Cor Cordis

[Patrick]

Cylus 12 719

The late evening chill had been a difficult one to evade even underneath the layers of his blankets, but after resting long enough in bed sleep slowly seemed to reach the Rharnian's mind. But it wasn't to be the peaceful sleep he expected it to be, not since the time spent in the maze back in Scalvoris. How many times had he thought or actually seen something like shadows? Moving not just out of the corner of his eyes, but in plain sight where others noticed also? He didn't wish to think of that nor them, not when he just wanted to sleep peacefully for the night. Usually he had so much to think about, even his companions knew that lately things seemed to bother him more.

But with a stirring mind now brought to a rest he slipped deeper into the warmth of his blanket, deeper into the state of sleep he sought to attain, and even deeper into the infinite realm of possibilities. The moment he felt himself drift away into that lull, all concept of time and reality slipped momentarily. He came to stir when he felt his face tickled by something, and realized he no longer slept in his bed. To comfort and now greet him as he rose with open eyes, the sight of an endless field with plains that rolled ahead as waves of brown and green swayed before him. The air still felt that tinge of chill but not as bad as before, in fact it felt as though the weather reached the cusp of winter and spring.

Such a cool and gentle place to have woken up within, but as he looked around Patrick noticed the time of day here. Sunset. Pale hues of orange and lavender painted the horizon, as the sun remained petrified in an ever active sky above. Clouds didn't seem to obey the usual laws of nature here, as they seemed to condense and even disperse all at simple whim. Still he looked with wander as he checked the surrounding area, from the look of it the plains continued without end... "I'm... I'm dreaming." He realized with a bit of clarity, although he had yet to figure out how. Typically by now he'd be experiencing something sinister chasing after him, echoes of his past would still attempt to haunt him even after he overcame them.

Even looking at that gentle sunset it somehow still felt too bright for him, thus he turned his back to traverse away from that direction. "Looks like everything's okay here," The lilted sound of Ri'ku's voice spooked Patrick as the fairy like creature flew from behind, her own luminescence seemingly a little brighter to Patrick's eyes as she hovered a few yards ahead. "Guess we won't have to worry about anything just yet."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Patrick grimaced as he looked to see he still wore the shirt and linens, half expecting there to be either some other clothing... or nothing since that happened a lot in his dreams too.

"You haven't noticed? After what happened to the maze?" Patrick didn't have a response to that question. Of course he noticed things but... being aware of the dreams he'd fallen into wasn't normally one of them. Typically he was lucky if he felt himself anywhere aware at all, but now that he reflected on past dreams they seemed clearer than before... "You've not only changed significantly since then Patrick, what happened in the maze can help you fight back all those nightmares!"

"Yeah, okay." He remarked with sarcasm in his tone, clearly not convinced of the reality of the situation. Whatever that reality truly was. His eyes wandered towards the next hill and there he saw a figure, first a form with wings but a blink of the eye changed that. There was somebody else there with him, someone he could hopefully talk to in this solitary place.

Off Topic

Patrick's lucid dreaming but is slowly becoming aware of it, as a result of being initiated into Dreamwalking from this event. Where the setting has taken place is a personal one tied to him, but Emea is a realm of infinite possibility so anything can happen. Have fun!

"Pat", "Ri", "Dom", "NPC"

[Sybil Malach]

A fracture. The appearance of a young woman. It's clear that this being had far less of a true, tangible shape and features than Patrick himself. Its visage fizzles and pops like some alchemist's trick. Sibyl is transient, anchored to this place by mere chance. It's clear by the look the entity gives in the vague direction of Patrick that there's something, perhaps, off about the being's perception. Its features glow brightly, and distort the closer to the face, and center of mass the eyes travel. One can clearly see a cloak, and the vague outlines of a tightly fitting robe. A distant shimmer upon the figure hints to a pin, clasping the ensemble together. The finer details are lost, simply because of the fragmented nature of the being before the man. It almost seems to be only able to exist here, without any threats present. The slightest disruption to its form could send it shattering. But appearances can be deceiving... And the minds of other dreamers, fickle.

As it walks, even its gait is staggered. The sunlight filtering through the fields revealing smoke patterns like burning embers upon the air around Sibyl. The being seemingly in some sort of tug-of-war with the serene surroundings. One part almost willing to utterly blend into the area around, and other struggling to retain 'corporeal' form as what it is. It fails to even leave a trail in the field itself, as it moves. Despite the only mild chill, its breath can be seen upon the air, as though the place was some sort of tundra. A distinct dissonance between the dreamer's perceptions and senses. The edges of Sibyl's body blends with the hues of the field itself.

