Timestamp: 7th of Ashan, Arc 722
Emea had changed.
This wasn't new news, of course—the Ascension had changed a great many things in the world, and Emea was in many ways one of the least important, or at least the least relevant to Prae's life. But it was still something that Prae had difficulty getting used to. Once, the world of dreams and the world of the waking had been close enough that Praetorum could carry things between them. Now, it seemed dreams and reality were firmly split.
His dreamscape, too, had changed, seemingly anchoring itself much more firmly in Praetorum's soul. Where once his dreams had been ever changing, reflecting his mind's every whim, now it seemed to have settled into a single form.
Sort of.
Wandering aimlessly through the halls of his dreamscape, Praetorum ran his claws over the weapons lining the walls, letting flashes of memories trickle through his mind. Each weapon was a fight Prae had had, whether it be a duel in Yaralon, soldiers in Nashaki, bandits in Rharne, fanatics in Melrath. Each was locked in place in their weapon stand. Intuitively, Prae understood that if someone were to take or destroy a weapon, it would warp or even erase the memory attached to it. These memories were, ultimately, unimportant—but that didn't mean Prae liked the idea of anyone messing with them. They were of little significance, but they were his all the same.
There was a flutter of wings, and Aurien perched itself on Prae's head, peering down at the rack of swords and spears and shields. "That's a lot of weapons," it informed Prae, tail swishing over the back of his neck.
"I've been in a lot of fights," Prae pointed out. "I've been a soldier since I was eighteen."
Aurien counted on its claws. "That's a long time," the diri conceded, before hopping down to Prae's shoulder to curl up in a ball.
Chuckling softly, Prae floated on down the hallway, heading for the next section of his dreamscape. It was funny—even in dreams, Prae preferred floating to walking. Only here, he didn't need to worry about ether expenditure, or scaring non mages with defiance. Here, Prae could just... move the way he wanted to.
Could a dreamwalker without defiance do the same, Prae wondered. Floating through the air, sinking through walls, all of it felt natural to Prae, the actions similar to what he could do in the waking world. Did other dreamwalkers have difficulty grasping this sort of movement?
Emea had changed.
This wasn't new news, of course—the Ascension had changed a great many things in the world, and Emea was in many ways one of the least important, or at least the least relevant to Prae's life. But it was still something that Prae had difficulty getting used to. Once, the world of dreams and the world of the waking had been close enough that Praetorum could carry things between them. Now, it seemed dreams and reality were firmly split.
His dreamscape, too, had changed, seemingly anchoring itself much more firmly in Praetorum's soul. Where once his dreams had been ever changing, reflecting his mind's every whim, now it seemed to have settled into a single form.
Sort of.
Wandering aimlessly through the halls of his dreamscape, Praetorum ran his claws over the weapons lining the walls, letting flashes of memories trickle through his mind. Each weapon was a fight Prae had had, whether it be a duel in Yaralon, soldiers in Nashaki, bandits in Rharne, fanatics in Melrath. Each was locked in place in their weapon stand. Intuitively, Prae understood that if someone were to take or destroy a weapon, it would warp or even erase the memory attached to it. These memories were, ultimately, unimportant—but that didn't mean Prae liked the idea of anyone messing with them. They were of little significance, but they were his all the same.
There was a flutter of wings, and Aurien perched itself on Prae's head, peering down at the rack of swords and spears and shields. "That's a lot of weapons," it informed Prae, tail swishing over the back of his neck.
"I've been in a lot of fights," Prae pointed out. "I've been a soldier since I was eighteen."
Aurien counted on its claws. "That's a long time," the diri conceded, before hopping down to Prae's shoulder to curl up in a ball.
Chuckling softly, Prae floated on down the hallway, heading for the next section of his dreamscape. It was funny—even in dreams, Prae preferred floating to walking. Only here, he didn't need to worry about ether expenditure, or scaring non mages with defiance. Here, Prae could just... move the way he wanted to.
Could a dreamwalker without defiance do the same, Prae wondered. Floating through the air, sinking through walls, all of it felt natural to Prae, the actions similar to what he could do in the waking world. Did other dreamwalkers have difficulty grasping this sort of movement?