Log:To Take Back Sleep

The Madness of David Flyte 2020/02/09 Dialydd Grimm Charity 21

You're not certain why you've decided to tempt Fate like this, but maybe it's just cause you're so damned tired. You called that number this witchhunter Charity left for you when you all talked outside of Copper Skeins. The one she left for when you 'realized the best thing ye ken do fur yuir fellow man is just let me end it for ye.'

So, here you are in a wooded field in Green Acres, a light spring breeze in the air, the sun playing hide and seek with the clouds, waiting for the Chosen One.

Grimm isn't about to lay down and die just yet. But she is so very tired of having to rely on others for help, grateful as she is. She hates imposing. Her protective field is around her, just in case, but she figures by arranging a talk, she can preempt the dark fate Connor foresaw.

Grimm thinks. o O (Connor and Charity are wrong. No way I'm laying down until there's no other choice.)

It's a valiant effort on the Chosen One's part but Charity manages to step on twig as she closes in from behind you. You whirl to face her when she's still well out of sword range. A sword range made possible by her holding that very sharp looking claymore in a ready position to strike even as she stops.

"Well, enow, tisn't this a fine kettle o'fish. Here I was hoping to make it a quick sharp surprise for ye, Miss Grimm." She smiles slightly as she speaks but her eyes don't reflect the smile, just a grim determination and, perhaps, sadness.

Grimm frowns at Charity. "So I ask you out to talk, and you planned to kill me while my back was turned?" she says as she turns around. "Not much gets by me."

"I hunt monsters tha threaten the lives and souls of humanity, lass. I don fight fair iffen I don have to, ye ken?" Charity says as she begins to slowly circle to the right, her gaze tracking your every movement. "Just close your eyes and think of the better place yuir self-sacrifce will reserve fur ye. I promise to be swift and sure."

"And I don't kill people," Grimm glowers at Charity. "But if you try and attack, I -will- stop you," she warns. Her head tracks Charity, even though she doesn't need to see her to feel her presence.

"Iffen ye didn't seek release from yuir possession, lass, why, hmm, call me?" she asks quickly followed by "And why is called 'calloing someone'. It's not like yuir shiuting out their name now, tis it?"

"Because...because it just is!" Grimm never thought to question why. "It's like calling out to them over any distance. And I called you to reason with you because time was running out before our clash. I'm not out of options. Not yet."

"I'm not beyond reasonin', lass. But the fact is yuir losin' control. And when ye do, innocents will pay in blood fur your fear. I ken it's hard to give up, but, sometimes, tis the best choice."

She continues to circle you, not moving any closer. You get the impression she's taking your measure. Probably mystically as well. She's fairly well cloaked in various spells: actively defensice, passively offensive, and certainly a lot of detections going on.

Gabrielle hesitates, thinking about what she accidentally did to Porter while he was just trying to help, back when they first met. What her powers did while she wasn't in control anymore. All that blood...

You swear you can hear someone, someone you cannot see or perceive in any way, saying in a deep voiced, vaguely Scandnavian accent, "Eissa wept! I step away for one moment..."

You also note that some of the vines on nearby trees (it is Virginia, vines everywhere) seems to be moving on their own. And did that crabapple tree just blink a few apples at you. Grimm's attentions are drawn tot he tree and the deep, familiar voice. "What...?" Is her mind playing tricks again? It's getting harder to tell what's real.

The voice and the tree are in separate locations. Or rather, the voice did not come from the directoin of the tree.

Charity, on the other hand, notes your attention shifting from her. She launches an attack as she stutter steps like ghosts do in bad horror movies over to you, swinging her blade to connect with you as she approaches!

The blow fails to connect, but a few strands of your hair are parted from you. "No, not backstabbing. I tried that first," muses Charity as she falls into a defensive posture, sword between the two of you.

"I told you, I'm not here to fight. And I'm no there to die," Gabrielle warns angrily. The vines on the trees wave a little move in the non-wind as the sky darkens slightly.

"Remember what we talked about, sera Grimm. I know it's not easy for you, but, cha, 'happy thoughts'" murmurs the deep voice out of the air. "As for you," it then adds in darker tone. There is a swishing sound and then an almost metallic scream.

"But I am here to fight, lass! To fight for the future of humanity no mind the cost!" grits Charity right back at Grimm.

Grimm is confused by the tree even further. Happy thoughts. Mal being gone. Saying he thought she didn't love him anymore. Happy thoughts. The terrible things she said to people trying to help her. "I...I -can't- think happy thoughts!" she calls back, holding her head for a moment. "I don't want to hurt anyone!"

The Chosen One's lip twists into a snarl as she says, "Ye cannae harm anyone when your dead, lass!" She unleashes a two handed blow meant to take off your head.

Which is blocked from hitting you, somehow, as the deep, familiar voice, says, "Sera Grimm, could you please attack the tree?"

"The...tree?" Grimm asks incredulously.

The scene seems to take on a hazy quality as if you are viewing everything through a light fog. Most things seem the same but four things stand out as different.

First, the tree is a slime covered pillar of stone with many alien runes carved on it. It does have gemstone 'eyes' that glow with a feral green light. Second, the waving vines in the trees are N'zrathol's tentacles, faint, not quite 'solid' looking. Three, Charity is a ragged, shrouded parody of human being, all bones and sinew, who eyes glow with a sickening red light like N'zrathol's eyes. It holds an axe not a claymore. And last, Dialydd is the one blocking the axe with a staff seemingly made of moonlight.

