[Dohalim/Zhongli] You're standing next to me...

[ilqaras]

[it started out as vague dreams of what seemed to be a lifetime ago. something so foreign and yet familiar. even in his dreams, he can almost feel it, taste it, smell it. like warm stone on a summer’s day, like a strong embrace holding him steady. and in every dream, he sees the same person with golden eyes and a soft smile and all he can feel is a warm fondness for them.

who is he, Dohalim would ask himself, as he would reach out to him.

and that point is when his dream would turn into a nightmare; in a flash, all he can see is carnage, and that person who he’d felt that fondness for would look at him with a frenzied fire in those golden pools, his face contorted into what seems to be pure, unadulterated rage. why… he can feel the fear piercing his heart, along with a certain pain he can’t quite put his finger on, that he has to watch this man fall into his wrath and despair.

”My apologies…” he remembers saying, before he would wake up with a start, brow damp with sweat as he would sit up in his bed. at first, that dream wasn’t nearly as frequent, but now, it seems like it’s occurring every night. what does it mean? who is that man in his dreams?

what happened?

come morning, however, that dream becomes a passing thought, as it usually does, as he starts his day. it’s only a dream; he doesn’t need to dwell on it.

there had been reports of a sudden spike of astral energy in Traslida Highway, one that Dohalim had taken upon himself to investigate (much to the chagrin of his guardsmen). if it has anything to do with earth astral energy, who better than the lord whose affinity of that very element? if anything goes wrong, he would be the most capable of containing it, at least. what mattered most is that the citizens of his realm are safe.

but it’s strange, as he walks out of Viscint, that he doesn’t need to be told where the anomaly is. he can… almost hear a quiet whisper, indiscernible in its words, but pulling him towards where he needs to go. it’s as if he’s lost all autonomy of his body, falling into a sort of trance, but the pull doesn’t feel malicious in its intent. in fact, it feels almost as familiar as the feeling in his dreams; he has to wonder why that is.

as he approaches the new rock formation in the Tietal Plains, Dohalim strains to listen to guardsman speaking to him; something about how it had appeared overnight, and that they had deployed a small platoon to stop anyone from entering it. but the whispers nearly drown him out, beckoning Dohalim to walk through the portal. it’s reckless, he knows, to walk into something without even an inkling of what awaits on the other side, but nothing in him tells him to stop as he steps forward towards the barrier. he holds a hand up, as if to feel the energy radiating off it, and before anyone could pull him back, Dohalim steps forward. he hears one of the guards call out his name, only for it to be muted once he’s on the other side.

just where is he…?]

Comments

[geocash]

[My apologies. it's the only thing that's echoed here, through the ages. a mournful, aching apology, given in a moment of responsibility and desperation. it's the only thing he can still cling to. by now, in the silent solitude of his earthen prison, he's forgotten nearly all else. wrath and rage, relief and pain. from time to time, he wakes to them, to the deep, mournful emptiness in his chest. there wasn't enough of him yet, not nearly enough time to wear at the edges. the body he had once called his own continues to lie dormant and immobile, resistant to the annals of time and yet still unsuitable for habitation.

at first, he thinks it must be the same. empty, sightless mourning, awaiting a face he's forgotten and a soul he never will. there hadn't been time, then. hadn't been the luxury of discovery in order to stop the rampant deterioration. water upon stone, until all he had been was overshadowed by all he should never be. when he calls out, there is no expectation. he's more alive than he has been in unknown eras, and yet... there is fear. if 'he' doesn't return, then what? then what...? will it all start over? he can feel again, just enough. the body-- no. perhaps it is his own soul that is nearly deserving of it again. but without him, what's the point?

inside the barrier is barely warm enough to keep from chilling the man. luminescent vines and the occasional glimmering rock provide a dim light, barely enough to follow the path. they crawl haphazardly over half-destroyed pillars and intricately carved walls alike, twisting upward until they flicker like pyrelight. despite all worries to the contrary, this place - shaped like an open, welcoming palace though it is - is empty. footsteps echo into the dampening embrace of foliage, and the paths are clear, if dim.

Please. it's a hoarse whisper, beckoning him through the halls. Find me. Find me. I'm sorry. --iss you. hope. fear. regret. they're chief among the emotions that hang in the air here, and if he waits too long, perhaps he'll see... something.

a shade of something, someone. pacing halls and pausing, head in hands, disappearing as their shoulders start to shake. again, intermittently, throughout the initial room. clearer near its back, thin and dim closer to Dohalim, never lasting more than a few seconds.]