• Closed • From the Glimmering Orrery

[Woe]

Viewing Seed-like Stars that haven't yet Bloomed.

Domestic and worldly concerns had consumed more of Woe's time of late. It'd gotten to a point where they chased him into sleep even, and merely engaged in the pedestrian chase of those who were familiar to him. It'd been too long since he stared into the great mysteries of the Untold, the chaotic everything that lay beyond the Veil. He almost forgot how to move through the Veil, it'd been so long. Perhaps all of the upheaval of late had changed the way the traversal worked. He knew for a fact that the translocation that was once possible was beyond anyone's reach. Travelling the Astsral space of the Untold required a link back to the body, lest his consciousness become lost in that soup of possibilities.

He almost wondered if this was what had become of Magpie. He looked at the curvature of the graven bronze that made up the inside of his Orrery, at the very heights of his own Dreamscape. This was where he staged his viewings of Emea, when he had a moment to do so, and nothing pressing demanding his dreaming attentions. He was tired, and business chasing him from waking, following into his sleep had worn on his sanity and sense of calm and peace. He needed this moment, at least, to himself.

So he took it, as he stood within the spherical Glimmering Orrery. He held his hand against the subtle engravings on the inner surface of the sphere's curvature. With a small exercise of will, he forced it not to give way, or melt into the Emean chaos that lay above and beyond. He only willed it to assume a clarity that would afford him a glimpse of the expanses outside of the Orrery.

He saw it, then, half formed from expectation and paradoxically the spaces forms and geometries that were as yet unimagined and unthought of. A wide expanse like a great city scape, reminiscent of Quacia perhaps of old, or the Eternal Empire. Places as grand as all that, yet far larger.

He saw them glimmering with lights, motes of brilliant glow that traced along the angular points of those geometric structures that stretched for eons beyond his position, within his own small dreamscape. He stared out, and allowed himself a moment of wistful remembrance, "What did you find, Magpie? Where have you gone?" He shrugged. He didn't pine for his old colleague, but sometimes curiosity was hard to shake. Had Magpie found a place out there? Or was he consumed by the turbulent chaos of its denizens, torn to thousands of pieces, waiting for his soul and psyche to be puzzled together again?

Woe stared out and then downward, willing the space between him and the Orrery's physical boundaries to melt into a vergeance through the Veil. He would step out, only for a moment. If only to taste the intoxicating ocean of emotion, sensations, and thought that Emea bombarded its travelers with.

[Kotton]

.

Kotton had been purposeful about his lucid travels in Emea. At least now that he had experienced enough to grasp a firmer hold of the concept. He was officially indoctrinated in the realm of the surreal, welcomed entirely by the dimension of conscious unconsciousness. Things were much less viscous in nature; more malleable were the objects that surrounded him, space including.

He had been attempting to metamorphose his ethereal essence, also known as an astral body, into whatever his mind could fathom. However, like the first few experiments a novice scientist tended to experience, there were challenges.

He couldn’t quite get the hang of it, so to speak. Squinting his eyes, propelling his concentration and utter motivation onto a spot in the near distance- it wasn’t exactly like when he used ether to conjure fallacious details of the abstract via magic. He had to incur additional patience. Fortunately, time was all he had. Dreams were strange that way. Hours could in fact only translate to milliseconds and what felt like minutes were a laborious hour or two in the waking world.

The power he had over his dedication was immaculate; he would not deign to absolve his wish to further his ability to walk lucidly amidst his dreams. So he tried again and again, hoping that time was more like the former in which he could spend all of eternity in his dreams whilst dedicating only a fraction of said time toward sentient reality.

The force of his inhales had grown; he had noticed the ability to pull more air into his lungs for longer. Holding his breath had proven substantially imperative when it came to bolstering his concentration. It might be a psychological boost, this process, but did it really matter if it helped him in the long run?

Kotton found it strange to close his eyes. He thought it over- weren’t his eyes technically already closed? Would having closed his eyes to dream only to close them again be an interdimensional headache? Oh, the notes he would take once he woke…

His eyes shut. He wiggled around, shaking his extremities of any tension. Then, his empyrean nature forth, capitalizing on the idea of a mushroom the size of himself.

Did he feel drained all of the sudden or was this also a psychological phenomena similar to experiencing a placebo effect? He stopped himself from his notorious shake of the head and opened his eyes instead.

