example. It made sense that his mind populated the houses that he had never entered in the waking world with its own creations, but he was not sure what to call people that only existed in a dream. But then again, did everything need a name?