A mere glance at this males face reveals him to beyond even the most handsome of men. There is some indefinable, almost dream-like quality that takes his looks out of the realm of mortal flesh and into the supernal. The youth, for he seems to be a late teen, has flawless cafe au lait brown skin that almost begs to be touched. His partially braided mane of raven black hair hangs down his back in soft waves to end at mid back with long bangs over his forehead that do not obstruct his eyes. Those cats eyes are slit-pupiled and a vibrant deep violet; one might call his eyes jewel-like in their brilliance and clarity. His facial features are refined looking without being the slightest bit feminine. He possesses high cheekbones, a noble nose and brow, a strong jawline, and his teeth, when he smiles, are pearl-like in whiteness. And he is very tall, standing close to 2.1m (just shy of 6 ft 11 in). He seems graceful even when standing still from the top of his head to the tips of his long slender six fingered Hands.

The male is now only in a kilt that sparkles like all the night sky is contained within and carries a silvery staff of moonliight in the crook of one arm. His skin is a flawless smooth cafe au lait without any hair at all below his head that can be seen. His broad shoulders taper down in a V to a trim waist for a male his height. He is not overly muscled but his trim build is a masterwork of aesthetic appeal, neither too muscled nor too thin. He even has an eight pack. Lightly glowing violet 'spots' twine over his forehead, down his neck to his chest and back, then down al his limbs as well as under the kilt. IN all, he has an Adonis-like form. The only jewelry he wears is the silvery bracer with the cerulean traceries.

He seems attentive to his surroundings with a gentle Mona Lisa-like half-smile nearly always on his very kissable looking lips. He does not, however, readily meet peoples eyes and courteously glances away if he makes eye contact.

The veil is lifted from Grimm's eyes and mind. She turns towards the pillar and slashes her hand towards it. An arc of shadow flies towards the pillar.

The shadow slices against the pillar, only chipping off a small portion of it. There's a metallic scream after the blow is dealt. "W-what is that? What's happening?" Grimm stammers.

"We are in your dreams, sera Grimm. You invited me in to see why you cannot sleep...excuse me," stammers out Dialydd as he fights with the nightmare Chosen. He fights well, but defensively it seems while the nightmare is all attack. Fortunately, his defense holds.

The tree screams that metallic scream as N'zrathol tentacles writhe on the edges of the drean. You can feel the pillar exerting an alien pressure on your mind, trying to trap you back into the nightmare.

Grimm starts to feel the illusion trying to reassert itself. Now that her eyes have been opened, she fights to keep them that way and see the nightmare for what it is. While you are fighitng off the will of the pillar (and how can a piece of rock have a will in any case) Dialydd fights for his life against the nightmare Chosen. She seems to have the upper hand, but once again, Dialydd manages to block the blow of her axe. He's good, but she's better you think.

And you turn to attack again!

Grimm raises both hands towards the pillar and focuses all of her energy into one blast to try and break it down.

The pillar is hit by the powerful wave of darkness which seems to sink into the stone...then tear it apart from within. The enruned pillar bursts from the inside as the shadows find every flaw, every crack and rip it asunder. Pieces of slime covered stone are thrown about the fields. Only a small piece remains upright with one red eyes held aloft by the twisted skeletone of some poor soul who was trapped inside the pillar. And even this then topples with a slow leaden thud, crushing the skeleton and the eye into dust.

N'zrathol's tentacles writhe as if they are a non-verbal shout then it's as if a blackout shade is drawn between it and this field.

You hear a sloft sighing sound from behind you where Dialydd and the nightmare Chosen are fighting.

With the horrifying pillar destroyed, Grimm whips around to try and help Dialydd. "I got the pillar! I think!"

You see a handful of silvery, rainbow hinted, dust slide from Dialydd's grip. It fades into nothingness before hitting the ground. A tear rolls down the alien youth handsome face as he says, "Yes, I rather think you did, sera Grimm," as he watches the last of the dust disappear.

Grimm blinks at the silver, multi-hued dust and the tear running down Dialydd's cheek. Was she deceived? Again? "What's wrong? What happened?" she asks in a panic, preparing to help deal with the nightmare Chosen One.

"You freed the dream wraith from its bondage in the only way one could, sera Grimm. I just mourn the end of its existence. But, it was in pain, tortured by its contact with that excresence."

He takes a deep breath, lets it out, then looks at you again, his eyes wet but no longer full of tears. "What would you like to dream of this night, sera? You are free this night at least. Until we have to fight off another, hmm, nightmare pillar. As good a name as any I suppose."

Not seeing the Chosen One, Gabrielle finally relaxes. A little. She's still worried it's another trick. She walks over to Dialydd slowly. "Dream wraith? I don't know much about those," she says softly and respectfully. She feels tired. Not just physically, but in her very soul. "Can I...can I just dream about cuddling with Malcolm? I miss him so much. He's my safe place," she requests, sadness and longing in her voice.

"Dream wraiths...well, they make up some of the people and animals and places in dreams. Not all. Most come from the dreamer, but some." He smiles gently, his eyes losing their sadness.

"And, of course you may dream of your Special Agent, sera Grimm. How could I deny it?" He then grins, a look that makes him seem so much more approachable. "Besides, as your safe place, well, happy thoughts, yes?"

He touches his heart then gestures broadly, a stream of rainbow hued yet silvery sand streaming it's wake.

It swirls around you in a gentle massage and, in less than the blink of an eye, you are on a couch watching one of your favorite movies cuddled up to Malcolm. All is well this night as you rest in your love's arms.

Next: Log:Grimm Reality