The Veil
First of Vhalar, Arc 719
First of Vhalar, Arc 719
The first of seasons always held special significance to Llyr. So it had been for as long as he’d tracked trials, a luxury of keeping time through use of pebbles, or scratches in pages, or connection to civilization. Cities were the best for it, he found. Other people kept close track of the continual turn of the trials, even when there wasn't light in the Cylus breaks. Vhalar was no different than the other seasons for him, even though this arc had been more tumultuous than most other arcs in his short life. His twentieth arc approached, though he still had all of Vhalar and most of Zi'da before it would arrive. He instinctively wondered if - like the others - something might occur on the first trial of this season.
Thus, it came as little surprise while he journeyed the Veil, on a meditative walk through his own perceptions, that he caught sight of someone else. Another dreamwalker… or a creature of the Emean realm. He hoped it wasn’t the latter. He descended the spiral staircase of rusted metal, but slowed his steps when he saw the walker appeared to be a child.
A child in the Veil? Alone? Llyr hesitated. He’d never seen a dreamwalker so young. It had to be an illusion of some sort. His gossamer wings unfolded. In a flitted motion, he crossed to a higher vantage point. The child looked up at him with a calm expression. He’d already been noticed. The distance didn’t make him feel any safer, though nothing changed. No hideous deformation of a beast come to devour him and his sparks. The walker remained just a young boy, staring at him… in the Veil.
“Hello,” called Llyr, though he didn’t expect much of a response. Even if he got one, he didn’t know if he could trust it.
“Hello,” responded the boy. It wasn’t the best answer, and could have been a mere mimicry.
Llyr’s wings folded neatly along his backside. He smoothed the front of his tunic, then said, “Are you… lost?”
The boy shook his head ‘no’. It didn’t seem like a trap. If anything, the boy should have said yes. Should have attempted to gain pity and concern from him. To use the vunerability of isolated youth as an advantage. Incredibly familiar with such tactics, Llyr saw none of it in this stranger. He felt a bit more assured, so he stepped off the stair and drifted down with his wings spread out to soften the landing of his feet against the glittered crystalline floor of the Veil.
“What do you see?” asked Llyr. He gestured at the Veil around them.
The boy looked around and said, “What I always see.”
Llyr’s dark brows furrowed in a contemplative frown. He crossed his arms and said, “What’s your name?”
“Wren,” answered the boy as simply as the question had been asked. He seemed disinterested with the biqaj’s uncertainty. He didn’t resemble most children that Llyr knew around such young ages. He didn’t fidget nor look to dart away or shyly hide behind something or brashly try to seem stronger than he was… he just stood there, existing calmly with a look of… was it patience in his eyes? It couldn’t be wisdom. The boy was so young…
…unless he wasn’t a boy at all. While Llyr gathered that he was likely a dreamwalker rather than some predatory creature, he remained wary. But he could only display so much paranoia. For here was, by all shallow appearances, a child alone. There were few other things that kept Llyr in a state of obligation like a lonely child.
Especially after his recent failures, or what he considered his failures, in regard to the blood-related babe he had known as his son; and the boy he’d prepared to adopt as his own though they shared no blood; and the orphaned girl he had adopted only for her to perish to plague; the pair of orphan boys who he’d tried to guide but who had ran away during the chaos of the thuggish ambush in Westguard; and the slave girl he’d bought in the hopes to spare her a life of torment at the hands of masters crueler than him, but he didn’t know how to act with her or treat her anymore. The latter awaited him, in the waking world, loyal to a fault and depressed still over the death of his adopted daughter, Hazel.
All of that, he felt simmer under his consciousness, while he stared back at the unusual boy.
“What are you doing in the Veil, Wren?” he asked calmly.
The boy said, “Waiting for you.”
Llyr couldn’t help but laugh quietly. He paused, then replied after a trill of silence, “Honestly?”
Wren nodded.
“Do you… Do we know each other?” asked Llyr, uncertain of what else he was supposed to say about this sort of claim.
“No, what's your name?”
“My, oh… I…” Llyr scratched at his temple, then shrugged and said, “Magpie.”
“No, your name.”
“What… Is Wren your actual name?”
The blond boy stared at him, quiet for a bit, then said, “Magpie, we should go.”
Wren walked along the Veil, and Llyr followed close behind him. It was beyond unusual to follow the lead of someone so young, yet it seemed right when it came to Wren. Besides, he’d encountered far greater oddities in his journeys through the hundreds of dreamscapes in Emea. What was one more? As long as Wren didn’t attempt to kill him, he was happy to follow - and help, if such assistance would be needed.