This mushroom he had imagined was indeed positioned in the very spot he had willed it to be, bright red spots, thick stalk and billowy cap. He hadn’t quite done something like this before. He wasn’t sure what to do next. Walk toward it? Could he touch it? If only he had a piece of paper and pencil to capture this incredible mein. Alas, he could reign his attentiveness for the necessary time it took to envision a paper and pencil, so his sight and the memory it locked into his mind was all he had to go by.

“Sweet,” he mumbled, smiling like a child who had just received a birthday gift.

His moment of pride was ruefully cut short by a mysterious appearance in the horizon. There was a break in the atmosphere, a sliver in the lining of the firmament. Was he doing that? Not a chance, unless he had been miraculously blessed with some confounding skill he had yet to recognise.

“What the-” his voice trailed off as he witnessed a separation in the stars.

[Woe]

Dreamwalkers, even newly minted ones or those who had yet to grow in experience, had a certain glow to their Dreamscape that betrayed them to those who might seek them. It served a beacon, that drew other dreamers to them more oft than not. The brighter the stars below, the more likely it was occupied by one lucid individual or another. It was particularly curious when one appeared close enough from Woe's vantage point above the Veil, close enough to signal that this was occupying a place nearby. Perhaps in Egilrun, or Scalvoristown, or even Sweetsong. Was it Vega? Winston? No, he would recognize them. This was a new dreamwalker, if ever he saw one. Or at least one less practiced in the navigation of Dreams.

Immediately Woe was curious. Partly because he always strove to stay informed of those who could Dreamwalk in his vicinity. It was best to remain aware of those rare gifted individuals who were touched by Emea in that way. But then, there was also the possibility of mutual acquaintances, which prompted Woe to decide on his course here, as he looked through the Orrery's walls.

Breen

appeared beside him, his blue eyes blazing in sad curiosity for the dreamer below. "I feel them, Master."

"Shall we say hello? Drop in uninvited?" Woe asked Breen, turning his eyes toward the Diri of Sorrow.

"When are we ever invited?" Breen inquired, with some sadness.

"Good point."

Taking a deep breath, with let his arms splay out in a cross pose. Rather swiftly, the darkened garments coalesced around his astral form, turning him into a small raven, reminiscent of his other spirit companion, Egil. Woe, as the raven, flew through the small opening, closely followed behind by Breen as the dog spirit leapt through the opening after him. There, he glided down toward the bright spot beneath the Veil. Space opened up in a sccne, where a young man was standing, dumbstruck by the sudden rupturing of stars above.

The mortalborn glided from across the opening of the Veil, allowing it to close behind Breen, which it did with a subtle misting of the atmosphere, as the stars realigned, sealing off that entrance to Kotton's Dreamscape.

He landed as gently as he could from above, landing with lightness on Kotton's shoulder. His claws were soft enough, and didn't dig in or otherwise scratch the dreamer. Yet, as Kotton felt the bird's feet upon his shoulder, he'd suddenly understand, perhaps incredulously, that the bird was actually communicating through its touch. And he could understand it.

"Apologies for the intrusion. We couldn't help but notice you were there, Dreamwalking in our very own backyard. We thought we'd stop by and wish you well, neighbor." The raven communicated through its touch, and appeared quite articulate.

Breen approached cautiously from the front of Kotton, and did a bow, to show he meant no harm. His blue eyes regarded Kotton. And sent a silent message to Woe's' mind, He seems, sad.

Woe shook his neck feathers, unsure what to make of that. It was neither here nor there, or any of his business whether their host was feeling one way or another, unless he wanted to share. So the raven made a conscious effort not to pry.

Still, it wouldn't do for the man to panic at his sudden appearance, so as he communicated through touch, he effused Kotton with a sense of

fearless confidence

. "I'm glad to meet you." Woe spoke through his touch, again. "This is Breen, and I am Woe."

"I don't think we've been properly introduced, but first thing I must ask..." The mortalborn angled his beak, lining up his eye with Kotton's as he leaned forward. "Have you seen a Magpie hereabouts?"

Woe was mindful not to let too much information out, but if Mister Magpie had indeed met with Kotton already, he would be able to sense it. He was careful not to pry beyond that with his abiliity to tease out the feelings or thoughts of those he was in close contact with. Although he was certainly curious about their host, he didn't want to betray their uninvited hospitality too harshly.

[Kotton]

.

