Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr
Wedged between the lake and the rest of the vast bowl are the dusty feeding grounds. Here, the well-trampled ground is contained by a sturdy wooden fence, cutting right through one end of the lake to section it off into a muddy watering hole for the animals. Several gates allow people in and out, while at the back, large overhangs of rock provide the herd -- a mixed bag of herdbeasts, wing-clipped wherries, and fat porcines -- shelter from storms or the hot sun. What grass survives is usually bloodstained, but feeding troughs are stationed around the edges of the pen.
Until that incident with little Kazavoth, it had not been a terribly usual thing for H'kon to be present at his dragon's feeding. Since then... The midmorning thus finds him there with Arekoth no sooner than they've returned from sweeps, slowly stripping off his riding gear as sun begins to burn off enough fog that it can be felt - for all it's still too humid for it to dry the sweat in his hair and at his neck. He is laying his gloves together, and letting them drape over the fence, as Arekoth's circling becomes more specific, as the herd begins to fret.
From the direction of the barracks, a pudgy green dragonet leads her weyrling along; she's past halfway as tall as him now, her upraised head nearly reaching his shoulder as she stops, looks around for him, then bounds forward again. That it's Arekoth by the pens does not go unnoticed by little (or not so little, now) Cailluneth, and she creels excitedly at the brown, no doubt recalling the favour done for her clutchbrother. When N'ky realises, his steps falter and he gives H'kon an awkward look, biting down on his lip as he considers whether to turn around and go back in until later. But Cailluneth's already at the fence, forepaws resting on the highest rung she can reach, wings half-stretched for balance as she peers through the dissipating fog with excitement whirling in her eyes. Her lanky teenaged weyrling slips in beside her, giving the brownrider a shy nod of his head and finger-wiggling wave of hello.
To N'ky, Cailluneth's mind fills with excitement; bubbling over with bright white. He's going to kill. No need for words; the wash of lifeblood crimson that sweeps her thoughts says it all.
To Cailluneth, N'ky reminds of the caverns, of Hraedhyth's orders, of getting in trouble. « We watch only, Cailluneth. We're not supposed to be near Arekoth. »
To N'ky, Cailluneth remembers, and emphasises that there is a fence separating her from the brown dragon. How can that be 'near'?
It's the creel that catches H'kon's attention. He turns, two-handed grip on his gloves turning into a clench when he spots the weyrling pair. Clench turns to twist when that little green comes bounding up. Arekoth's focus seemingly remains unbroken, but there's something the more grandiose now when he dips a little lower, flexing his talons, studying the patterns of the herd today. He knows he's being watched. And so does his rider. "You might reconsider letting her lead you here, weyrling."
To H'kon, Arekoth projects, « I'm telling you, they love me. »
To Arekoth, H'kon projects, « They love wherries. Keep to yourself. »
Cailluneth watches intensely, studying as much as revelling in a ritual she clearly can't wait to partake in. A rumbling, growl-like purr emanates from her throat, and she remains stock still save for the slightest movement of her head as she tracks both Arekoth and the herd below him. N'ky winces at H'kon's words, looking apologetic. "Um... sh-she likes to come w-watch the h-herds," he explains quietly, stroking his fingers over the closest of his lifemate's wings. "She knows she c-can't, um, t-try anything... Hraedhyth's orders. I-is it alright with you, s-sir, if she watches?"
To H'kon, Arekoth projects, « More than alright! » His voice is booming, broad. « She might even learn a thing or two. »
H'kon does not look panicked, at least, when he looks to Cailluneth, then follows her gaze to Arekoth, and then lets it fall - heavy - back onto N'ky. "And there were a great many things he liked in his youth that were not right for him." It's a warning, hard and serious, though (for now at least) the brownrider does not elaborate. "It is not," answers the next question, flatly. "Arekoth is not to be near your dragon. But he must eat." That he must; Arekoth's path has swooped to speed the herd. Wings sweep back, the brown gives a shriek, and his strike sends a young buck rolling to the ground. Dragon and sprawling beast land nearly as one, a talon pinning it, hooked muzzle ripping a good chunk of throat.