“You don’t seem confused about where you are, have you been a walker long?” asked Llyr. No response, either in voice or gesture returned to him. He waited for several steps, then tried a different question, “Where are we going?”
“To someone.” Wren glanced up at the biqaj and added, “Otherwise she might search for me and find danger.”
“She?” Llyr sighed. “Your mother? Sister?”
“No. There,” The boy looked ahead of them, then pointed at a tall structure of crystal and a wireframe of metal. It wasn't far from the shape and make of his own door whenever he summoned it before him to enter his own dreamscape. Though this one didn't resemble a cage and the metal wasn't rusted over in jagged edges.
Llyr placed a hand on the top of the child’s blond head. He kept him from walking any closer to the structure. The biqaj couldn’t remember seeing it before now. He didn’t know what it was, but while he surveyed the shapes and light that glowed from within the crystals, he felt a wary but magnetic pull. “Yes, there. But you need to tell me more about what is going on. You’re physical, aren’t you?”
“You’re not?” inquired Wren, almost innocent from the tone of his voice.
“I am, but… fine. We’ll go on ahead but hold my hand so we don’t get lost, in case there’s something during the passage through that would aim to separate us.” Llyr lowered his hand, held the scarred palm out, and Wren took hold of it. He noticed a small locket hung on a chain around the boy’s neck. The biqaj knelt to be closer to the boy’s line of sight. He lifted the locket to examine it.
Wren let go of his hand. The boy took hold of the locket and quickly stepped away. He frowned and said, “That's mine.”
“I only wanted to look at it.” Llyr gestured for the boy to return so he could. “I’m not going to take it from you.”
Reluctantly, Wren returned. Llyr examined the locket, then opened it to see a small portrait of what looked to be a fairly handsome man. Human from the look of it. Not blond. Nor a female. They didn't look related to the boy. Llyr closed the locket, then stood and asked, “Who is that?”
Wren kept his gaze locked on the ground.
“Wren? ...Boy? Who is that in your locket? Is that your guardian?” He sighed as he didn’t get an answer one way or the other. Llyr looked over to the structure, which had brightened with a haze of what felt like warm sunlight as the rays drifted over them. “Okay, we’ll go through and seek out whoever this woman is to you. But then you’ll need to answer my questions if you intend to do anything other than return to your rightful guardian. Do you understand me, Wren?”
The boy shrugged. It was the first blatantly childish behavior he’d displayed since they first met. Llyr felt almost comforted by the display. He exhaled lowly, then offered his hand again. Wren took hold, and they walked toward the edifice, then stepped through the crystal itself as if it were nothing more than air. The Veil shimmered around them, and it took a fleeting step through the Untold until they entered a sanctuary.
Thus, it came as little surprise while he journeyed the Veil, on a meditative walk through his own perceptions, that he caught sight of someone else. Another dreamwalker… or a creature of the Emean realm. He hoped it wasn’t the latter. He descended the spiral staircase of rusted metal, but slowed his steps when he saw the walker appeared to be a child.
A child in the Veil? Alone? Llyr hesitated. He’d never seen a dreamwalker so young. It had to be an illusion of some sort. His gossamer wings unfolded. In a flitted motion, he crossed to a higher vantage point. The child looked up at him with a calm expression. He’d already been noticed. The distance didn’t make him feel any safer, though nothing changed. No hideous deformation of a beast come to devour him and his sparks. The walker remained just a young boy, staring at him… in the Veil.
“Hello,” called Llyr, though he didn’t expect much of a response. Even if he got one, he didn’t know if he could trust it.
“Hello,” responded the boy. It wasn’t the best answer, and could have been a mere mimicry.
Llyr’s wings folded neatly along his backside. He smoothed the front of his tunic, then said, “Are you… lost?”
The boy shook his head ‘no’. It didn’t seem like a trap. If anything, the boy should have said yes. Should have attempted to gain pity and concern from him. To use the vunerability of isolated youth as an advantage. Incredibly familiar with such tactics, Llyr saw none of it in this stranger. He felt a bit more assured, so he stepped off the stair and drifted down with his wings spread out to soften the landing of his feet against the glittered crystalline floor of the Veil.
“What do you see?” asked Llyr. He gestured at the Veil around them.
The boy looked around and said, “What I always see.”
Llyr’s dark brows furrowed in a contemplative frown. He crossed his arms and said, “What’s your name?”