That which one did not know could not hurt them. There had been moments in Kotton’s life where he wished he did not know about certain things. The blissful kiss of ignorance only caressed his lips a time or two before, aside from the normalcy of maturation. He was wonderstruck for several moments’ time upon witnessing the sky’s splitting and subsequent re-fabrication. There was no way he had been the master behind such a performance, that much was certain. But the lack of knowledge as to the reason behind it gave the hairs on the back of his neck an astute response- they stood on end, enticing the goose-flesh to bubble all over his body. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what had just happened- it was beyond his usual conceptualisation, and the capability he had for unique idea manifestations was vast, much greater than the average person. On the other hand, his natural curiosity festered like an unquenchable thirst, dying to be relieved of its suffering. He needed to understand this most recent phenomena, particularly now that he observed a strange object sailing down toward him.

What was it exactly? A shadowy figure, a mass of darkness, something with noticeably extended appendages that resembled that of a… bird. Kotton’s first logical instinct was the retreat, reach up his arms in a protective manner so as not to be impaled by this unknown item, but a subtle sense of meddlesomeness garnered his attention with formidable character. He stood still, paralysed almost, as he saw the bird transcend gently upon his very shoulder.

The reflexive fear bestowed upon those who could relish the concept of self-preservation waned as Kotton turned his head ever so slowly to peer at the creature next to him. He always loved animals, he felt they deserved more respect that current society offered them. And having experienced this tranquil moment with one of them? In a dream? He hoped he could further his newly acquiesced power and manipulate this being into having a larger wingspan.

He drew his eyelids together until they were mere slits, focusing… focusing… allocating his effort and applying the comprehension of his celestial alignment toward the bird’s flanks. Kotton remained in this expression of sheer constipation for a very long time. Enough was enough. Perhaps he just wasn’t capable of this level of proficiency yet.

Just then, something bizarre happened. The young man had to remind himself for a second that he was walking through a dream and not simply down the street of his local town. The raven spoke. But not in so many words. It was almost like the letters bled into his shoulder and up to his brain. It felt similar to the vibration of a bee’s buzzing. It was gentle, sublime, and a little aphrodisiac if he was being honest.

Even the beast that announced itself at his anterior did little to faze him. Kotton made a mental comparison between this sensation and the feeling of being high. Was this himself doing this or was this the bird? But if it was the bird, then wouldn’t it be him if the bird was part of his dream-? Oh, yea, Kotton just had to stop thinking for a moment and allow his newfound companion the room to explain.

Interesting… very interesting. A Magpie. That was a bird, right? Or was it a name? Was it both, perhaps?

Kotton took a tentative step toward the beast which after some transient deliberation appeared more as a dog than some monster. The eyes the dog had- they were illustrious, as if they carried fables upon fables of adventures, exploits and misfortunes. Kotton continued to make for the dog until he stood directly beside it.

“No,” Kotton began, reaching for the dog with the intent of petting it. Where were his manners? Before he lay his hand against the dark fur of the canine, he rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. “I apologise. I have not seen this Magpie you’re referring to. Is it a bird? A person? A person who can also transform themselves into a bird?”

Kotton made a sideways glance at the raven clutched to the shirt on his shoulder and smiled. He graciously sat on the ground, just now noticing its lush, green texture.

“Are you a part of my dream, or are you a dreamwalker like me?”

Again with his rude imposition, he drew his hand up, his fingertips nearing the feathers of the creature that graced his shoulder with its presence. He managed a soft touch, daring himself to go further. He supplied the bird with emollient words. He hoped his voice was tranquil, conducive to his peaceful existence.

“I’m glad you entered my dream. Sometimes they can be so lonesome…” his voice trailed as his hand fell into his lap. Whoever or whatever this bird was, he palmed the idea of friendship.

[Woe]

It was of course reasonable for Kotton to infer that the bird and dog that had entered through the sky were not just another revelation of the Dreamscape, some subliminal scrap of a discarded memory or past dream coming to visit him in lucidity. As the man's eyes widened, as if in concentration at the Raven, the bird thought perhaps he was attempting to manipulate his Dreamscape. Such was a adequate and sometimes necessary measure to determine whether an intruder was part of their dream or a construct, or even another dreamer, come to invade their place. The raven bore his gaze with a tilt of his head, perhaps attempting the same on him, in case he'd suddenly acquired the ability to manipulate others' Dreamscapes.

In fact, he had already begun to stretch his influence into the Untold itself, it was entirely possible he could leave marks upon the Dreamscapes of others...

