Smoke & Mirrors: Cole's Dream
5/11/2006
08:15 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (94% full).
It is currently 20:04 Pacific Time on Thu May 11 2006.
Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 56 degrees Fahrenheit (13 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the west at 14 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.10 and falling, and the relative humidity is 50 percent. The dewpoint is 38 degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius.)
Attic(#1437RA)
Low-ceilinged and dimly lit by a window set low in eastern wall just above the stairs, the attic is permeated with a strong, lingering scent of herbs and the sense of old power. The only furniture is a large bed on the western wall and a full-length mirror on the northern one. A large pile of second-hand sleeping bags, a stack of washed sheets, and a jumble of pillows occupies one corner, usable by the temporary inhabitants of the farmhouse. A single globed light bulb dangling from the peaked ceiling is the only source of light at night.
A steep stairway leads down from here, the door at the bottom opening on the eastern end of the hallway.
Contents:
Cole
NOTE: Current Farmhouse Residents (Updated: Sep 16)
Obvious exits:
STairway
It's one of the nights of the full moon, and Luna's light streams in from the single window in the attack, painting the room in brilliant starkness. Despite this, and at an early hour, Cole is asleep here. He's lying in the only bed in the room, wound up in the sheets and blanket due to a restless patch of sleep. He's been asleep for better than two hours.
The dreams have been peaceful and passionate, emotional and bland, all sorts that would be forgotten soon enough. As the moon's light continues to shine, Luna's journey seems to be more apparent when another dream rises up to the surface like a bubble. The Fianna finds himself walking through the woods of the bawn, heading towards the Grotto, beneath the light of the silvery moon. The sights, the sounds, the smells, they're all as vivid as the mind's eye can make it. Amidst those sounds, the wind cooly blows past. The scents are pretty much regular as well, save for the slight scent of a smokey tinge to the air.
Cole, caught peacefully in the midst of this dream for the moment, walks along in his birthform. The Fianna is relaxed, arms swinging slightly with his brisk stride. He eventually catches the vague scent of smoke on the air. His brow furrows as he sniffs, creating a downward 'v'. He looks around for a moment, and then reaches for the wolf skin to make use of its sharper nose.
The smoke scent grows heavier with the senses of the lupus. Definitely, that is smoke. It smells like wood burning, at first, but there is an unmistakeably metallic, chemical smell to it as well. The clear air is riddled with the scent, getting heavier by the moment. Only now might the Fianna realize that the forest is quite silent, quite still.
Howls-For-Glory's ears perk up as that last realization hits him. Without even thinking about his actions, he lifts his muzzle to the sky. The Galliard gives air to his most emphatic, powerful howl. ~Fire in the woods!~ And then he's moving, trying to track down the scent.
Though the scent is heavy, it's trackable. It gets stronger and stronger in the direction of the city. The galliard's howl rings out brilliantly, but he goes unanswered. At least, that is how it feels, moving towards the source of the fire. Even as he moves, the forest continues to be silent and uncaring as the disaster looms. Before the Fianna gets very far, it seems, the moment he steps out behind a tree he is confronted with a full on inferno. A grey building is engulfed in red flames and black smoke filling the air with a gritty, sticky chemical feel. From the corner, on the side, the remnants of a logo can be seen. A white cross, similar to that of Hilliard's hospital. Just as the Fianna realizes what this building is, the windows on the higher floors blow out, shattering glass down like rain.
The sheer weirdness of the situation washes over the Fianna, even as the waves of somehow unclean heat. The Galliard's ears flip back and his tail tucks as he ducks his head to avoid if possible the glassy rain. Being one of the two Sept members who showed up at the destruction of the hospital, this rings an especially strange note for Howls-for-Glory. He growls out as he tries to approach closer to the hospital and the blazing inferno. ~Is anyone in there?~ He calls out to the building and anyone who might be within, somehow believing his howl will be understood by any inhabitants.
