Dreams of Sea and Stars

[Vega]

86th Zi'da 716

Vega had fallen asleep easily that night. Easier than the other nights since she'd arrived in Desnind because she'd stopped sharing a camp with Ti'niva and had set up on her own. It was better all around, the young woman thought and her sleep had been easier in coming. It was heavier, too and dreams came more quickly that night than they had before. Piling in one on top of the other as her silver blood shone reflected in the moons'light.

She was sitting on a crate, waiting for her father. The docks of the city they were stopping in were busy and resembled the docks of Rharne which she had thought about earlier that trial. She sat on the crate, hands folded in her lap, across which rested the delicate lace parasol which protected her fair skin from the beating sun. There were people moving all around, but she was still and serene, a sea of calmness. She wore a beautiful, intricate dress of green with lace and brocade, tiny details which one would have to be almost inches away from her to notice dotted all over the dress. It was, as dresses went, truly exquisite and she had a matching hat perched atop her head. The brim shielded her delicate skin from the sun and the green lace gloves covered her hands, providing the final touch for this lady's outfit.

In front of her, there were children playing. Three of them, all of them Biqaj were rough housing on the dockside. Two boys and a girl, the boys with long dark hair and the girl, of course, with the familiar tousled red. They were smaller than her, but broader, more stocky whereas she was all elbows and knees, long and gangly and not quite fitting together. For all of that, though, in the fight they were having, she gave as good as she got if not better and as she landed a blow on one of the lad's nose and blood started to run, Vega turned to look at the man sitting next to her. She smiled and lifted the fan which she didn't know she was holding in her hand, fluttering it to move the air.

"She got into awful trouble for that," she motioned to the young Biqaj girl who had just bloodied the boy's nose. "From the adults, of course, but he had his revenge, too. I thought I should wait here for my father." She gestured around and sighed slightly. "But I don't think he's coming, which is a shame. I wanted to tell him the stories of my trial. He'd be interested in that, I met a boy with a hat and I went hunting." Lifting the parasol, she opened it and covered herself from the sunlight. "We got lost in the woods once, him and I. Ten trials it was. In a place just like this. Nowhere, really. Somewhere and nowhere, just a place filled with people who are trapped and pretending not to be. What about you?" She turned and asked, with an interested expression on her face.

"This is a dock. Ships come in, they leave. Goods arrive and depart, it's constant. Everyone's going somewhere. Where are you going?"

[Arlo Creede]

The nice thing about being young, and having had a relatively happy if uneventful childhood, was that there weren't any regrets to dream about. Nothing he'd done that he wished he'd done differently. No catastrophic events or heartbreaking losses. No near death experiences and no atrocities witnessed. He was too young, or maybe too foolish and too bold to fear the unknown or unexpected.

People older than him, who'd had time to experience more or come to regret more, had those unpleasant experiences stored away in their subconscious. Arlo didn't worry about any of those things or dream about them either. Dreams for him were where his ambitions and imagination came out to play. He slept soundly too, most trials, even when it was bitter cold in the outdoors. Especially after Nyova. The little fairy was always nearby and watching, and tended to rouse and inform him if there was anything he ought be concerned about.

And so he'd slept, dreaming in a surreal landscape where fluffy white clouds and repeating arched marble bridges turned out instead to be lines of tall white sailing ships on a sky blue sea. Where well worn paths through ancient forests transformed into dragons of green and brown and gold. And a bronze traveler's compass wilted and dripped like melted butter off the side of his palm as he explored.

The difference between this dream and the ones he'd had before Jesine had given her his blessing, was that slowly, Arlo was discovering that he could interact with his dreams in ways he'd never done before. He could move them, shape them and when he woke, he remembered them in vivid detail.

But this night something changed, and something unexpected happened. Whether he'd done it in a way he didn't understand, whether some outside force had done it, or whether it was simple happenstance, suddenly he found himself seated on a crate on a busy dock somewhere that he didn't know or recognize. There were boats on the water and there were children playing. Three of them, two boys and a girl. And he was sitting beside a woman that was dressed in an awful fancy way, to be sitting on a crate at the docks herself. Unless she was waiting for a lover or someone else dear to her.