The raven didn't jostle or let Kotton's short walk toward Breen dislodge his perch on the man's shoulder. He merely ruffled his wings a bit, righting himself with every step they took. When Kotton dipped down to his knee, he did stretch his wings a fraction to maintain balance, but otherwise did not take flight.

"What is your name?" Woe asked, wondering who the Dreamer was. "Are you located in Scalvoristown? Or have you gone abroad?"

He looked at the surroundings, it certainly had the look of the town in Scalvoris, and Woe was well familiar with its streets by now. "Magpie may very well be a bird, and he can certainly change into one if he's of a mind to." The raven said carefully, through his physical contact to Kotton. He wasn't sure how much he should tell, but then Llyr had gone into such deep hiding, Woe even doubted that betraying more personal information of the man would cause him problems.

Perhaps Woe plied that betrayal of information recklessly, in hopes Llyr would materialize in anger someday, pent up frustration of having so much of his secrets shared with strangers. He supposed smoking him out was as useful a method to bring him out into the open as any.

"He has a certain magic to him, to change shapes. Not like Dreamwalkers can, but in the waking world too. I wondered if he'd gotten to you first, but it appears for once I'm early to the chase."

This said, he allowed Kotton's hand to palm at his wing, and with that touch felt more at liberty to search Kotton's impressions and feelings, to see if he was telling the truth about his lack of knowledge of Magpie. Had it been coincidence that he'd referenced the man's ability to change shape? Perhaps.

"But yes, I am a Dreamwalker. This is the form I've chosen to travel into your Dreamscape with. It's much easier to traverse the chaos of that realm on the wing. And less alarming to do so as a small bird, for those who I'm visiting."

Woe tilted his head again, and the words filtered in through his touch, "You are a Dreamwalker? That's interesting. Not many of us roam the realm of Dreams since the Crack in the Wall and the reordering of Emea. But I've always found it enlightening, and cathartic in a way. Even when I'm not lucid."

"Dreamscapes can be risky to share, with the wrong person. But I have a good feeling about you." Raven said, and then ran his beak over his right wing, cleaning. "And you must be careful not to let the wrong kind of person into them. The Dreamscape, especially while experienced in a lucid state, is a fragile and delicate thing, which is our own lens into the shared Mindscapes of all. To change any part of it, whether willfully or through a shift in consciousness, can do serious damage."

"Thankfully, most are not able to change the Dreamscape of another person directly, if they enter it, and you are often at an advantage in your own, should one invade. But still, there are more than just Dreamers out there..."

Speaking of which, the diri of Sorrow was lapping up and rolling over as Kotton heaped him with attention. Breen whined happily, as he absorbed small traces of sorrow from Kotton, as he made contact. The diri almost did so involuntarily, "He seems to like you." Woe told the man he was perched upon.

Indeed, Kotton may feel some of the lonliness and sorrow, if he'd been feeling any prior, to evaporate as he engaged with the dog.

"But then, you probably have a mentor who would've warned you about these dangers, perhaps."

[Kotton]

.

“Scalvoris, yes,” Kotton alluded, his mind elsewhere. He needed to collect his thoughts just as he needed to collate the trash from the various waste bins in his house. Why was his focus so frantic? Why did his thoughts delegate to the responsibilities of reality only to stutter to ones of the dream world? He experienced dreams as a wheel of escape, but so far the wheel wasn’t as circular as it was square. He seemed to keep reverting back to previous deliberations. Even shaking his head with the intention of depositing such irreverent ruminations resulted in nothing other than an unpleasant headache.

He was beginning to feel irritation. Toward this dream or toward himself, he didn’t know. Nevertheless he felt insignificant, inept at the decisions that manifested before him. His head roiled with ideas and conspiracies only to be shunned when alternative events enfolded themselves in place of his predictions. Still, it was a dream.

“Kotton,” he all but stuttered, feeling the ground for any comfort of structure. It wasn’t as if the world was turning on its axis, but the fluid in his ears oscillated with varying degrees, causing imbalance in his stride, subjecting him to the inability to tell top from bottom.

So Magpie could change shapes, but not like dreamwalkers could. Dreamwalkers could change shapes. Not just project their astral embodiment into the nearest space, but actually change themselves. This was news to Kotton and he would be silly to miss this vital piece of information.

The softness that caressed the walls of his mind ceased without warning. Kotton felt embarrassed, but his natural curiosity overpowered his introverte-ness. “Crack in the Wall?”