For a long while, the entity had been walking this field. Mindlessly, as though compelled by some outside force. The wanderlust of life becoming something that is inescapable in dreams. It holds a hand to its own face for a moment, letting out a stammering cough. The sound somewhere between a half-remembered rendition of the noise, and a softer version of a realistic one. A crack of pure white marrs its face, as it stops moving, its influence seemingly brought to a dead halt. "I҉s͢ this the end?" It asks of the man, distantly, as its gaze slowly levels with him, still quite a distance. But it tries, nonetheless, to be heard, even as its voice struggles to even produce sound. The noise akin to a voice being passed through a broken, and scratched crystal chamber, "... I hear two voices... But only one man. I do҉ǹ't́ ̷únd̕er̷sta̧n̷d͘.͡.͏."

[Patrick]

While he'd drawn halfway closer to the figment than he was earlier, Patrick had slowed down to narrow and even wince at what he'd come across. Some spectral entity had come to him it would seem, though from where he could not determine at this point. "Who...?" He couldn't help but mutter as he winced harder, his eyes already sore from the luminescence surrounding her. Even the smallest amount of light felt too much to witness for him, but seeing that another walked these plains in such abundance.

It wasn't Her... but was this person another one of her followers? Patrick had not spared a thought to Qylios even after what she'd done for him, mostly because he still felt afraid of what he was. What he used to be... He'd spent so long living within the shadows casted by his own heart, it was no wonder why any small trace of light almost seemed too much. "The end?" To what? Or where? Could Patrick say anything without it making no sense? Or should he play the pronoun game and pretend he knew the truth? "More rather... someplace special I think, what could be the end if it's what you want." The thought did indeed bring a sense of comfort to him, when he thought that maybe this awaited him beyond death.

But no... this wasn't the end. This place felt more personal to him then that, more deeper in terms to how it reflected in his mind. Patrick had to look away to the sky when he thought more on this, and although the crack in her words led him to notice the unusual anomaly she arrived as; he couldn't spare her a look longer than a glance. She could only hear him speak? Ri'ku was right there with him though and normally, anybody in there would've been able to see her. The only exception had been her being invisible in the waking world, which changed after what had taken place within the maze. So could it have reversed the effects then? Had she fallen invisible in the dreaming world, while those awake would now be able to see her?

"I'm not sure either," the fairy responded in turn to his introverted thoughts, "maybe she just cannot see me yet. Maybe she's not quite as 'here' yet as she needs to be? Or.... Well I don't know..." It truly puzzled Ri'ku as she fluttered around the highlighted form of this woman.

"I'm here with a friend, but for some reason you... can't see her. How... How did you end up here?" He inquired with his arms crossed and eyes fallen to the ground next to him, Patrick had taken to watch the grass as the wind rolled like waves over the plains. Whatever answer she had started to give however would've been cut off, as the very ground beneath them seemed to pulsate a vibration from deep within. For a moment the hastened rumble created uncertain tension in Patrick, that is until the ground once more hummed with more rumbles to accompany it. The air felt a little more weighted now as the dirt shook beneath their feet, until he realized that only portions of the earth had seemed to descend all around.

Or rather... portions ascended which included one he and the girl stood within. Higher and higher they seemed to rise as pillars of land climbed their way up, until at last the earth seemed to touch the heavens. With a sea of clouds surrounding the mass of land they still stood on, the sun became a minor problem from the angle it now rested. Patrick still kept his back turned towards it's warm rays, his eyes lost in the wonder of what now resided before him. "Whoa..." He wasn't sure what to do next however since they were isolated so high up... He partially tried dipping a foot over the edge to see if he would fall or not, and when he felt nothing there for his toes to rest on while his foot dangled; Patrick retreated knowing good and well the risk wasn't worth the effort.

"Somehow here is important, though I don't know why." He admitted as he looked among the other landmasses, curious as to whether he should attempt jumping or not. The fall would be impeccable before he caught onto the side of such a pillar, and there was no guarantee he'd be able to get a foothold even before climbing one... Let alone make the climb itself from such a low point. "But before I forget, who are you exactly?" He asked aloud without looking away from the questionable path before him, unsure if she played a part in this or was perhaps just a stray who had wandered in here.