The copper tang of blood fills N'ky's mouth, sticky-hot in the back of his throat, cloying and sweet and victorious - to Cailluneth, at any rate. The joy of the kill, of Arekoth's kill, floods through him as much as through her; golden pride, yellow jealousy, violet admiration, woven together like so many delicate threads to create the fibre of their shared thought. (Cailluneth to N'ky)
N'ky looks far more disturbed by the death of the herdbeast than Cailluneth, who bugles her pleasure and spreads her wings wide behind both N'ky and H'kon. The weyrling goes pale, hand coming up to cover his mouth, eyes closed as he shoulders jerk - almost as if he's about to be sick. Cailluneth nudges at him comfortingly, but only briefly; she's soon looking back out into the pens to watch. It takes N'ky a moment to recover; he turns his head, spits, rubs a hand across his mouth then blinks his wet eyes, before scrubbing over them, too. His face is pale, but his cheeks are flared red with embarrassment. "H-he's not too c-close, sir. I th-think it'll be fine," he says weakly, before turning his head to spit again.
To H'kon, Arekoth flexes a ribbon of cool yellow across the back of his rider's mind. « Smart boy. See? No harm in it. »
To Arekoth, H'kon does his best to ignore the aurora at the back of his senses. « The last we need is more like you. »
The greenling's face is what sends a glance Arekoth's way, but H'kon simply gives a grim nod. This is a thing to which he is accustomed. Even as Arekoth looks back, with a bit of red and dripping flesh hanging from his beaked mouth. That bit is tossed, swallowed, and Cailluneth is given a look that can only be described as bloody glamorous. His own wings come out and curve down, mantling now, the kill partway hidden from green and her rider alike as he continues his feeding. "Well that is not your decision to make. When you do not yet fully know your dragon, they can sometimes do the unexpected." A point to Arekoth's forelimb, though it's not rightly easy to see, half-shielded by his wing. "You see that leg? That was a loss of control."
To N'ky, Cailluneth projects a glorified image of Arekoth, proud and fierce, a fresh wash of blood filling her thoughts and flooding her weyrling's mouth, as she shares anew how it must feel to enjoy a meal as much as the brown is doing.
"Sh-she's not..." N'ky gags again, huffing out a frustrated breath and looking the other way as he takes a few deep breaths, regaining control over the impulse to be sick. "Cailluneth stop." The little green stiffens, tucks her wings tight to her sides, then drops away from the fence and onto all fours to press tight to her rider-to-be's side. Her head rubs apologetically against his chest, and he reaches out to stroke her headknobs, reassuringly. That Arekoth is hiding his kill doesn't go unnoticed. "It's n-not him," he says softly, looking over to the brown. "Sh-she... she makes me t-taste blood. Like it's f-filling my m-mouth and throat, and it..." It's unpleasant, is exactly what his pallid expression says. "She w-won't cause t-trouble, sir." There's certainty in his tone, and he tries to steel his expression to match. "How d-did he h-hurt himself, sir?"
To N'ky, Cailluneth's colours fade; blood fades, moonlight returns, the throbbing of a heartbeat and the pink-golden colour of her love flecked with silver-blue apology.
H'kon turns to watch the little green's retreat, and shifts just a little bit, an attempt to get himself more between Arekoth and the weyrling pair - for all the fence quite limits the possibility of much manoeuvring. "Hm," acknowledges the sharing of blood. Once again, H'kon doesn't elaborate. He turns to Arekoth, his expression nearly as hawklike as the brown's a moment. N'ky's question seems almost to catch the older rider off-guard, eyebrows twitching up, eyes re-focusing. "He flew before he was able to land. And I could not stop him." Everything pulls down, and he wrings at those gloves. "Weyrling," has very much the sound of a re-take, "it is not a matter of what may happen. You are in a Weyr, your superiors and mine have given specific instructions."
N'ky looks from Arekoth's scar to Cailluneth, biting down on his lip. "I w-won't allow her to g-get hurt. A-and, sir, I th-think the instructions were f-for, um, our dragons to avoid Arekoth... n-not for us to avoid you. When he green leans further against him, the weyrling rests both hands against her hide, stroking along her 'ridges. "Sir. If you w-want us to go, we'll leave wh-while Arekoth eats, but, um, I d-don't think this is breaking any rules."
"And mine," H'kon states with a melancholy seriousness, "were to keep him well away." There's another sharp look to the brown, who has finished the innards (while they were still hot) and is tearing at leg muscle. One wing pulls away long enough that he can look fully back to H'kon, and if there's a glance to little Cailluneth as well... innocent as it may seem, H'kon certainly stiffens. "A fence provides little barrier to a creature of the air. We will take our leave when he is finished this one." That melancholy has stuck.