An acidic flavour reached the back of his tongue, having sprung from his stomach. It was nasty, but its very existence supplied a sense of abnormality necessitating investigation. Kotton bit his tongue with the myriad of questions that flooded his mind.

Fortunately, his attention was relocated to the physical representation of a beast impeding upon his imaginary bubble of comfort.

Magpie… a friend? A magician? Dreamwalker? Was Kotton so out of sync with the realm of reality that transcended the normalcy of conscious cognition? He prided himself on alternative thinking, out of the box problem solving and ingenious, albeit antipodal and antagonistic reflection. But that’s just how his metaphysical body perceived things. Dreamwalking was a salve to the wounds he ascertained during the waking world. Traipsing through the realm of Emea offered so many things that weren’t available to him when he was awake. It was almost like a mother offering food to a son who had gone without sustenance for months.

Kotton bit his lip not with irresolution but with resolve.

“I have no mentor,” he declared. “I haven’t needed a mentor. All my upbringing has been attributed to self exploration. Sometimes you have to delve into the nitty gritty head first before you can genuinely appreciate a specific concept. Consider me arrogant, but I am a ‘learn as you go’ individual.”

Kotton recoiled slightly, giving himself distance between the beast, but not the raven that resumed its perch upon his shoulder. His thoughts vanished from the present and instead nestled themselves in the past. But he didn’t want that. He wanted to live in the moment. He was speaking to a fucking bird after all and he had bared witness to a beast who seemed to understand much more than it appeared to. Still, he desired more control than what he was being given.

“Do you ever enter your dream world with hopes of creating a better life?” Kotton couldn’t believe the words that left his mouth. But he also couldn’t take them back. He had to own them. Distraction had only held control over him for so long before Kotton was able to take back his own infallible decree.

“No, did I say that already? No, I do not have a mentor.” Kotton stood from his previous sitting position and took several steps back from the beast who seemed to know more than it should.

“And I’m sorry I don’t know who Magpie is.”

[Woe]

"Kotton." The bird repeated into his shoulder. A name was a name, and Woe's was nothing special in itself. An epitaph more or less appended to a boy without a name, having grown up a slave. Many slaves had unusual names, or names that were also words. Kotton sounded like a proper name, though, one given by parents that loved their child. So Woe presumed, although he couldn't know for certain without prying.

And it became clear in the next few moments, that something was throwing the young man off balance. Breen, stand down, leave alone his sorrow. Thus commanded, the dog whined, and stopped drinking in the natural morosity of the young man. Woe likewise thought he might need to correct his own behavior, and speak plainly, or at the very least let the dreamer lead the conversation.

He flew off of his shoulder, and landed onto a nearby surface. There, he flapped his feathers once or twice before bobbing his head to Kotton. As he occupied the man's dreamscape, he thought perhaps it didn't matter if he had physical contact with his bodily form, that he could converse with him the same way.

He bowed his head at the last, as Kotton gave his rebuttal. No mentor. Then he came upon Dreamwalking himself? Woe had heard of such individuals, gifted thinkers who either by concentration or force of will could batter the walls of their dreamscape into such submission that they'd awaken without leaving the dream. It was rare that such an individual resulted in someone who could go a step further into Dreamwalking, but there they were.

"No mentor? No teacher who brought you into the world of Dreams?" Woe mused over that, "Many of us required a hand up to learn. You must be very gifted. But then, mentors come and leave, often before we've learned as much as we'd hoped. Soon enough, you have to learn on your own, anyway. Perhaps you have the right of it."

As he stood on the ground, he bowed his head in thought to the question asked of him. "My Dreamscape is quite unlike many I've visited. The eclectic gatherings of a disordered mind, you might say. But yes, sometimes I envision a future I'd like to see. Yet, one which requires no solutions or is perfect is hard to imagine. Especially for me."

Woe tilted his head, and wondered if Kotton did just that. "It would take quite the spotless and idealist mind to maintain the vision of such a life."

"I apologize for having intruded so rudely into your dream, however. I did not mean to impose, and it's somewhat clear to me that you're a touch irritated perhaps, or not enjoying our conversation." Woe sighed, "If you'd have me go, I will go. Or perhaps I can show you what I look like, so we might know each other if we meet."

Breen, almost on cue, got up and started trotting toward the raven's side. There it stood vigil next to him, stoic and resolute as it cast its glance sideways.