On second thought, Arlo knew that woman. Though he maintained he hadn't seen her dressed in such a way before. Was this her dream then, and he'd stumbled into it? It was probably enough to say that it was a dream, and anything was possible. He grinned back at her. "Nice hat. And funny that," he added, after she told him what she was doing there. "I met a girl, and we went hunting too. She shot a bow and her aim wasn't half bad."

He knew he was dreaming, but thought that she might not. But in the way he'd reshaped his own dreams, he wondered, could he help shape this one that they shared together. He looked out to sea, considering her question, and as he did a line of tall white sailing ships appeared out of fluffy clouds and marble bridges. "I might go where they're going," he told her. "Or maybe," Arlo added as he pointed out a man some ways down the dock, an anonymous man with only shadows where his face should be. "I'll wait for my father too. Are you trapped too?" he asked curiously.

[Vega]

"It was the hat I noticed about her first, you know. It seemed so strange, how it sat there and wasn't straight. I'd never seen anything like it," Vega gestured to the red-haired child. She had no idea she was dreaming and yet, on some level she knew that the child was her. "She seemed so out of place sitting there, like the hat and the corset and the gloves and the gown, they weighed her down. I mean, they're beautiful, but why would anyone wear them?" Beneath her perfectly placed hat, Vega grinned at him. "And I'm not a girl. I'm grown up now. I just wondered who she was waiting for, sitting there so still and held down. I hope it was someone interesting." It would be a real shame if it wasn't Vega considered.

She watched as the clouds became a marble arched bridge which then was beautiful white-sailed ships. It didn't seem to bother her that it did that, though she frowned slightly. "But they're going in a straight line. That isn't how it works, you know. On land, it might seem it, but that isn't how we sail." She seemed content to watch the children for a while, sitting in silence as she twirled the parasol. She looked at the man with no face, though, and frowned. "Is that your father? I thought you said you had a step father? Or was that the fish in the pond...... " Vega looked down at the ground where her idea of an ornamental pond suddenly was. It was a small and vivid blue pond filled with fish made from rubies and amethyst, diamonds and emeralds. "Did your father buy her fish too? We eat them, but we couldn't eat those. Too crunchy."

Was she trapped too? Vega turned to look at him, her eyes a deep gold. "Everyone's trapped, even if it's by freedom, aren't they?" She felt quite sure and she turned her golden gaze to the child with the red hair. "She's trapped. Doesn't fit. Lives her life on the sea, but gets seasick still. Father says it's in my head and heart, the sickness. Silver blood, changing eyes, ask about her mother, Eva cries." It sounded like a rhyme, a song even as she said it. But who Eva was, she didn't say. "I'd be trapped if I stayed there, I knew it. An almost- Biqaj, that's what he used to call me." She motioned to the boy whose nose the girl had bloodied. "His name is Reese, he's my cousin and I bloodied his nose more than once. He always won, though. So, I decided to leave and now I'm going to find out about the other half of me, then pick up what I have, wrap up what I know and still be me when I walk away. Is that trapped? I don't feel it. I feel free."

She shrugged, thoughtfully. "But I guess I might be. What about you, Arlo? Would you like this?" Vega took off the hat and handed it to him with a quizzical expression, whilst still keeping a copy of it firmly on her head. "Would you like to go hunting again? I bet you I could get him if I aimed well." She nodded at the boy who had tormented her throughout her childhood and her violet eyes looked equal parts mischief and mayhem. She was joking about shooting a child, but here in her dream where her subconscious was free, Vega was only mostly joking. "Or if you like, we can go play on the swings over there." True enough, hanging from a tree which looked remarkably familiar was a set of swings suitable for older children. Probably about the age she'd accused him of being and yet denied vehemently she'd said any such thing.

[Arlo Creede]

Ah, Arlo saw it more clearly now. This was definitely Vega's dream that he'd somehow stumbled into. She was the girl, and the girl was her. And the hat and the dress. It was surprising for the young man to see her this way, when it seemed so unlike the woman he'd already gotten to know. He could see her now, a little girl sat on a crate at the docks, dressed in frocks and a funny hat, waiting for her father or someone else. And he wondered if she'd kept waiting, or if they'd ever come.