A shard or two pierce into the galliard, but it's hardly anything. More of the larger pieces shatter upon the ground, which shakes with internal explosions of the building. Upon his closer approach, from the corner of his eye, more from the instinct that comes from being in the wolf, is a darkish form and the sense of being watched.
Howls-For-Glory looks behind him once, as if to confirm the fact that the hospital is now, in fact, located somewhere near the Grotto. It's only when he's shaking out the shards of glass that he notices the dark figure. When he does, though, he whirls quickly to face it. His hackles rise, and his lips peel back. ~Who's there?~ The Galliard slinks toward the direction he last perceived the thing to be.
Hardly. The scenery change is complete. Total. So is the power of dreams. Instead, the city stretches out behind the Fianna, Weaver filled and covered in webs like it would be in the Shadow. The dark being never fully comes into view, dissolving the moment he looks directly at it. It reappears again to the side of his peripheral vision, noticeable if only by the way it absorbs any fireglow like a blackhole.
Howls-For-Glory's growling rises in pitch, the Galliard growingly quickly more agitated by his inability to confront this entity. ~This is a dream,~ he asserts, growling. ~You'll be gone when I wake up. So you might as well show me what you are. Coward.~ He keeps the figure to his side, but begins to pace.
The moment the Galliard calls the dream figure out, it fully materializes. The smokey black figure forms into a wolf-like shape, completely devoid of any light coming from it, black tendrils of darkness wafting from it much like the firey smoke billowing up from the burning building. It stands there watching the Fianna pace like a silent sentinel. In place where its eyes should be, silvery, reflecting mirrors reside. The fire is reflected there at least. Then it turns and starts to walk away down the street of the city. Each step it takes leaves a blackish puddle of emphemera that evaporates quick as alcohol into the air.
Howls-For-Glory is quick to follow the materialized creature, his hackles falling very slowly as his anger is replaced by an eery sensation. ~I know you,~ he says. ~You visited my tribemate, Song. A black wolf with mirrors in its eyes. What do you want?~ He moves to try to keep pace, while avoiding those blackened footstep-puddles.
The creature doesn't answer. Nor does it make a sound as it moves. Every step translates into a lack of weight. Before the Fianna realizes, the background has changed again to another spot in the city close to the dirtiest side of town where the Gnawers would be thought to roam. Then again, it shifts, blurs, much like a Garou shifting would, and appears in another spot that looks somewhat like the western side of St. Claire. It shifts again, and appears to be the University with its milling students. And then it changes once more, back to the woods, back to the bawn. Through all these changes the black wolf 'walks', and the Fianna finds himself in following. Eventually the mirror-eyed one slips towards what would be a direction of the caern, wordless as ever.
Howls-For-Glory only grows more uneasy as he's taken on a spiritual tour of all those places. He tries to remember each place as well as he can, for later use. ~What does this mean? Are all these places tainted in some way?~ When the sojourn turns toward the Caern, the Galliard is clearly alarmed. ~Not here. This place is sacred. Do. Not. Go. There!~
Nothing seems to be stopping the black one from continuing on. And so it continues. It does go there. The woods blur, change, and spill in a riot of colors into the caern, where clearly the predominant color is red - if only because it is bathed in the light of a sunset just over the edge of the valley rim. It keeps on walking towards the caern's center. Towards the heart.
At first, the red color everywhere sets the Fianna to growling at the intruder, reminded of the fire. When he focuses, he's only mildly reassured. The sunset, out of place, is spared only a mild glance. The Fianna rushes to place himself in between the creature and the heart of the Caern. ~Stop, now!~ This comes out in a growl. ~Are you Chimera's child, Mirror-Eyes? Are you her messenger?!~ Howls-for-Glory's eyes are wide, his breathing fast as he prepares to make a stand.
Despite being interrupted, the wolf continues to move forward towards the caern like an unstoppable force. It gets closer and closer, and as it does, the creature starts to change forms again. It grows, gathering darkness and light together in its being, assuming an impossibly black Crinos form. Its jaws open, fangs of darkness revealing, yet melting together like strands of cheese being pulled apart.