To Arekoth, H'kon tries to force ice and steel into his voice. « And you will finish this one promptly, and you will leave. »
"Y-yes, sir." Both N'ky and Cailluneth look over to the brown, one with a carefully neutral expression, the other with eyes whirling bright and eager. After a moment of silence, the weyrling clears his throat, looking at the older rider. "S-sir?" A beat. "Um... d-does he share h-how it tastes? With you? C-can you... t-taste it, when he's eating?" The little green presses her muzzle between the slats of the fence, then raises up on her haunches again to look over, all the better to watch. N'ky rests his hand on her shoulder, scritching idly as he waits for his answer.
Melancholy has turned to something more stern, and for all it might have been directed at the brown, H'kon's eyes having drifted that direction once more, that doesn't mean it can't be turned with full force upon the weyrling. Turned, and held there. At length, the gloves untwist. The relenting is only in his voice, though. "Arekoth has never been one for images or sensations. Sometimes texture or warmth, if he'd been very hungry, but largely, no. It was no more a share than shared vision or thought. He is not overt."
"Oh." N'ky scratches at the side of his nose, looking... disappointed, perhaps? "H-how do you know what he's thinking, i-if he doesn't share so much?" He's curious, perhaps a little jealous, even, as he looks at the brownrider. "Cailluneth is a-always there. She shares e-everything, and w-wants to know everything I do. We, um, d-don't like to be apart." Which could why, during their whole time by the fence, there hasn't been more than a few seconds where there's been no contact between the two of them.
"He does share," H'kon specifies, voice sounding for all the world like he's reading his words from a textbook, rather than speaking about the lifemate to whom he's been linked for over ten turns. "He speaks in words. Seemingly without end. Younger, he shared more of what he saw as well. And there are times he is quiet." There's a little exhalation through his nose, and he shifts his grip on his gloves. "Dragons are quite varied, in my experience."
To H'kon, Arekoth projects, « Oh hush. »
"I only know th-those in my group, but, um, they are in m-my experience, too. There's s-so many of us, and e-every dragon is so different." N'ky smiles fondly at his lifemate, reaching for her headknobs to rub the base of them. "Cai doesn't use words, n-not really. She... she shows me things, but without, um, actually showing them. It's more... a suggestion? And I c-can figure it out, from there, because I, um, know what she's t-trying to say. I d-don't know if that's normal... if there even isa n-normal."
H'kon takes all said under consideration, and even thinks about it. Though still so in-between as he can manage to be, for his dragon and the weyrling, he is at least now willing to turn a little more easily. But it's to Arekoth he turns, and he has to look over his shoulder to address N'ky. "A rider and his dragon are two individual minds. I should imagine whatever means they find to communicate is the norm for them." But it brings a creased frown, which he turns back to the brown. Who had started looking to the heard again, but all at once looks back to H'kon.
To Arekoth, H'kon projects, « No more. »
To H'kon, Arekoth keeps the chill, but loses the colour. « You were there. It was a long set. And I'm hungry still. Besides, » his tone growing rounder, « It's not doing her any harm to see a real hunter in action. »
To N'ky, Cailluneth projects a silvery bubble, drawing the two of them together; melding minds. How can they be individual, when they share thoughts? « We are one, » she confirms in her husky contralto. « One thought. One heart. One life. »
To Cailluneth, N'ky agrees. « One. »
N'ky shakes his head. "Sir...I-I, um... I disagree, sir." And his cheeks flush brightly for speaking up, teeth digging into his bottom lip. "Um... I c-can only speak for me and Cailluneth, but, um, w-we're more like one m-mind. N-not individual ones. M-maybe two in one, but we're t-together. N-not individual." He shakes his head, leaning gently against his lifemate, his elbow resting on the fence to take some of his weight. Cailluneth croons towards Arekoth, stopping abruptly when N'ky places the flat of his palm against her.