“Wren,” answered the boy as simply as the question had been asked. He seemed disinterested with the biqaj’s uncertainty. He didn’t resemble most children that Llyr knew around such young ages. He didn’t fidget nor look to dart away or shyly hide behind something or brashly try to seem stronger than he was… he just stood there, existing calmly with a look of… was it patience in his eyes? It couldn’t be wisdom. The boy was so young…
…unless he wasn’t a boy at all. While Llyr gathered that he was likely a dreamwalker rather than some predatory creature, he remained wary. But he could only display so much paranoia. For here was, by all shallow appearances, a child alone. There were few other things that kept Llyr in a state of obligation like a lonely child.
Especially after his recent failures, or what he considered his failures, in regard to the blood-related babe he had known as his son; and the boy he’d prepared to adopt as his own though they shared no blood; and the orphaned girl he had adopted only for her to perish to plague; the pair of orphan boys who he’d tried to guide but who had ran away during the chaos of the thuggish ambush in Westguard; and the slave girl he’d bought in the hopes to spare her a life of torment at the hands of masters crueler than him, but he didn’t know how to act with her or treat her anymore. The latter awaited him, in the waking world, loyal to a fault and depressed still over the death of his adopted daughter, Hazel.
All of that, he felt simmer under his consciousness, while he stared back at the unusual boy.
“What are you doing in the Veil, Wren?” he asked calmly.
The boy said, “Waiting for you.”
Llyr couldn’t help but laugh quietly. He paused, then replied after a trill of silence, “Honestly?”
Wren nodded.
“Do you… Do we know each other?” asked Llyr, uncertain of what else he was supposed to say about this sort of claim.
“No, what's your name?”
“My, oh… I…” Llyr scratched at his temple, then shrugged and said, “Magpie.”
“No, your name.”
“What… Is Wren your actual name?”
The blond boy stared at him, quiet for a bit, then said, “Magpie, we should go.”
Wren walked along the Veil, and Llyr followed close behind him. It was beyond unusual to follow the lead of someone so young, yet it seemed right when it came to Wren. Besides, he’d encountered far greater oddities in his journeys through the hundreds of dreamscapes in Emea. What was one more? As long as Wren didn’t attempt to kill him, he was happy to follow - and help, if such assistance would be needed.
“You don’t seem confused about where you are, have you been a walker long?” asked Llyr. No response, either in voice or gesture returned to him. He waited for several steps, then tried a different question, “Where are we going?”
“To someone.” Wren glanced up at the biqaj and added, “Otherwise she might search for me and find danger.”
“She?” Llyr sighed. “Your mother? Sister?”
Llyr placed a hand on the top of the child’s blond head. He kept him from walking any closer to the structure. The biqaj couldn’t remember seeing it before now. He didn’t know what it was, but while he surveyed the shapes and light that glowed from within the crystals, he felt a wary but magnetic pull. “Yes, there. But you need to tell me more about what is going on. You’re physical, aren’t you?”
“You’re not?” inquired Wren, almost innocent from the tone of his voice.
“I am, but… fine. We’ll go on ahead but hold my hand so we don’t get lost, in case there’s something during the passage through that would aim to separate us.” Llyr lowered his hand, held the scarred palm out, and Wren took hold of it. He noticed a small locket hung on a chain around the boy’s neck. The biqaj knelt to be closer to the boy’s line of sight. He lifted the locket to examine it.
Wren let go of his hand. The boy took hold of the locket and quickly stepped away. He frowned and said, “That's mine.”
“I only wanted to look at it.” Llyr gestured for the boy to return so he could. “I’m not going to take it from you.”
Reluctantly, Wren returned. Llyr examined the locket, then opened it to see a small portrait of what looked to be a fairly handsome man. Human from the look of it. Not blond. Nor a female. They didn't look related to the boy. Llyr closed the locket, then stood and asked, “Who is that?”
Wren kept his gaze locked on the ground.
“Wren? ...Boy? Who is that in your locket? Is that your guardian?” He sighed as he didn’t get an answer one way or the other. Llyr looked over to the structure, which had brightened with a haze of what felt like warm sunlight as the rays drifted over them. “Okay, we’ll go through and seek out whoever this woman is to you. But then you’ll need to answer my questions if you intend to do anything other than return to your rightful guardian. Do you understand me, Wren?”
The boy shrugged. It was the first blatantly childish behavior he’d displayed since they first met. Llyr felt almost comforted by the display. He exhaled lowly, then offered his hand again. Wren took hold, and they walked toward the edifice, then stepped through the crystal itself as if it were nothing more than air. The Veil shimmered around them, and it took a fleeting step through the Untold until they entered a sanctuary.
Off Topic
Hart's Player and Eliza's Player are both aware and have given the okay for Llyr and Wren to meet. This is the prelude to an arranged collab between Llyr and Eliza.