"Pat", "Ri", "Dom", "NPC"

[Sybil Malach]

Even as the dreamscape shifts, Sibyl is largely far slower than Patrick in reaction time. By the time it reacts, its movements are staggered, as thought it were some kind of wooden automaton depicted through the shadow it casted upon the wall, from the frames of some shoddily made lantern. It pulls its cloak close to its body as the very ground shudders and rises up, towards the sky. While it's hard for Patrick himself to keep his eyes upon Sibyl's form, the Fae is treated to an odd sight that very few see. The aberrant illumination hides the fact that the face is not corporeal enough to form a distinct expression. Instead, it looks like several expressions of abject terror and shock are laid upon one another like a mosaic upon painted glass, and layered atop one another. It shudders, as it slowly begins to form a singular face, as its body begins to take on a defensive posture. Attempting to steel itself against the shifting ground, its legs crouch down, in some attempt to not fall over immediately from the shifting altitudes. Seems that Sibyl isn't used to unsure footing.

Strangely though, the shock of it all brings Sybil into a more harsh corporeality. A shudder, as the transient being is terrified into solidifying at the legs and spine, in some visceral, and primal reaction. Its aberrant glow begins to dim, as more parts of it are forced to take solid shape. Sibyl's face becomes marginally easy to see, or at least less painful, and more defined. Videnese ethnicity slowly becoming more apparent. Its newly formed eyes blink as it struggles to actually handles sight, like some sort of pup in its early years of life. Sibyl staggers for a moment, as it's temporarily distracted with the Fae creature buzzing about the outline of its frame. It has to rub at its own eyes to attempt to clear the strange, blurry, groggy sensation the seems to cover each and every one of its natural senses. Sibyl can feel that there's something wrong, but it can't put its finger on it, nor able to directly focus on it.

"I'd hope not..." It finally responds to any sort of outside stimuli besides direct sight, comprehending things just a bit better. Its voice even becoming more coherent, and far less like some broken sprite of a half remembered origin, "... If this was the end... I'd had to have done something wrong... If this was the end of everything." Its eyes slowly glance around its own surrounding for a moment, as though perceiving it for the very first time. Its form shudders as some distant machination pulses in the waking world. Slowly, carefully, the entity begins to march forward. Finally exerting enough willpower to move itself with some level of consistency to at least be able to walk right. Well, mostly right, as the gait seems to be somewhat fragile. Sibyl shudders, though with how it pulls its cloak closer, and the visibility of its breath, it seems to at least not be some malfunction of its own existence, and more of a reaction to some kind of cold only Sibyl could feel. A genuine sort of reaction that the entity itself doesn't seem to want, or lacks the means, to question. It settles on the edge of the slab of land, near Patrick, its legs dangling off the ledge, "It's... Too quiet." It admits, "I don't know."

Beauty was above, in the brilliantly colored skies, an enrapturing sight. Yet, Sibyl's eyes were elsewhere, looking down the dizzying, perilous drop. If this were any other place, it could be lethal. Taking a deep breath, Sibyl's form slowly begins to solidify further, its illumination dying down just a notch further. But it would never truly depart from Sibyl, as though simply a part of something fundamental to the entity itself. It's struggling to maintain this level of focus, and it's something very clear. Its skin becomes glassy, like ice. Fragile, and easily broken. But at least like this, it seems to be able to actually think straight, "... It was as black as pitch, before this. I don't know. I don't remember." It answers, sighing, as it kneads at its forehead.

Its form flickers at this revelation. Not having answers to two basic questions of existence taking its toll, "... If this place is special... Perhaps we both have a reason of being here?" It asks, dimly.

[Patrick]

Patrick frowned with perplexity at the circumstances before him now, unsure what to do now or where to go from here exactly. To make things more interesting the stranger, who's glow still stung his sight a little, had no clue as to what brought her here with him; much less where she came from at first. Was she an entity? No. Focusing on her mentally he could feel something human about her, something tangible which tethered her to this aspect of reality. Yet she didn't belong here... So she was visiting? Wasn't that what dreamers did without even knowing it, crossing paths with other realities within their minds?