"It makes you wonder whether they ever come, doesn't it? Is that why you're waiting too?" Arlo asked. Funny. He realized that next morning, he'd remember this dream. And he'd remember what she told him. But chances were, she wouldn't. "I like them that way though," he told her, regarding the ships. But when she asked about his father, he shrugged, and the faceless man disappeared on a whim. "He might be, and I do. The fish just seemed to happen. One trial they weren't, and the next they were. They arrived in a barrel, you know. Ours were made of copper and gold. The raccoons didn't seem to mind them."

And then Arlo frowned and looked back at the children. Was one of them Eva? "If you feel free, you're free. And if you don't, then it's a cage of your own making," he decided. "If you feel it, you are." She handed him the hat and he grinned, pausing before he took it. "I might." So he placed it on his head, considered it a moment and then declared, "It's a very fine hat. I'm not sure it suits me." And on a whim, the thing turned into his own but with a jaunty colorful feather sticking up out of the band.

But she knew it was him, at least in her dream. And he wondered again if she'd remember any of it. Even bits and disconnected pieces when she awoke. "I think I would like to hunt again. But nothing to hunt here," Arlo declared. "Let's swing instead." Rope and board swings, he noted, and wondered if her father had made something like them. Either way, like the melted compass remembered from his own dream, a little imagination made her seat on the swing more willing to conform to her shape, more amenable to comfort. As for him, he stood on a seat of his own, taking hold of the rope with one hand.

"When I was a kid, my stepfather made me a swing with a handhold on it, and hung it from a branch over a nice deep pond." Getting his own swing going to and fro, farther and farther with each push, he pointed just in front of them where said deep pond had appeared. "Bet I can land farther into that pond than you can. Unless you're worried about messing up that dress of yours," he said, daring her to try it.

[Vega]

"I don't know if they ever came, I never saw who she was waiting for." Vega smiled, watching as the scene in front of them unfolded. A tall man, taller than his grown daughter stepped up and scooped up the redhaired girl, flinging her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "My father came, see? Scooped me up and took me back to the ship. I got into such trouble, so I did. I never knew who she was waiting for, or if they ever came." She shrugged slightly and looked at Arlo with a quizzical expression. "I often wondered, though. Thought up stories and stuff about who she was. Might have been a princess or a warrior, a priestess or off to an arranged marriage to a fat and ugly man. I decided, though, she was running away." Why she'd decided that, she didn't know but as the Biqaj man hauled off the girl and grabbed the boy with the bleeding nose by the ear, taking him along, Vega watched too.

She looked like her father, or at least the father in her dream. More than that, though, by looking at him it was easy to see what she could become in terms of physique; a bit stronger, a bit more muscle and the easy grace with which her father walked and Vega would, undoubtedly, look a lot more like him. She laughed when he said that he liked the ships that way, though, a deep and almost manly laugh with no guile to it at all. "Well, if what we'd like to be was fish in the sea we'd never starve, would we?" It was good, though, that the raccoons didnt mind them and Vega nodded. "I was talking about raccoons earlier. I don't remember, though."

He declared it a fine hat and when it transformed into his hat she barked a laugh again. "You're an odd boy. For a farm boy, you're odd. I'm glad to have met you though, you taught me about how important a good hat is. I might even get one. Another one, that is. But yes! I'd like to swing." She moved over with him and sat on the swing, ignoring the flowing skirts and leaving the parasol behind her, she sat down and declared, "Oh! It's comfortable, too." When he told her about the swing his stepfather made him, Vega nodded. "Jewels for your mother and a swing for you? He sounds like a good father, a good man." Pushing with her feet, Vega curled her legs underneath her as she swung backwards and stuck them out straight in front of her whilst leaning back as she swung forward. Evidently, she'd done it before and more than once. She matched him, swing for swing and in the dream somehow, because of course it was a dream, they matched each other.

