Residue of Sorrow

(ooc: Wow, that's one hell of a dream!)

It takes Arren a moment to realize that he is dreaming as the parade of familiar faces speak.

Carmelo, Emma, Bryn…

Wait. Is that ummi? So does that mean she's talking to…?

He quickly turns around because, as much as he despises that person, he cannot help wanting to see his face. Unfortunately, the motion is met with the sudden pain of a ceramic bowl smashing straight into him. His last thought before everything fades to black is that his mother is really strong, and that he has never seen her that angry before.

But waking up is not the end of it, apparently. Mydri appears next. But no. That braid is unmistakable. That is not Midry. But, who is Miyako talking about...?

Waking up and leaving Lory's Hostelry brings him a brief sense of peace, but not for long. That voice again, when he was not even seeking it this time. Arren turns back, and is very surprised that the honeyed voice has finally decided to show herself.

A very tall woman — the tallest Arren has ever seen — stands before him. Her hair is black streaked with white, though not with age. She appears neither young nor old, but strangely timeless. Her hair is impossibly long as well, soft waves falling all the way to her ankles. It moves constantly, as though stirred by some invisible breeze that touches nothing else but her.

The woman is dressed in black, though not a flat or lifeless black. The fabric catches hints of deep green, purple, and silver beneath the shifting light. The dress clings tightly around her chest before flowing freely from the waist down, moving together with that same impossible breeze, and Arren cannot quite tell what it is made of. Are those raven feathers? Wisps of smoke? Or shifting shadows given form?

Arren watches her silently for a moment before finally meeting her grey eyes.

"And yet, you told me to think about flowers. Lots of flowers," he says. "Did you truly not expect I would summon her?"

He exhales and shrugs faintly. What does he really have to lose by speaking to this woman? This entity. This… whatever she is. Perhaps, at the very least, he might finally learn something about the meaning behind these dream visits.

"Fine," he says at last. "Let's talk."

Arren does not waste time asking who she — or her sister, for that matter — is. She will either tell him, or he will learn it himself eventually. For now, he simply wants to hear what she has to say.

Bryn smiles, leaning back just enough to look relaxed, though his eyes remain entirely locked on the bartender.

["I am afraid that I have nothing to show you at the moment. A big part of my job is locating the items that are wanted, rather than peddling the wares I have. In fact, I'm glad you brought up military corruption"], he says softly. ["Because an honest soldier is hard to buy, but a corrupt one is an open door. I’m currently tracking down some unique Meyen items. Firearms. Rare pieces so I am told. It’s a risky commodity, but that just increases the price"].

He leans back in and narrows his eyes, as if sizing up the owner. ["But enough of me. I got the feeling when I entered I interrupted something between you and that chap who left. Was that just regular tavern complaints, or something more interesting?"].

The Elf looks at Bryn inquisitively for a moment. ["Private matters."] He finally answers, clearly not intending to expand on the matter.

He goes silent for a bit, but remains seated by Bryn. ["Firearms, huh?"] He eventually speaks. ["I've heard you can find the metal casings if you try, but without the heart of it, it's no more deadly than a rock. That black powder the Meyens use. I wonder, do they have something over there that does not exist on Dite, or has it not been discovered here because our reliance on magic, even though it is as scarce as it is, made us neglect other research fields?

["But the study of magic does deal with unique ingredients, so would this not have been discovered at some point as a byproduct? They guard it well, but they have so much of it. Whatever it's made of can't be so exotic to them. Either it's something that's missing here, as magic does not exist in their land, or it's something so ridiculous nobody would think of it. Something like... I don't know... charcoal maybe, and... something completely random. A bird's excertments. Sorry, I must be spoiling your drink."]

He pauses for a bit, perhaps listening to anything Bryn has to say. ["You should be careful, though. The Meyens don't take well to people sniffing around their secrets. Especially not Elves with skin as pale as ours."]

"I did also tell you that it's far too colourful," the woman pretends innocent. "Besides, I do like flowers. Some of them, anyway. It's rather unfortunate that my sister claimed them all to herself. Oh, but look at that!" She raises a strand of hair on her hand, then looks down to her dress. "You have quite the taste, Arren. It is not what I expected, but I think I like it. I might just keep this appearance for a while. The dress, absolutely. Marvellous. Are you sure you're a soldier and not some kind of dressmaker?"

She sits down on the grass, patting the blades next to her in a gesture to invite Arren to her side. "No need to stand over there like a statue. I told you before, I don't like statues. They just... stand there. Lifeless. Incredibly boring." She waits for Arren to sit, staring at the night sky. They're clear, but strangely devoid of any stars. Even stranger considering how Arren sees colour just fine here. But then again, this is a dream. Of some sort.

"Tell me," she says once Arren is seated, even if it's not right by her side. "If you did already speak to my sister, what did she look like? It has been... pretty long, since I last spoke with her. Even after speaking to you, she did not come to speak with me directly. Is she old and withered yet? No, wait. Don't answer that. I'm sure she doesn't. She's probably all 'eternal youth', 'flowers in my hair' and 'did you notice how great I smell? It's lavender'. But hey, she doesn't have this dress, does she? No she doesn't. And plenty of other things she doesn't have. Things that I do."

The woman turns to look at Arren. "But toys aren't interesting. People are. That's why you're here. I didn't plan to, at first, you know? But I took interest once I started watching. You're interesting, and I like that. I also expect the path you're on to get more interesting soon. Unfoooortunately, I'm rather impatient, and you keep steering off to boring matters. I mean I get it, actually saving someone for once must have felt great! The crazy Elf is dead! The Gnome is safe! The damsel in distress is relieved to be reunited with him, since now she doesn't have his blood on her hands! It is unfortunate that she doesn't share the same feelings he does. BO-RING. What, am I to be interested in every cat that gets taken off a tree it climbed and now fears descending?"

She clears her throat, mostly for an excuse to pause and change rhythm, it seems. "So, I was thinking, maybe I should help you out a little? You know, just a little push, a nudge in the right direction. However, it is rather tragic, but I'm not allowed to interfere directly." She pauses. "Well, clearly, I've bent this rule already, but there's only so much a rule can be bent before it can be broken." She smiles, a deviously charming smile. "Of course, it wouldn't be breaking any laws if you were to seek my help on your own. So I may not be able to push you against your will, but if you ask for some support, wouldn't it be rude to decline? So, what will it be? Power, knowledge? Love? What is it that your heart desires most?"