"Well... If there's a reason then I don't know what it is." He remarked with a heavy shrug in his shoulders, his posture irritably tense from the uncertainty. Not that it was this poor woman's fault to begin with, she just happened to meet him at a peculiar point in time. Patrick looked out to the sea of clouds and the other pillars of earth, their distance seemingly increased from one another now that he'd given a second look. The rock beneath them trembled a bit more for a few seconds, the resulting effect a spark at the center of the pillar they stood on.

Another pillar rose to elevate the spark as the earth produced a smoothly carved brazier, with golden fire caught in it's pit now in place of where that spark resided. While it proved almost too bright for him to look at, Patrick hovered a hand over his eyes to block some of the light. Upon approach the air surrounding it immediately felt warm and welcoming, almost as though the presence was familiar not just to Patrick but Sybil too.

Whispers seemed to hum from within the flames, words which sounded so very faint and distant to them... but for Patrick they bordered reminiscent of him somehow. "What?" He craned his head sideways in total confusion and for a moment became blinded, as the gilded flame burned bright enough to overwhelm even Sybil. What happened to Patrick beyond that remained a bit of a mystery, for he vanished as the fire dimmed back to its original glow. Sybel was left to her own devices without him there now; able to try and explore beyond the pillar she was isolated on, or further investigate the flame that illuminated the center.

Off Topic

Sorry this one is shorter, this post is more of a prompt for your PC. Curious to see where this leads for her.

"Pat", "Ri", "Dom", "NPC"

[Sybil Malach]

Sybil was alone.

Patrick's departure left the nomadic dreamer on its own. It was not instantaneous, what decision was made. Something in the waking world is happening to the dreamer, on this day. Something that almost disrupts the lull of sleep. Its frame becomes more luminous, as it starts to unravel, breaking apart in a slow, methodical fashion. The dreamscape, slowly, was being overcome by ice. This was once a special place, while the main dreamer was here. But now that a shattered fragment of a person remains, impulses begin to control some aspects of the land. The pillars begin to take on a strange texture. Starting at the very bottom, they become nearly frozen, with tendrils of frost slowly rising to the top of them. But beneath, it would expose some sort of fleshy texture, as though it were frozen skin. No, not skin. It looked like the layer beneath fat. Darkness began to swirl up from beneath in tendrils nearly mocking the frost itself. Something, was beginning to worm its way towards Sybil. Something obvious, but something terrible.

The flickering figure looked down, into it. It was enough to instill panic. This fragment of Sybil was not primal, or did it care about the societal teachings of its fuller body. It was the brunt of the personality. And the fear of being erased, even if it was a figment of some dream, terrified it. The sensation itself is enough to dull the light around the entity, and bring it into a more stable existence, as it struggles to keep its hold upon itself. It was succeeding, for once, in that regard. Perhaps in part to the dreamscape's intent, but perhaps, in some unconscious level, the dreamer was simply unable to awaken at this time. The motivation behind the entity wasn't primal, nor was it something it felt like it needed to feel. It simply did not want to cease to exist.

A movement is taken towards the flames. Ice begins to choke the surroundings, as it slowly freezes over. This was Sybil's influence. Though something the dreamer is completely unaware of, the impulses stain on the dreamscape itself, now that the more powerful dreamer has left. By the time the entity manages to even get close to the flames, the sound of soles against thick ice could be heard, echoing into the rapidly approaching void below. It was like a siren call to Sibyl's fragments. Something was attempting to overtake this fragment, from a distance. As though the Whole were deciding that this piece of existence outlived itself.

As though it needed to be suppressed.

Something that this piece of Sybil did not want. With the frost climbing its left leg, the entity makes the very decision that preserves its existence, if for a moment longer. It jumps to the flames within the Brazier itself. Uncaring of the consequences. Hell was upon its heels, and it was not going to become a sacrificial lamb for the sake of whatever distant machination demanded it.

Either it would work, or the fragment of the dreamer would be consumed, to awaken.

[Patrick]

The moment he vanished from the spot they were stuck on Patrick had felt his mind swirl, a clouded haze tickled his thoughts as he slowly regained control. The air had grown incredibly frigid all of a sudden as he found himself on the floor, hands and knees planted on cold hard stone in some corridor. There were lanterns to light the hallway, and what appeared to be a door waiting for him at the end of the corridor. Where had he gone?

Even Ri'ku seemed to have vanished out of sight, and no trace of that spector lingered either now that he looked around. With bare feet pressed on the smooth stone beneath them, Patrick looked back to find that the other end of the corridor had the same thing; a wooden door that seemed to lead into the unknown. So should he go straight? Or turn back and see if he'd return to where he came from?