Howls-For-Glory rises, too, into Crinos. His own fangs are painted red in the setting of the sun. ~I've given you warning. You have one more chance to pull back, before I tear you limb from limb.~ The Fianna brandishes his claws, a bit of slaver dripping from his gaping jaws. ~You won't ruin our home!~
The blackened crinos takes another step forward, and another. As the sun disappears from the rim, it plunges the valley into a dark, cool color. It keeps going though, getting closer and closer. In the large mirrors in its eyes, Howls-For-Glory can see himself. Once more the darkened crinos opens its stringy fanged jaws, and from its muzzle spills black saliva, easily as thin as water. The drool drips onto the ground, where serpents start to form and slither, growing by the inch, enlarging by the moment.
Howls-For-Glory growls once more. ~That's enough!~ He tries to crush the forming serpents beneath his feet, a howl rising from him. ~ENOUGH!~ He lashes out with a taloned hand at the figure.
Claws rip into the crinos, tearing its form and leaving a smokey trail of black where the Fianna's talons follow through. He strikes and connects, and upon his chest open harsh wounds, mirroring that of the crinos'. The black being does not fight him, but the snakes that are crushed dissolve. A pair of serpents that get away bulge upon their heads, horns forming briefly, purplish black like a sea urchin's spikes poking upwards before they too blur up into black crinos forms. Each of them have no eyes, but mirrors in their places, nearly identical to the one from whence they came. It's hard to tell, which is which.
Howls-For-Glory gasps at the pain which tears through him as his claws move rip into the entity. He grits his teeth to push aside the pain. ~Hurt you, hurt myself,~ he growls, more to himself. He tries to move himself to keep the crowd of beings in front of him. ~You're like mirrors. Talk to me, dammit! If you've got a message, tell it to me!~ He tries to maneuver himself between them and the Caern's heart.
The snake-formed pair look to each other, and then to Cole. The originating crinos boils upwards in height, growing bigger and bigger until it is hugely tall, big as a giant. And unlike the first one, the twin black crinos lunge eagerly towards the Fianna and grab ahold of him. Claws of light-absorbing darkness sink into his flesh, not causing pain but a sudden tumult in his emotions. One side of him burns hot, angry, bloodthirsty. His mind is stabbed with the urge to kill. He must survive! He must kill to do so! It mixes with a plunge the other way as he sees the origin crinos twist into a dragon's shape, wings unfurling to block out the sky. The Fianna's heart seems to lose its will to fight the pair of crinos holding him. Is this how it all ends? Is this how it will be?
Howls-For-Glory is terribly torn as the two lesser Crinos hold him in their grip. He alternatingly growls and whimpers as the emotions somersault inside him. When the dragon appears, he howls in abject fear and horror. ~Wyrm!~ Though he feels hopelessness well up in him, he tries to fight against the ones holding him. ~Can't...let..Caern..spoil.~ He tries to rake the claws on his feet down form of one of his captors. ~Let me go!~
The caern grows cold as the dragon blots out the stars. Into his ears, the whispers of low laughter echo like they're far off. The urgency to protect the caern boils up in him, pushed this way and that by the influences warring inside him. His heart pounds so hard that it's overwhelming, drumming in his ears. The Fianna's voice twists from a howling from a crinos throat to a human one as he cries out The dragon comes crashing down, aimed for the caern's heart, closing in on the helpless galliard like a dark blanket of doom.
The world goes white.
The light of Luna shines through the attic window still. It is in the bed upstairs in the attic that the galliard starts awake in. The sheets have tangled quite bindingly, sticking to his limbs because of the cold sheen of sweat upon his body.
Howls-For-Glory thrashes as he feels himself bound, remembering the touch of the loathesome creatures upon him. A yell, half-howl, is torn from him as he strains not to boil into Crinos. The chill of the sweat doesn't help matters of his attitude either, reminding him of the Wyrm-thing's cold embrace. "Fucking Jesus," he says, panting. Sleep ruined for now, he extricates himself slowly from the sheets and makes for the bathroom down the stairs.
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