To Cailluneth, N'ky projects, « No, my heart. No encouragement. H'kon is uneasy as it is. »
To Arekoth, H'kon projects, « But that you would willingly disobey your queens. »
To H'kon, Arekoth projects, « And you heard the boy. There's no rules broken here. What, will you have me not eat? Monster. »
To Arekoth, H'kon can feel his jaw tensing, teeth wanting to grind. « I would have you not fight me in this. »
To H'kon, Arekoth projects, « Little ones need role models. How else will they grow? »
To Arekoth, H'kon projects, « Yes. Good ones. »
« Just one more. » A glow of red. « There's a fat one over there. » (Arekoth to H'kon)
To Arekoth, H'kon can feel the sick coming in his gut, from the argument, from everything. « Take what you will. You well know I would be pleased for a reason to be sent from this Weyr. »
H'kon sends an arching eyebrow back over his shoulder to the greenlings. Arekoth seems ready to take to the air again but for a flick of fingers, and a fade of expression, that halts him in his place. That sharp head lowers to inspect the remains of his only kill of the day, seemingly - but his eyes are still on his rider. "Then perhaps yours is a mind with little need for words," the older rider corrects. And then promptly sets to ignoring the little tagalongs, staring back at his dragon, until, after a few moments and at long last, the brown takes to the air, looking for altitude rather than a hunting vantage point.
« Liar. » (Arekoth to H'kon)
Cailluneth looks wistfully up at Arekoth as he leaves, chuffing a bark-snort after him. She stays with her paws on the fence for a few moments longer, watching the herdbeasts and looking over what's leftof the brown's meal, before she drops back down and sits, canine-like, beside N'ky. She's all eyes for him then, curling her tail around his ankles until he's as close beside her as can be. "There's n-no need for words, sir, no." The teenager shakes his head, stroking fingers lovingly over his dragon's slender muzzle, back over her eyeridges and headknobs. "She has a c-colour for everything."
H'kon watches his dragon go, managing to look almost angry at one point. It's once Arekoth is well up into the air (circling rather than settling somewhere, but still well in the air) that he looks back to the young pair, turning, even, to face them. "Each pair is unique," he finishes, again in that textbook tone.
N'ky nods, looking at H'kon for a moment, studying his face, before dropping his gaze down to his dragon. "Y-yes, sir," he agrees. Silence follows, during which he looks upwards to look for Arekoth, Cailluneth following his gaze before the pair of them look towards the herd in the pens, almost completely in sync with one another. "Um..." N'ky clears his throat, frowning briefly before looking back to the brownrider. "I-if Arekoth would like t-to eat more, I'll t-take Cailluneth away, sir."
"He has taken the edge from his hunger." It's a bit harsh, but honest at least. And if the brownrider takes a moment to look uncomfortable, it's only so long as that, before he's found that Face at which he's so practiced. "He can finish when there are no weyrlings present. And if he should burn through his one beast in flight, then that is to him." A barb on the end of that, though it is most likely not truly meant for N'ky. "If," is a bit gentler, a hint grudging, "there is anything more you would ask of me first..."
Not wanting to pass up on the opportunity to ask a question, N'ky comes out with one almost without thinking - "Wh-why did Arekoth feed Kazavoth a wh-wherry, sir? D-didn't he know Kaz was too s-small?" Cailluneth hrumphs glumly, tilting her head to look up at H'kon with one blue-whirling eye. "He must have known he w-would get in trouble, r-right, sir?" The green makes a rasping coo sort of sound, bumping her head against N'ky. "Cailluneth w-was - is jealous."
To N'ky, Cailluneth weaves sulphurous yellow, the bitter comparison of tunnelsnakes to wherry, with the glorious kill of her clutchbrother. Envy, jealousy, pride and admiration for Kazavoth - a swirling vision with a question rising in wordless grey smoke: perhaps me, next time?
To Cailluneth, N'ky projects, « When you're big enough, Cailluneth - you'll hurt yourself before then. »
To N'ky, Cailluneth knows she's too small, just as she knows how glorious it will be to hunt. One day!
This was not the sort of question H'kon was aiming at. It turns Face into Frown. He twists those gloves of his between both hands once more. "Arekoth," and there's a growl on the 'r', "brought a wherry because Kazavoth asked him. And Arekoth," still that bit of growl, "was certain he could protect his offspring if required. He felt it was only natural." The twist goes tighter, though H'kon manages to flatten his tone. "He cares little for trouble or order. He does not think, nor does he see clearly." He seems done, even starts to shift his feet, before interrupting his own standing down with a rephrasing. "Arekoth brought Kazavoth a wherry because I was not paying the attention required to keep a dragon such as mine under control."
