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Zarsies

[Vision] The Starlight Swine

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All seers across the realm share in a frightful vision in the dead of night, thrusting them awake if not already restless and stirring.

 

 

 

Dreamy mists fold and coalesce before parting to reveal a strange scene. Overheard arcs a grand, vaulting ceiling which cascades down into pillars and vacant halls comprised of rectangular, iridescent bismuth as green and misty as jade; no doors, no windows, no furniture, no one. The alien architecture ripples as though it were melting yet it stands magnificent and tall.

 

Centered in this palace lays some legged serpent, a pitiful and meek thing, coiled with its eyes closed. It shifts in its sleep as what cradles it struggles to come into focus. A bizarre, dark mass coddles the little thing, something like a nest of worms undulating and slick yet it is veiled with an obscuring blur, shimmering and speckled like a dirty reflection.

 

The edges of the visual flicker and cloud as the scene shifts to the worm-thing’s view over the resting runt, gaze transfixed on its dull, raised scales, its long, coiled body, its sad little legs, its strange snout. A stray, segmented tentacle strokes the babe’s tiny forehead, a peace to its lulling.

 

The stillness breaks like glass as a hulking shadow stretches out towards the blurry entity from ahead; it looks up and the shadow twinkles like a night sky and from where the vision began looms a ghastly, beastly brute. Beneath its pale fur it abounds with thick, rippling muscles but its eyes demand attention first.

 

The towering creature is topped by a slack-jawed head of a boar with great, protruding ivory tusks. Worst are its eyes, dull and glazed yet fractals of starlight spill from their infinitesimal pupils and tear through the palace, waves of black starfields cutting against the emerald structure. It steps closer. Terror wells in your stomach.

 

The serpent falls out of view, dropped as the dark mass writhes and recoils at the creature’s approach. The vision fixates on the boar’s foul, muscular face and wrinkled skin, eyes piercing and annihilating. Abject horror steals your breath and agonizing panic numbs your thoughts as the worm-thing, your perspective, violently draws backwards.

 

The jade palace is cast away and fades as the tentacled entity flies backwards with smooth yet gut wrenching force and the image of the beast is quickly lost but its milky starlight stare lingers, embedded in your mind. It still sees you, into you, through you. Dread sinks in as the dreamy mists slide in and envelop your vision, cast out into a starry abyss.

 

You cannot forget its gaze, penetrated by its dead starlight eyes.

 

 

 

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Solace – A particular Seer – Woke amidst the night inside the of walls of Haelun’or. He let out a strange and deep gasp as his sight was clouded from the truth and instead replaced by the horrors and strange happenings of the foreign lands and only strangely familiar creature.  Soon did the vision end and with it sweat fell from his forehead before he’d stand and rather immediately begin off on a walk. Although his attempts were likely futile, he’d try to simply walk off whatever horrible and strange vision he had been rudely awoken to.
Strangeness lurks at every corner of this realm.” He’d murmur as he continued on his nightly walk.

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The Wick jolted up from her sheets in a cold sweat as the vision came to an abrupt end. She breathed heavily, shuddering as she tried to shake it off. A hand reached out to the side, fumbling over her nightstand for her darkened lenses, too opaque to see through. Shaking hands pushed them onto her face, and she left her bed, making her way through the small bedroom in her Helenian home to the balcony. She breathed deeply, taking the cool, humid air of the city into her lungs as she tried to ground herself. Once comforting to the young woman, the starry sky overhead now felt like an encroaching enemy.

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A lone seeress would be slumbering within her chambers, the silk sheets tossed and turned from the dreams and nightmares that plagued her. However, this particular night, her face was contorted with the sights, her hands grasping at bundled fabric to clench and grip. Moments pass before Vritra jolts up from her pillow, her hands gripping around her throat, searching and clawing at whatever restrained her scream. However, she found nothing, allowing a harrowing, banshee-like wail to break free. Her blindfolded gaze searched for someone, for something, yet she found only darkness and a lone candle left lit. The smoke that came from the wick danced and shaped itself in a slithering S. “What else is to come...”

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