"Of course, I've read people wrong before." The raven offered, "If you'd have me stay, I'd be pleased to remain talking to you about anything you like. And no apologies, let's speak no more of Magpies and Magical Man-Birds."

[Kotton]

.

It didn’t matter if Kotton shut his eyes or kept them open, the visage projecting itself before him remained, hauntingly. It commanded correspondence, a visceral reaction, but Kotton was unable to supply anything other than a chortle. He was low on energy, subdued and thereby subjucated by a will siphoned between the realm of reality and subconscious. Kotton blithely threw back his shoulders, unwavering in the midst of incertitude.

He stood tall. “My intellect contains an ocean’s width of phenomenality. I tend to think of myself as gifted, sure, but I remind myself to maintain humility.”

Kotton bit his tongue with an effort surpassing the effort required of the strength of a bodybuilder readying himself for his next life. He wished to expunge a vast amount of knowledge, detail an incredible paperright of observation and declare a staggering depth of testimony all in the name of futuristic determination. But he was here, and he was there, and he felt he was in two different places at once. But he was here and there was still a bird speaking to him, although having flown from its original perch upon his shoulder.

Kotton couldn’t argue with desiring to dream a dream that required no clairvoyant aptitude. He was foreign to the concept of living in the moment, but the stress of the future- it incentivized nothing for him. Nevertheless, “The eclectic gatherings of a disordered mind”? Kotton could relate to that, for he was troubled with an innumerous degree of bonafide whims that destined pessimism unto his very own soul.

His mullings, no matter how profound, were eradicated at the very vestige of a conversational closure. “No,” he nearly shouted. “Please, I admiwe the company.” Why was it that his interpersonal connections seemed to want to vanish so suddenly? His entire life could be summarized as having had friends and then not. Kotton fought for breath. He struggled to regain some sense of composure before straightening his back and igniting his eyes with a bemused attraction to whatever else would come his way.

“I would like to see you as the weal you. I would like you to offew guidance of the dweam wowld if you would be so obliged. I wish nothing othew than company, fow you see, this existence can be fwequently lonesome.”

Kotton steadied his racing heart and dared to grow closer to the beast that had initially accompanied the raven. “What’s his name?” he asked. He had so many questions, but his mind would only allow him to vocalize one at a time.

Kotton’s anxiety was high- a beating pressure against his sternum. He didn’t want to be abandoned now that he had recognised and understood that there were others in this realm. He wanted to learn more. He wanted to be educated on the tales of the skills he had yet to acquire.

Why did the bird feel like their conversion had gone dry? Kotton was more than willing to spend an eternity palavering with it.

[Woe]

The crow tilted its head at Kotton’s assertion of humility. And while he wasn’t going to belabor the point, he couldn’t help but note that stating a broadly phenomenal mind was anything but humble. Still, Woe knew he was dealing with someone who if not posssessing an advanced understanding of the ways of the world, was still a great potential. Afterall, few could’ve boasted to have initiated themselves into Dreamwalking. Usually such an event necessitated a harder landing, or a knock upside the ethereal cranium.

“Yes, I’m burdened with much disorder. That doesn’t curtail my search for meaning or order, but the world has a way of scattering my efforts, and creating a disordered state.” Woe sighed. Then again, he was as oft a source of disorder himself in others. It was part and parcel of sharing the same world with others. What seemed right and orderly to one, might seem like a splash of chaos to another, and a disruption even.

Kotton asserted that he’d like for him to stay, but assume his true form. That was fair enough, he had barged in uninvited, and thus was obliged to show himself for who he was. He wasn’t sure if Kotton would recognize the Egg of Egilrun, even though he was well known throughout the island. Woe had planted seeds of doubt as to his activities in various sectors, and liked to keep a low profile when he could. Although he was well known throughout the world, it was entirely possible that there were some who had no idea who he was. Perhaps even in Scalvoris.

So the Crow combed his wing feathers, brushing them out with a jerk of its neck. The wings expanded, giving way to a shadowy, bat-like protrusions that were like dragonwings. Soon enough, his legs began extending, taking on the form of simple gray garments, polished brown bootts, and a cloak of blooded leather. Out of the back of his shoulders, those shadowy bat-like wings protruded, and there was the ever-so-subtle suggestion of horns rising from the back of his head.

A scar of some kind was on his left cheek, which was oddly enough obscured by what appeared a vaporous shadow. His hair was black, and his complexion pale.

