The dreams had been bad for Eshani Shadeheart, halfing of Calimport. Thoughts she could put out of her head; there's always something to distract yourself with, work, mischief, familiar diversions.
That sickening sound of an uneven cut. Then there's an arm in the fucking grass, blood in my face, warm.
She finds herself in Sayildi's more often. Nice little piece of home there. Though the one rug from Tethyr always bugged her, though less than half a silver's worth in Sarshel would notice.
Like a amateur butcher, strange, she knew his sword was sharper than thaaaat. A high whine shriek, funnily an animal sounding human in pain. Weird reverse there, really makes you thi... Yeah, Konrad would spot that stupid rug.
She remembers the thicker, flowery smoke left back home, balms all senses, she knows. But never thought of asking for here, even in this little Calish speck, safe so far away.
In her sleep, the arm was never clawed, always pale and humanoid, never furred and cruelly sharp. In nightmares, the maimed, crawling form is always boyish and helpless, no bigger than me. The Tethyrian man lost his grip on the squirming thing, she still had his legs. The arc is neat, even sounds sharp. The cut isn't, but then there's an arm in the grass, and a boy shrieking, like an animal.
She doesn't back away in the dreams, never stunned by the wailing, the blood, and strangely always towering over it. What is done to the small former under her, she was trying to be quick and determined, is recalled in what feels like minutes. She goes for a weak point under the boy's THING'S chin. Even then, it isn't easy, thick hide. It wakes her for nights, and she longs for dreamless sleep.
Hell, poppy resin would help with that too, she knows.
For out-of-game events, wrapping up in-game adventures and rumours.
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