He almost wanted to shiver now that he stood here, the cold sharp enough to nip but somehow... barely even inconvenience him with frozen limbs. None of this seemed to make sense at all, and for a moment he didn't want to do much of anything. Choosing one way or the other could've led to an uncomfortable situation or even perhaps danger, given the fact his mind had many dark corners he would've rather avoided.

Nonetheless after a debate over what to do he finally sighed, and since standing around wasn't going to resolve this situation; he opted to move forward towards the door he'd first laid eyes on. He walked forward with caution in his step as he picked up on a peculiar noise, a soft humming which started as a whisper the closer he drew. With every step towards the door it grew ever slightly louder, as though something called out to him the more he approached.



Sybil found that the flame welcomed her with intensity felt within its warmth, the embrace met with a flash of light as she felt herself flung. Flung deeper into a place where the ice couldn't reach, a place where the warmth overwhelmed at first but then gradually settled. Sure enough she'd find herself in a meadow enclosed by groves of gnarled trees, the faint sounds of children laughing echoing from all around as she arrived.

From the sound of it there were three different laughs heard, but just as soon as those too faded only one such small figure appeared. A young boy with scruffy hair and intense hazel eyes stared at her hard, as though he'd just witnessed an intruder breaking an entering. Then again this place felt much like his home, a sanctuary from the world beyond the green treetops which sheltered them both inside.

The air and grass felt warm and soft to the touch though, almost welcoming now that Sybil had been acknowledged by this child. Even the breeze seemed to have encouraged her to feel at ease, then again the visitor could've very well done as she pleased.

"Who are you?" He seemed to ask with a stern tone, almost alarmed even now that Sybil joined him. "How'd you find this place?" In his intense eyes there seemed to be confusion as well as innate curiosity, but it looked as though the boy were to run if she made any sudden moves.

"Pat", "Ri", "Dom", "NPC"

[Sybil Malach]

Something was left behind. Too much of the frost of wakefulness had touched Sibyl. The fragmented dreamer pulsed through the glade in a confusing, almost shattering motion. By the time the entity had settled... Its form had been changed by whatever was behind the flames. Its left leg was bound by ice itself. As though it were some kind of parasite gripping at the dreamer. Even in this warm, inviting forest, it crackled, in its delicate, strangeness. Sybil had to take a breath, after the ordeal. It strained the mind of the dreamer, but the fragment simply saw it as exhaustion, more than anything else.

The entity hardened in its form, as it's spoken to. Eyes flickering over to the origin, it views the child through ethereal eyes, "I don't know." It answered the first question. Genuinely. The ice clinging to its leg was seeping into its very existence. Its core. Like a curse. It was beginning to erode, as the dreamer was preparing to awake outside of the dreamworld. ... But the existence of this entity forbid it, at least for now. It took a breath, as it slowly glanced around, as though trying to cipher its surroundings. It paid little mind to the child, seemingly more confused by the surroundings. It was as though this sort of greenery was foreign to the entity. As though this is perhaps one of the few times this amount of shrubbery, let alone grass, was even witnessed by it, "I did not come here by intention. I don't think. This place is... Unknown. Strange."

Slowly, the entity reached up to its head, as though overcome by a slight migraine. Its body was slowly solidifying, taking shape. The delusion of the dream was becoming stronger. And with an inaudible snap, the ethereal glow left the dreamer. Sibyl became a person within the dream. Still distorted, still with a frozen leg, but at the very least, it was believable as a creature within a dream. The fragment of Sibyl's thoughts not becoming lucid to the fact that it was in a dream, but more concrete in the belief of its reality. Of not only the dreamworld's reality, but its own. It was, after all, still a fragment. A part of a larger whole, that would soon be assimilated upon awakening. Something that its survival impulses slowly began to forget about. In this moment, it was its own living thing. In no danger of simply being assimilated.

Slowly, Sibyl began to look back at the child. A confused expression crossed its face, as it seems to think something over. Sibyl draws a light breath, "Where am I?" It finally asks of the child. The dreamer pulls its cloak closer, as though trying to warm the quickly sapping body heat. This was, after all, an almost completely frozen limb. And it didn't seem to show signs of thawing any time soon. Its eyes settle upon it. Confused, for a moment, it continues to speak, just a moment more, "And where are we?"