"P-perhaps if Cailluneth had been his, he m-might've brought her one, too?" N'ky isn't really getting the point; perhaps it's his dragon's desire speaking, rather than purely him. "I t-took her into the lower caverns, to hunt t-tunnelsnakes. Just to try and, um, s-slake some of her... her need. She wants to hunt. She's wanted to hunt s-since she was... well h-hardly as high as a h-herdbeast's knee. Hraedhyth c-caught us. We got in t-trouble."
That manages to rouse the brownrider from his more inward thoughts. He glances up, where his dragon is still circling, high above the rim where he's found a nice thermal to ride, broad wings cutting a distinct silhouette, and reassured, focuses in on N'ky. That pull at the edges of his eyes might even be sympathetic. "There is more you must think of than her needs. The both of you are a part of something greater. A dragon in the caverns is a danger to herself and others." One of his hands releases the gloves, and he rubs it over the bottom of his face. "You should not be seeking this out. Kazavoth is lucky in that he only attained a minor injury. You may deem yourselves one mind, but you, N'ky," see, he does know his name, "must still be the reason. There are few dragons blessed with it." Sighing, his shoulders falling almost naturally, "Any cold or overly wet day, that leg still bothers him. His landings are still awkward."
N'ky listens, biting down on his lip throughout H'kon's speech. "Sh-she wouldn't cause anyone danger," he says with certainty, drawing Cailluneth's head to him and holding her, gently, against his chest. "She was s-small, and easy to sneak in, and sh-she did the Weyr a f-favour by killing tunnelsnakes. And n-no-one got hurt. I w-wouldn't let her hurt anyone, a-any more than I would let her get hurt." He pauses, drawing a breath that he exhales in a quick, sharp burst. "I decided to t-take her in there. Sh-she needed something, and I f-found the best solution for b-both of us. I w-wouldn't let her do anything dangerous."
Heat rises, a shimmering mirage against the moon's cool light, rippled with the promise of fire to come. Certainty shows steadfast blue against the growing flames. « I would hurt no-one. » (Cailluneth to N'ky)
To Cailluneth, N'ky soothes. « I know, my heart, but he does not. »
"Perhaps not knowingly. Arekoth would not knowingly harm his offspring, and yet Kazavoth bled from his neck." There's a sharpness in his tone, now, even a raising of his voice, if certainly nowhere near a shout. H'kon has gotten the edge of a fiercer look to him, words coming faster. "But if she'd got into a corner and panicked? Wings are delicate. If she'd come upon a dog on the same mission as hers, and the animal had reacted in fight? If there had been a weyrbrat. There are things that cannot be anticipated, and young dragons are difficult to predict, and very much still learning their bodies as they grow. They can be clumsy. And accidents and strange things can happen." That glare is held even once words die off. Softer, comes, "You would do well to learn from the mistakes of others, rather than have one of your own that will follow you all her life. The rules are there for a purpose."
Flames leap in yellow-orange-red, growing in both heat and ferocity to overwhelm moon's calm, boxing the blue of reason; red comes to the forefront, fire licking with eager anger. Pearl-pale talons flex, jaws snap, muscles clench in the desire to reach out and hit the one who does not know. A rainbow bubble rises around her and her heart, mental hackles raised high in defence. (Cailluneth to N'ky)
"And we f-follow them, and she's not h-hurt, and I w-wouldn't let her g-get hurt." N'ky's flusteredness shows in Cailluneth, the little green's eyes whirling with fiery shades. She snaps her wings sharply against her back, pressing closer to N'ky, who in turn holds onto her more tightly. "I-if she c-couldn't have d-done it I w-wouldn't have taken her, but she was fine. She is fine. She's n-not Arekoth and sh-she's not going to d-do something stupid." Suddenly his expression shifts, from anger to surprise, to regretful embarrassment. Shaking his head in frantic apology, he stutters, "I-I'm s-sorry, sir, I d-didn't m-mean to-- I mean he's n-not-- I d-didn't mean to s-say he's s-stupid, sir."
H'kon looks squarely at the weyrling. N'ky's apology does little to keep fire from his voice. "It was stupid. And you are sounding much like him. My dragon may have been injured, I may have failed in controlling him, but I at least did not bring it upon him." Cailluneth is given a longer look, red eyes and all. "She is fine this time. And the sooner you step away from this idea that harm will only befall her if you allow it, the better for the both of you. There are things beyond our control, and your love will not protect her from them, let alone your assessment of her abilities. You were a smith before impression, not a weyrlingmaster. If you care for her, accept your reality as much as hers."
