Characters involved are: Sage (RED), Reoite (ORANGE), Brin (GREEN), Citan (BLUE),
Logged by Brin
Khiea's Dream: Dreams Remembered
You reach the top of the hill, finding yourself... Inside? All of a sudden, you hear the small cry of struck metal as your feet fall upon it.. As here and about the area is carved of metal, and for a reason or another you could -swear- you were in the center and heart of a simple laboratory of sorts. Machines lay scattered about the hilltop but, for some reason, the effect is warm, loving, as if such were things of pleasantries, taking all of the metal is painted in such pretty pastel colors that they all look rather, well, nice.
Two other specific things catch your interest here- the small, circular table that stands rather randomly up in the middle of this area and the one-story house. The table holds a few sets of chairs and a full, pink-hued, well loved child's tea set upon it. The house.. Is bright purple.
Contents:
Reoite(#5260XZ)
Sage
Citan
a Bright Purple House
Sage hears Citan's voice and at first believes it to be his imagination. Possibly something he created in the dream itself. Slowly he realizes that the voice actually came from a person. He climbs up to his feet to properly greet the owner of this voice. "Good evening... Citan?" Citan? It makes sense now... a lot of sense. "I would love to stay a while. I really enjoy it here." It is one of the funner places he visits. He 'walks' over to Citan but it really can't be considered walking since his feet float a little more than an inch above the ground. He lands in front of Ciatn and asks, "What brings you here?"
The pastel warmth of this scene sees to envelop...everything, and such is oblivious to our hero, Reoite, cat of cats, master of the multiverse, catcher of occasional mice, and drinker of milk from gold dishes, as he prances, gravity seeming to be a mere bagatelle to this most noble of beasts, as his feet barely touch the...he drops to the ground, front paws poised as if to strike, and regards the two, as if ready to strike at any moment, a little too much of that feline courage granted to him from the primordial soup of catdom.
"I am always here," is the mild reply, nonchalant against any ominous implications to that statement. "Would you like some tea?" For the man is already moving--and he walks, for he takes a bit of joy in the remembering of grass against shoes and the rustled reconstructions of reality--to the table. There is a teapot there, for there is always a teapot... for there is always something to play at for proper formalities and means of filling in awkward silences during conversation. "And a saucer for you, if you wish?" This to the feline, which similarly does not worry Citan overly much. Such is the way of things.
Sage is momentarily distracted by the crouching cat. The small animal's readyness to attack is a bit disturbing. It is a dream though so he isn't terribly upset. "I would love some tea. I'm a little bit thirsty." Sage doesn't bother with walking and instead soares up into the air and back down into one of the small chairs. This world is just so amuseing. Anything imaginable can happen. The expression of complete amusement is plastered on Sage's face. "So... how have you been?" Being in the dream all the time must have had some affect on this person. Unless Citan is simply a creation of Khiea's mind. Which ever is the case, Sage is grateful to have someone to tak to.
Reoite peers up at the two, bracing himself for the onslaught these adversaries would wreak on him, and that he would deftly bat aside, with a nonchalant paw, as he had done to legions before. And...one resolutely ignores him, leaving the other to..offer...milk? Milk, eh? I'll give him milk! The...the...audacity of it! I could crush you like a twig, puny mortal, only that I choose to keep you alive for my amusement! Steeling himself, he pounces, and lands deftly in the centre of the table, the resting spot he remember from before. I suppose even the master of the multiverse must take a break every now and then. Looking up at Citan, he speaks. "Charmed, I'm sure.", nodding to the base, non-golden saucer before him.
"Unshot, as are you..." A slight memory there. Cathedrals. No. Waking up in a narrow bed and feeling the metal reverberations of the Yggdrasil all about. Citan smiles, shaking his head to his own words and pouring tea for Sage. For Khiea's world is more open to the obvious glees than his own, and there was no terrible need to work against some other subconscious order while in the area. Not that such mattered, unless one traveled further to the other reaches... "I have been well. It is always good to return here," he adds with a glancing about of the by-now familiar realm of the young girl. "Yes," is the single, almost mused word back to the feline. And Citan pours the cream.
Sage staes at Citan slightly shocked for a moment. What an odd comment to say. Sage is unable to make out the reason for Citan saying such a thing. Unshot? Well of course he isn't shot. He shakes his head and responds politely. "I'm glad you haev been doing well." HE is unable to add more. His thoughts still dwell on Citan's first comment. In the fear of being unpolite he says, "Have you spoken to Fei recently? I haven't seen him in the longest time." Well that is random but, he can't think of anything else to say now. He can deal with the talking cat, the floateing, the pastel colors and the little girl's tea set but that comment troubles him. He feels like he should be able to understand something here but then again, he could just be insane.
When choosing a being to be master of the universe, several factors must be considered. One of them may, or may not be that the being not have a master to answer to itself. Floating nonchalantly toward the table, as fast as an invisible breeze can carry an Etone up a hill, Brin disqualifies Reoite from the running. His shoulders hunched in thought, and moving on autopilot, he almost bumps into the table, before he slows to a halt, and his robes, a few seconds beforehand floating several inches in the air, come to rest, arranging themselves neatly around him. He looks between the two at the table, and his face is the picture of bemusedness, until hiz gaze falls to Reoite, lapping happily at the cream, and pretending to ignore him. The grin diappears for a second, as he puts on an exaggerated stern look, and his hands are on his hips now, as he stares down at the cat, softly tutting.
Reoite looks up for a second, then returns to his cream. "No, I haven't. He gave it to me without asking. So there.". Pah.
Citan rubs his thumbs across his temples for a moment before he responds to Sage's concern, the waking habit only passing through for a cameo this time. "I recall you being concerned about the reactions of the pirates," he replies mildly, sliding the cup of tea towards the seated man. Ah. It does not matter. It does not matter. "I have recently reencountered Fei," he remembers to add, lest he drift away again while distracted. Much as from the waking into the dream--but here, now, from the Dream into Nightmare. "Would you like one lump or sugar, or two? And thank you for joining us, Brin," the Guardian adds, already reaching for another cup. "Shall you stay?" Or shall -Citan- is the question. For the man cannot stave off Nightmare much longer before it might reach out to seize him... and rather than subject those around him to that, it is simply kinder... to let go. And begin to fade, with the sigh of, "I apologize..."
Sage slurps his tea in a rather unpolite manner. Citan knows a little too much it seems. He knows what Sage was thinking while he was with Khiea. It was like he and KHiea were... no it couldn't be. That isn't logical. Then again Sage isn't in the most logical places. "As much as I hate to leave Citan... I believe someone may be trying to wake me up." Damn! This was becomeing interesting too. WHy does the real world have to bother him at the most inconvienient moments. "I'm sorry you two... and cat but I have to leave. I will try to return again. I enjoyed talking with you Citan." With that Sage slowly fades away from the dream.
Reoite finishes his cream, and pushes the saucer about the table, lapping the last remnants from the bottom. He looks up, and finds only Brin. "How rude. And I was going to spare them from death, too....Oh, well.".
Brin tuts. Reoite has become too accustomed to this dream environment. If it'd make any difference, I'd tell him off. But... he holds out his sleeve, which droops down, allowing Reoite to leap into it. He clicks his fingers. A nice touch, he thought, as he faded out of this existence. Must start using it more...and he is gone.