[Patrick]

The boy looked to the figure before him with wary eyes and for a moment, considered approach but remained firm in his spot now that she spoke. The ice on her leg looked painful to see, and because of that the pain of understanding was prominent within the child's eyes. He knew what it felt like during those cold Cylus nights, where the fires were never warm enough and the blankets barely insulated. But his struggles weren't akin to what Sybel suffered now... or were they? "It's my home!" He announced defensively as if her calling this place strange offended him. "It's where I like to hide!"

And hide he would if he wanted to, but the condition of this woman called out to him. "Does..." He paused the question with hesitation in his first few steps. "Does it hurt?" Again more sounds of children laughing faintly filled the air of the grove, even though nobody but the boy remained in sight. Finally after a long considerable pause the boy moved towards her, caution still in his form as he crept up to her at a steady pace. "I can make it go away." He offered with a faint smile on his face.

"I can make it stop, but you have to play in return." Sure enough the bargain came with another glint in his eye, curious as to whether or not the lady would agree to the clause.



When he entered beyond the door Patrick walked into a room somewhat familiar, mostly because the first few aisles were shelving units filled with books. When he stopped to look closely, one such book seemed immediately out of place sit it rested on the floor instead. When he approached to pick it up he narrowed his eyes, curious to see that the name etched into the leather was "Karavora Seftivenum." He recognized that name from... from here actually... He had met someone here before, someone with the name Aeodan now that recalled correctly.

So was this place a reflection of that man? Or of Patrick in some way? Looking at the tome he grimaced at what fragmented memory was left of that moment, the book slid back into its proper place as he wished it and the memory farewell. He did have much more exploring to do of course and he really did want to see what else awaited him in this room.

It was more so unusual because in memory he could only recall the bookshelves running on forever, almost as though it were the reality of the dream he'd fallen into back then. Now though when he passed the second aisle of the shelves however the room looked far bigger, and somewhat emptier save for the unusual oddities he found. There looked to be some big sort of contraption overhead, something that reminded him of a chandelier but only... there were multiple rings which remained stagnant, while the center of the contraption remained an empty space for the time being.

Then there was another area with cases and shelves that seemed for displaying things, however those seemed nearly barren save for a few trinkets he recognized. The silver locket he always wore, the chalice which helped him find Orimar, the shimmering nel he found after he lost his spark... He noticed that nearby was a stairwell to some sort of observatory built on the second floor, and beneath that stairwell what used to be a doorway filled with rubble. Something about that felt connected to him as well, did this place resemble aspects of him which he wasn't aware of?

At the heart of the room there was the brazier again, unlit though compared to the first one he'd laid eyes on earlier with Sybel. Did he need to light this one somehow? Was there a firestarter kit somewhere? Unsure about where to look Patrick roamed the emporium to find something, anything, that could maybe get a fire going in the brazier.

"Pat", "Ri", "Dom", "NPC"

[Sybil Malach]

"... No. This is simply how my leg is." Sibyl's response comes smoothly. Eyes slowly glancing down to the dreamer's leg. A slow bend of the knee is given, and the ice seems to bend with the leg itself. It was the arbitrary reality of the construct of Sibyl's mind. It didn't matter that this made no internal sense. The illusion had to keep running in order to exist. A dream could not recognize the dream. It would spell the death of the dream itself. Things simply shifted in the dreamer's mind, so that such questions were never asked. The cancerous growth of ice clung to its flesh simply, and easily. As though it were merely a part of the dreamer itself. A slow breath is drawn, as the fragmented dreamer focuses. Now more of a believable construct, it had more to think about. More to consider. Its eyes glance to the child, once more, "But I will play your game.

The words leaving the dreamer's lips are that of someone who, simply, wishes to indulge in the dream. Right now... Sibyl was technically someone else. Someone that would merge with the whole. A shake of the head is given, regardless, as a breath is taken, "Everywhere is strange for me right at this moment." Comes the admission, as Sibyl grasps at its own head with an offhand. This was strange. This entire ordeal wasn't, no. It was the ice. Something was making the dreamer feel strange. The ice that clung to the leg was natural, but something about the thrumming it had upon the flesh... It confused the dreamer. It was a cloying sensation to finally awaken. To enter the waking world once more. A siren call. But, with a slow shake of the head, it's promptly ignored, "So, what is this game?" The dreamer finally asks of the child, with a curious expression.