Searing cayenne crackles and burns, firework flashes bright with luminescent rage. No words, as is typical of Cailluneth, but an undeniable anger swirls around the silver of her moon and the thudding heartbeat of her N'ky, their rainbow bubble broken, fragments warped and melting beneath the heat of her ire. A primal need to protect; frustration; the want to rend through flesh with tooth and claw, flashed through bitterly dark imagery. (Cailluneth to Rasavyth)
N'ky's fingers curl tight around his dragon's headknobs; not tight enough to hurt, of course, but a hold to echo the deep furrow of his frown, the heaviness of his brows over his dark eyes. The stuttering apology is gone. "Th-there will be no n-next time," he snaps, while Cailluneth growls lowly. "Cailluneth will n-not hurt herself while I am w-with her, n-not if I can h-help it. Sh-she knows what she's c-capable of. We will not extend b-beyond that." N'ky's jaw is set strongly, though even in his agitated state he doesn't seem entirely certain of himself. "And," he adds, tilting his chin upwards proudly, "I-I was a f-farrier. N-not a Smith."
"She surely knows so well as Arekoth did," H'kon intones flatly. "See it is your weyrlingmasters you mind, and not your dragon, so far as assessment of what she should or should not do." Now green eyes seek out that silhouette in the air, closer than he was the last time. H'kon grimaces. "You are dismissed. I am due to meet with my wing soon, and my dragon must eat his fill. And not in the presence of yours." That hardness is still in his voice when he offers the parting advice of, "You would do well to think this over when she is asleep, and you are not."
Cailluneth's mind is met by a reflection of pastel blues, greens, and lavender - shades gleaned from her mind in earlier encounters. « Cailluneth? » The tenor is curious, and shimmers blink questioningly. « Are you alright? » His tone is serene, unruffled. (Rasavyth to Cailluneth)
To N'ky, Cailluneth projects the heated need to leave. Now.
"W-with r-respect, sir," N'ky says stiffly, trying hard to keep his tone even, "I know m-more what my d-dragon can do than you do." Cailluneth's on her feet, butting her head against her weyrling's stomach with her tail lashing behind her. "And she is n-not Arekoth. I hope he enjoys his meal." The teenager gives in then to the insistence of his dragon, taking a step back from her before turning around and flatfooting his way back towards the barracks.
To Rasavyth, Cailluneth scorches with emberglow orange, cutting through those pastels and melting them, one by one, into a pale puddle that ripples with frustration. A silvery howl echoes throughout her thoughts, and then blackness. Not the black of her night sky, nor the velvet warm that comes with it - a solid wall of darkness, erected around herself and her bond.
"And you are using this knowledge of yours to make your own interpretations of the rules laid down for you. And I need not know either of you to know that can be dangerous, both early on and later in your lives." H'kon waits until the green pair have put some distance between them and the grounds before looking up. Arekoth has been approaching, but it's only once H'kon relaxes some that Arekoth drops down. If with full attitude and, no doubt, a whole lot of words.
To Cailluneth, Rasavyth's mind allows the colors to be stripped away and destroyed. They're just a mask. What concern is it of his if she doesn't like it? New colors take their place, darker this time, with hues showing behind each one. Now it is layers upon layers. « What is it that angers you? » He questions, clinical in his tone, patient in his manner. « Anger only helps if you use it to do something about what it is that angers you. » Helpful, see?
To Rasavyth, Cailluneth shares feathered brown for Arekoth, black for his rider; golden-pink for herself and N'ky. Deep, lusty blood red curls around the teen and the man, drawing them close until it envelops them, surrounding her weyrling, before being stripped back... and back. And back. In it's place? Her more typical moonlight appears, gradually fading all other colours - save for an apologetic flutter of powder blue.
To Cailluneth, Rasavyth seems to feel that no apology is needed for the powder blue is covered over with shimmering ooze and forced to nothingness. His mind is serene, colors turning soothing, etched by moonlight and the shadows of trees in the night forest. He even pulls an element of their lullabies from Hrae, soft drums beating in the background, the soothing, sleepy kind.
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