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Thoughts from the Dreaming

So, these were handed off to me, told that they were 'fake' memories from The Dreaming, where pale masked people reside(d?). They had to have happened to somebody, though. - I

You remember the last moments of the girl who was reading the book against the tree. As you fastened her neck to the branches, the sound of gagging laid backdrop to the book. It was a pity that all the pages were blank.

You remember seeing the armies facing off against each other, each side knowing it was in the right. The soldier was surprised when you cornered him behind a tent, but more surprised when your lance ran him through.

Such a simple thing to break a bone. It's all a matter of leverage, really. Just apply the right force to the right spot. But oh, the sound it makes... music to your ears.

You remember standing in the shadows, simply watching. A man in a drunken rage is bludgeoning his best friend to death. Now he'll never find out that he was innocent.

You remember fighting the bronze-faced man with the poleaxe. For all his experience and deftness with the weapon, he seemed so surprised that there was a hole in his armor, just above his shoulder. It was a shame he did not last as long as he could have.

You remember the way the champion's bronze mask shattered when struck. He rushed to quickly cover his face that he dropped his spear. The very same spear that finished him.

You remember the musician unable to get his instrument to play. For a good minute in frustration, so bewildered that no sound came out. Fittingly, you ran your barb through his ear.

You remember the child, the way the child clutched at his throat as you held him against the tree. You specifically remember his kicking feet, and wondered if he ever dreamed of flying. For minutes he gagged and choked, clutching at your arms. Tired of his squirming, you broke his right hand. The pain and suffocation brought him to surrender a moment later.

You remember the village of frightened farmers. Stalking between the buildings as they hid among their homes. The parents of the boy you just killed were so petrified by fear that there was almost no joy in killing them. Almost.

You remember how the man clutched his leg as your arrow tore through him. He stumbled to walk as his screams filled the forest. Tracing back the arrow, he found you but ten feet from him, gazing upon his confused expression. The color fled his face as you stood over him and watched.

You remember happening upon two men in white veils, who were watching the battle from afar. Though both surprised to see you, one managed to find a pearl-hilted dagger and plunge it into his chest, fading from your view. The other could not find a solid grip on the blade, so you found it for him. The blood from his chest flowed down the dagger for some time before his breath rattled and ceased.

Created by Janna Oakfellow-Pushee at 04-26-17 01:01 PM
Last Modified by Janna Oakfellow-Pushee at 04-26-17 01:06 PM