His blue eyes looked toward Kotton then and nodded. “This is who I am. Though I do not always show my wings and horns, they are there in shadow.”

“I would like to teach you much more, if you would like to learn. But time grows short in this dream. Perhaps another night we may join together? I have things I must do in the Dreamscapes, and it would be good not to do them alone, perhaps with the benefit of your own fresh perspective? An adventure, if you would.”

Woe nodded gently, showing that he didn’t insist upon Kotton’s assistance if he wouldn’t want to involve himself in potentially dangerous adventures. “If not, I will still try to teach you what I can.”

The mortalborn turned toward the diri of Sorrow, that was his companion. “He is a spirit of sorrow, I found him in Ne’haer of all places, in the temple of Vri. His name is Breen.”

“Now, I’ll ask, if you would have me return to your dreamscape, if I may leave a mark here, for you to call upon me while asleep.” Woe turned his attention to a nearby vine that grew from the edifice of a boulder. He touched the vine, and one of the leaves seemed to glow green and gold, gleaming in the light. Woe concentrated, making that leaf a doorway to his own Dreamscape, if Kotton wished to either enter the mortalborn’s Dreamscape later, or call him through that trifle.

“Not a major change to your own dreamscape, but should you wish to find me, you will see that leaf, and it will give you a way to either call to me or enter my dreamscape, if I’m also dreaming.”

This said, Woe came forward to kneel before Breen, and extended a hand for Kotton to shake, if he would. “I should go now, but I suspect we’ll see each other soon, if only to continue your training in the Dreamscapes.”

!	Message from: Woe
	Heya, one more post from you, and we can both wake up here. I’d like to do more dreams with you if you’re interested. Can be part of the adventure I have planned or else just some light socialization and teaching. Totally up to you. Let me know.

[Kotton]

.

Kotton, too, was one of disorder and like Woe, was also in search of order. But his terms were more subjective. Justice and equality, they were. Finding order in the disorder among the unbalanced, one-sided and illegitimately lucrative. His need to find peace via order might have been parallel to the crows’ in some fashion. And meaning? Kotton shouldn’t be started when it came to meaning. His entire purpose in life was to seek meaning. Meaning for his existence, meaning for others’, meaning for performing trivial actions that had no right in being questioned with such intelligence. This bird was after his own heart in so few words.

The catch of the day, or of his attention, was the transformation from raven to human, or what he assumed to be human. The shift happened all too quickly and Kotton wished he could replay it over and over again. Magic had a soft spot reserved in his heart, and the beauty of it could never be taken for granted.

The man was gorgeous in his own way. Kotton’s pupils dilated with interest, his irises sparkling with joy. Dark, pale, perhaps disfigured in some way or another- none of that seemed to matter to someone who was well acquainted with every adjective aforementioned. Perhaps it was his strong jaw, his mesmerizing and brilliant blue eyes, or the subtle defect (a scar maybe?) that marred his otherwise pallid complexion. Kotton had to shake his head to rid himself of his marriage to hypnosis.

The foreign man’s proposal seemed too good to be true. Tutelage in the art of dreamwalking? The fact that he could alter his appearance to that of a crow was insane enough, but to have the opportunity to learn how to perform a similar trick? Kotton licked his lips with lust. Although, was it actually lust or merely a semblance of longing? Longing to further the expanse of his knowledge regarding something that was akin to comfort in a brain so intemperate to satiation?

Before Kotton knew what he was doing, he was nodding his head vigorously. Breen, as was the man’s companion, seemed to take note of his eagerness. A spirit of sorrow, a history undoubtedly plagued with remorse and pivotal information- it had seen a change of character- a crestfallen man uplifted by the promise of education.

Kotton bristled at the change of scenery, but quickly resigned himself with calm. The vine that manifested glowed with all the potential of a new chapter to an unending story. It was bright and beautiful and offered hope to a previously disconsolate young lad.

“Yes,” he whispered to no one in particular. He was certain no one could hear it other than himself, an echo in his head, but the hand that outstretched itself in front of him made him think otherwise.

“Yes,” he said again, but louder as he took the hand in his own and pumped his arm. This dream had to be one of the best ones yet.

“Thank you,” were the last words he said before being propelled back into warm sheets and down comforters.

!	Message from: Kotton
	Thank you for this experience! I hope I did well, what with still being very new to collaborating. I’m glad you want to do future threads with me. As do I! We can definitely conspire together via message.