[WP12] (Rolling Mist) (Transfer from Gaia)

[Kinu]

For Rolling Mist sleep had come amidst restless resettling, his body finding no comfort in any position he placed himself in which was quite uncommon. He rarely had troubled nights. With his back and neck against a large mangrove he finally found the release only sleep could offer and drifted rapidly away. He felt himself moving then. Through time. Through space. To a place in which reason could no longer keep hold. Immediately the Obelisk rose before him like a titan in his path. The symbols, which were stark against its surface, pulsed and glowed as if blessed by the moon to be hypnotic and lulling, their vibrancy so easy to lose oneself in should the gaze linger for long. Realization overtook him late, so transfixed was he by the object before him, that the world surrounding was devoid of color. The green of the trees, gone. The earthy browns, golds, blues.. everything was gone. The land lay flat before him. He was a ghost in a ghost world. A never ending expanse of void. He could see neither sun nor moon, not a star or a cloud for miles and the harder he gazed or tried to find familiar shapes and objects the more distorted and confusing the landscape became. Loneliness enveloped him then as his hooves clicked against the smooth, grey pebbles beneath him and he neither approached nor backed away from the giant object lying in wait. Never out of sight. Demanding his undivided attention. His eyes traveled the length of it, rising ever upwards and towering over him, making him feel so small by comparison, fragile as a newborn and just as ignorant. Approaching it slowly he felt uncertainty seize his heart and for a moment he couldn't shake the panic. Why was he here? He was dreaming, he knew that for certain, but why did it all feel so real. So urgent? This dream had meaning but what that meaning was he could not fathom. Calm yourself. He chided mentally, inhaling a slow, deep breath and closing his eyes. It was only a dream.

As his nose touched the obelisk he felt an overwhelming sense of dizziness seize him, the ground beneath his hooves melting as everything, including himself, fell away from the lonely void. This feeling was one he wasn't used to, almost peaceful and yet so alien as to cause his heart to beat fast. Only when he found himself on solid ground again did he realize that he was falling. But it couldn't have been falling.. One had to land to fall. The confusion gripped him harshly as his mind wrestled to make sense of it all, the familiarity of the swamp lending some solace, nearly convincing him that he must have awoken. The warm light of the fireflies filling his soul with comfort, the beautiful trees tinged with silver from the full moon above and the melodic sound of the cicadas chorus causing him to sigh softly in delight. Until he spotted it. Rising amidst the folds of the swamp, of his home. An omen, an enigma, summoning him once again. His gaze.. he could not tear it from the obelisk and the very world itself seemed to hold its breath as he stared. How long had he been standing there? Every time his eyes met it the world appeared to slow. He could almost hear the cicadas tune slowly, painfully, ceasing with each passing second. Like a drawn out musical note. Though he knew it must realistically be only heartbeats by measure. As the swamp faded back into view he felt himself disconnecting and then suddenly he found his gaze pulled forcefully back until there was nothing but him and the obelisk once again. His heart beat faster within his chest, like a frantic sparrow in the claws of a cat. His mind swimming with visions of color, images of kin he did not know, and places he had never before beheld. Confusing things he simply couldn't understand. Through all of these marvels, these temptations and understandings, he could feel a steady rot growing within his chest and his mind began to reel as a state of panic set in. No. This feeling. It wasn't right. Though the desire to keep his gaze on the obelisk was powerful, and the longing to see more was absolute agony, he could not let it take him. He could not lose himself. Shaking his head violently he reared up and slammed his hooves down upon the soft earth in defiance and in that moment he awoke. His heartbeat still hammering within his chest, his breathing labored and his eyes as wide as the moon he cried out into the night as he awoke, though being mute no sound escaped him. The lingering feeling of sickness festering within him slowly dissipating the longer he remained awake. He could not rationally calm himself no matter what he did or how many times he told himself it was only a dream. The cool night air kissed his face as he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The familiar scents of the swamp easing his fear and the soft flicker of fireflies filling him with a weak sense of calm amidst his unease. As he lay there beneath the mangrove he could feel the lure of the obelisk calling him, seeking him, even in waking. He knew then, as his eyes opened and he sighed worriedly into the darkness, that he would not sleep again tonight.