| THE DRAGON DREAMT |

[hotbox_monk 1021]

 

 

 

“A tale as old as time,

There is One who must rise,

Battle he must for the truth in a world full of lies,

Beneath the realm of lost souls, 

As it is above damnations blight,

For there is one who knows,

That they all must die,

Alas a tale as old as time,

Fret or nay fret the ode of the nine.”  

 

 

 

It was the fifth day of The Grand Harvest and Kassian finally neared the end of his pilgrimage to the First Thinking Tree, or what had remained.  The once sacred site of thought had now been desecrated and it had broken something within the youthful elf for, but only a short time.  For, it was within his means to tidy the mountain top with what rations he had left to endure his time there.  For what had been to the rest of the world an entire year-  it had merely felt like weeks to the young Kassian as he had chosen to reside upon the mountain until he had come to any sort of conclusion about his fate in this trifling time.  During this year the would-be intrepid herald of the great drake found himself sitting beneath the tree with closed eyes and splayed palms ‘pon lap.  Within his mind did he bide his time and for only, but a few hours a day he would allow himself to gaze upon the realm his father had wrought.  Hours turned into days which turned into weeks and then unto months and then on the fourth day of the Grand Harvest;  Kassian had a dream.  

 

Stood across the ravine was a figure-  the way a crow flies, Kassian figured this was too far of a distance to dare crossing within.  He looked to his left and then he looked to his right as a paralysing feeling crept along his back.  He turned cold-  Cold as ice.  Colder.  Though, he was not frightened, but instead this frigid feeling made him wish to look upon the figure which gazed back with a certain malevolence which struck fear into the very heart of Kassian.  .  .  A wrenching twist was felt in his gut as he dropped to his knees with a gaping maw.  .  .  The ravine closed and like a whirlwind the man appeared standing over him with a reflection that bore his own.  “Who are you?”  Kassian questioned.

“I am you.”  He who bore his own face replied.

 

Two wings splayed from each end of his back, one wrought bone and the other an amalgamation of viscera.  He, himself raised a blade which looked as if it had been born of the night sky and breathed upon by Azdromoth himself as its stygian surface boasted ribbons of radiant hues;  a white he had never before seen-  so pure and incandescent.  But with that fleeting thought, that same blade crashing down upon the elf’s shoulder and in its wake the scene changed to an infernal realm with burning trees and charred corpses-  oblivion it was.  

 

The panic was quick to overcome the elf-  who’s dream had swiftly turned to a nightmare.  Within moments he awoke still atop the same mountain he had slumbered upon.  He returned home on the fifth of The Grand Harvest, the very next day.  When he arrived at the inner sanctum of the dragonkin he looked to them and found no resemblance to their former selves, but instead a dragon they had now become.  He did not speak and instead lowered his head as he simply laid down on his bunk with a sigh.  “Is it my death that is my Asioth?  Is my end to be brought upon by my own hand?”  He worriedly whispered to himself as he stared at the ceiling.  Only time would tell what the fates had lain out for Kassian, but if his father was the King, then he was to be a Prince of Dragons and should his dream be as he believed it to be, then he would not find a rival other than his own ambitions.  .  .  “Tread with thought.”  The nephilim, Balthazar’s voice, echoed within his head before he closed his eyes-  Falling to sleep, but this time without the company of dreams.

 

(Haven't posted in a while-  thought I'd introduce a character and do some fun writing while i was true detective :) -  enjoy if yaunt <3





 

[kindEmperor 1074]

A maddened creature with a heart of fire and scales like stone remained lifeless and cold. - To the breath as it slumbered in the lands of sprinkling ash and fire. The thing would rise rigid and old, its claws drove deep into the earth digging with thought and wonder, before it arose with a drawled tone it burst into a resounding eruption of cruel laughter, clawing at a wall for what it dreamt, art was portrayed as it painted onto the black wall glittering it with embers.

 

[_Sug 2572]

 

Within an armchair did a certain drake brood, his right hand pinching his chin in thought with index and thumb as a fire roared within the hearth of its castle. The creature pondered upon how his son was coming along, for he had seen him grow from but a young boy, enduring the trials and tribulations he once did Oh so long ago. Its reptilian eyes watched upon the flame, perhaps in a trance or daydream, or perhaps in a dream itself. For it was not worry nor fear which dwelled within the inner flame of the creature over his son, it was a confidence, an understanding of the man Kassian was becoming and seeking to make of himself. It missed that drive, that passion to continue, but alas he was happy for his youngest. Kassian had begun a journey towards that which he himself had become, hopefully in time, he would see his son born anew, perhaps..., and thus he stood with a lumbering frame and a grunt from his person to send a message to an old and loved friend who oversaw his sons development into a servant of the Titan.

 

[Jentos 6931]

Dreams. 

 

They were a particular gift to their people. 

 

Dreaming - as their maker had. 

 

And perhaps, one wondered - their maker dreamt as its Maker did. 

 

Did the stream of dreams drift from the slumber of the solitary God ? 

 

Then he woke.