Chapter Text
Brass and stars. Ash, flowers, and a note bearing two words only.
“Forgive me.” But am I enjoying this? A scholar only knows such bounds that constrain him to this mortal plane, this spinning rock in a void amongst voids. 16 with 8? Yes. Each different, but with the same demise . It is the second Era, year 577.
The swishing grass tickles my hand as I pick up my pen again. I study the band snuggly circling my digit. Mazes upon mazes glint and fold upon its surface, squinting to find myself lost in it. How did I come across such an unusual magically-humming trinket? Why can’t I seem to take it off ? Where did it come from? In due time, the answers will come to me, I can only assume.
Stars of voices, of fear and despair, of certainty, but most of all, with silent contemplation. A mechanical beating heart, cracking as if slag off an earthen forge. A ring finger falling off and turning to ash as it hits the false, upturned and clawed-at earth. A bronze perfection in place. The brief flash of images happens again. They’re all different. I lay in the grass clutching my head wishing that sorrow to go away. It isn’t mine! The stinging of tears in my eyes well and I gasp, journal all but forgotten.
“Get up. It is okay, my friend.” A voice. Soft, intellectual, and patient, yet stern. Fatherly. I look up from the headache. Nobody’s there. Of course not. Another flash. Ashen hair falls in strands, waving back and forth as they knock each other. Golden fixtures and understanding eyes, white glimmering robes laid with satin muted blues.
I pull my legs close to my chest as I drag myself to sit up, the grass mulled under my weight. The air filters through my lungs in a quiet sigh, the taste of delicious, crisp apples on the breeze. Perfect wheels dance across the sky to a silent waltz, their constant drone and clicking into place can be heard across the whole plane. The celestiodrome. Yeah, that’s what it was.
Tattered white fabric and mechanical claws and limbs shifting together seamlessly. Great utterances shuddering and vibrating through the metal ground.
“Ow.” The simple stabbing in my head during each flash is interrupted by this reality. It never happens when the mysterious elf talks though, maybe something I should thank him for next time I dream. Oblivion, if I ever get said sleep. Where was I? Uncurling myself to gather my belongings strewn about the artificial grass, I take a glance at the last few sentences:
‘ ...With each flash I control liminal illusions. I’ll have to retreat to the Everwound Wellspring to at least try and meditate on these happenings. No, that wasn’t the reason. I needed to concentrate on them more. Others look strange about what happens to me, but if I can just understand them and unravel the mysteries. Ha, listen to yourself. I’ve only been here for a few da ’
Finish that, then, strapping my book to my satchel and fixing my robes, I venture towards the Clockwork City.