"My father did the same with me, all of us children on the boat, we had three swings in a line like this, but we were surrounded by a nice deep pond. The trick was to make sure you got far enough out that you didn't hit the side of the ship and die, of course. But I don't know if that actually could happen, he just warned us a million times. So I bet you that you can't, you know. I never had to aim for the pond, just focus on how far I could get, and I always won." She looked at him with a grin, not thinking to wonder how it was that they were both swinging so very high and fast and yet, both of their hats stayed firmly planted on their heads. "Together? You count us down."

Assuming that he did, the swing before the one they let go, she noted where the zenith of her swing was, where the absolute maximum was. That was the trick, she knew from childhood, to exit the swing just at the moment where you were still moving forward but without sacrificing any of the height. That was what she did and, without a care for anything such as dresses or safety, she let go and flew. With a delighted whoop of pleasure she felt herself soar and, as she hit the water in the dream, Vega woke up, turned back over and went back to sleep, almost immediately falling into a quite different dream.

[Arlo Creede]

Maybe she'd never remained long enough in the dream, Arlo thought, to have seen who the redheaded girl was waiting for. Or who she was waiting for. Something unresolved, maybe. But then a man appeared and Arlo realized something that she'd come to confirm. Father.

But was that genuinely who she was waiting or looking for? Or was it someone who'd never come at all? Her mother, maybe. When they'd first met on the path outside of Desnind, she'd told him she was looking for her mother's people. It was her dream, not his really, and the answers, or questions without answers were hers. Not his and there was a part of him that decided maybe it was better not to press his advantage in the dream even though he believed he could. It felt a little like a trespass, and Vega was becoming a friend.

"And if wishes were horses, beggars would ride," he agreed. "But anything's possible here, really. Even ships in a neat row on the ocean." And so they'd swing, and when she commented on his father, he shrugged. "A good man, sure. But he wasn't my father. He approximated one best he could though." As they talked, standing on his swing, Arlo pushed and pulled himself higher and higher, matching each to and fro motion to hers. And when they let go, they let go together.

Where she flew through the air like an ordinary body might, Arlo opted for style rather than distance. Flips and somersaults were much easier, and better in dreams he'd discovered, and he turned several of them in the air before plunging into the middle of the cool deep pond. He surface a trill or two later, laughing and sputtering, and exclaimed, "You did it farther, but I did it better!" But of course, she was gone. So were the docks and the ocean and the line of tall white sailing ships. The only thing left was a gray void surrounding a cool dark pond, and him drenched and alone. In the quiet of the night, Arlo turned over and returned to his previous dream.

[Ent]

Name: Vega

Knowledge:
Arlo: Was in your dream
Arlo: An odd boy
Arlo: His step farther seems like a good man
Arlo: Liked your hat but didn't think it would suit him
Arlo: Taught you the importance of a good hat
Acrobatics: Best time to jump from a swing

Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A
Fame: N/A
Devotion: N/A

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: 5/5
Structure: 5/5
Magic: N/A

Comment: No issues with story, collaboration or structure. That was a very sweet little dream there, you have a very interesting character and I like how you write her. You and Arlo work very well together, I have seen your none dream threads and they are great too. Very enjoyable to read but sorry about he lack of knowledge, I was struggling there, especially for you.

Name: Arlo

Knowledge:
Vega: She is very different in her dreams
Vega: Thinks you are odd
Vega: Is glad to have met you
Vega: Had a swing on the boat as a child
Vega: Both the child and grown woman in her dream
Vega: Jumped further than you
Acrobatics: Using a swing
Acrobatics: Doing flips is easier in dreams
Dreams: Are not remembered well by those not marked by Jesine
Dreams: The place where your imagination comes to life


Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A
Fame: N/A
Devotion: +5 Jesine (Dream with others(Collab Dream Thread))

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: 5/5
Structure: 5/5
Magic: N/A

Comment: No issues with story, collaboration or structure. I have actually had the pleasure of writing with you Arlo and so I am very glad I got to graded this and see Arlo's dreaming in action. Very good job, you work well with Vega and I am excited to see where your character will go. Again as I said for Vega, sorry for the lack of knowledge I was struggling with what to give so sorry about that. Very sweet and nice thread to read, I look forward to seeing more from the two of you.

If you have any questions or concerns please do PM me I struggled with knowledge in this one sop if you think I missed anything do let me know. Enjoy the rewards!