Aymah meets Omei!

Aymah was on her merry way hunting spiders, when this happened:


Bend in a damp tunnel (16288) - Luzith's Lair (440)
You see exits leading east and southwest.

L me
She is a stalwart Idreth and stands just over five feet. Of a pale, snowy
complexion, it seems as though she hasn't seen the sun in considerable time.
Faded freckles are splashed across her cheeks and the remainder of a toned, if
somewhat curvy frame. Her hair, a silvery-white, has been cut short to the base
of her nape and trimmed on the sides, the wavy strands allowed to grow only
along the top of her head, culminating in a ruffled fringe shading her forehead.
Ice-blue eyes, framed by rows of silvery lashes, gaze over a straight nose and
pale, plump lips.

(laced tightly at the waist) : a primeval amethyst silken dress

A sudden chill ripples its way down the back of your spine as the feeling of
being followed seems to slither its way into your consciousness.

group
You are following no one.
The following people are in your group:
The following creatures are in your group:
A powerful ina'a stallion#23422

You touch the bell tattoo.

You wrinkle your nose in distaste.


*Removed hunting spam and moving*

Climbing deep into mountains (21719) - Three Widows (425)
Many of the stars are disguised behind looming clouds, tracing their slow paths
across the sphere of the heavens. A tall banner dangles from a thick wooden pole
here, carrying the colors of green, yellow, and white.
You see a single exit leading east.
[HINT]: You can CLIMB up the WALL to head up the mountainside.

A lurid pulse pushes its way throughout your limbs, energizing your movements
for but the briefest of moments as your senses are temporarily overwhelmed by
every sight, sound, and smell around you.

Cold creeps over your fingers, toes, and ears, settling into your extremities.

Your teeth clatter together as the cold takes a sudden, biting edge.

You have emoted: Aymah pauses, glancing around herself. She rubs her hands
briskly along her arms, and sniffs at the air.

A chilling gust sweeps over you, causing a short-lived shiver.

You are now wearing a forest-green, fur-lined velvet cloak.

Cold creeps over your fingers, toes, and ears, settling into your extremities.

You're bombarded by a cacophony of smells as you take in a whiff of the air.
Iron from deep within the mountains below you. Soil that smells so rich, so
earthy, so -alive-. You catch whiffs of the birds flying high above you, the
fresh air twirling tantalizingly through your nostrils. All of this eternally
present to you, but only now realized.

You have emoted: Aymah tugs a forest-green, fur-lined velvet cloak closely about
herself, shivering lightly from the cold. Awkwardly she peers at her hands,
turning the palms upward and then down before her arms loosen at her sides. She
sniffs again, and her eyes turn upward, perhaps in search of something.

Then, just like that, the enhancement of your senses is gone, ripped mercilessly
away.

You rub your hands together, trying to stave off the cold.

"You smelled. You breathed in deep the scents of what is -real-. You -saw-. SEE
ME. This is how I SEE. You.. you can have this, but you must LOOK."

Cold creeps over your fingers, toes, and ears, settling into your extremities.

"I am watching you. Always watching. Around. Peering, scrutinizing, feeling, and
SEEING."

You have emoted: Aymah exhales a breath, her brow wrinkling as she hastily turns
about, pivoting on one foot in search of the source of the words. "Who are you?"
She bursts sharply.

Your teeth clatter together as the cold takes a sudden, biting edge.

A low chuckle pushes into existence just behind your left ear, and for a moment
you swear you can feel someone's warm breath where the chuckle emerged from. "I
am emotion. I am dreams, and reality. I am nightmares and triumph. I am -you-."


You have emoted: Aymah swiftly turns in the direction of the words, most likely
expecting to find someone, or something, with her dhurive held high, poised as
if ready to attack. "Did -you- give me those dreams?!" She demands now, "Did you
make me believe I -had- a life!"

Cold creeps over your fingers, toes, and ears, settling into your extremities.

"Oh CHILD. You -have- a life. You have it right in your hands, curled up in
those teeny tiny fingers of yours," the voice comes, almost nurturing in the way
it presents the words within the back of your mind. "Pull at it. Tug and tear,
stretch it to the point of breaking, and realize that you are the one in charge
of it."


You have emoted: Aymah's lips tremble, possibly from the cold, and still she
moves, crouching slightly like a huntress stalking her prey. "I slept twenty
five years dreaming of my beloved--" She murmurs, her voice taken by the cold
air that causes small puffs to leave her lips. "It was TOO real!" She bursts,
once more shifting on her feet to glance searchingly about.

Your teeth clatter together as the cold takes a sudden, biting edge.

"Too real?" comes the voice. "That is the allure of dreams My darling. If it
didn't feel so real, how would you know it was something you needed to search
for when you awoke?" it challenges. The brisk cold begins to wear upon your body
substantially faster than before, the feeling in your fingertips beginning to
dissipate.

You cease to wield a vicious light brown dhurive.

A chilling gust sweeps over you, causing a short-lived shiver.


You have emoted: Aymah lowers her dhurive, strapping it to her weaponbelt. With
that, she pulls the cloak further onto herself, attempting to keep her hands
from exposure to the cold. "I was trapped in a false life--" She murmurs,
trembling with the cold, "And when I woke there was nothing to search for--
she'd gone and married another!" She pauses, moving with her back against the
cliff as if to protect from the chilling weather. "Is -that- what You do? Keep
dreamers fooled into slumber?"

A chilling gust sweeps over you, causing a short-lived shiver.

The roaring cold begins to creep up your arms and legs, lulling your mind into
unwilling slumber.

You suddenly feel weary and tired.

Unable to stay awake, your eyes slowly slip shut and you fall asleep on the back

An unusually vivid dream swirls through your sleeping mind, and you have the
distinct impression of movement.

Within a warm lodge (53805) - Space Realm (346)
There are no obvious exits.

You are asleep and cannot see anything.
[Source]: Info: Afflictions: None. Cured: asleep (11.583s)

Within a warm lodge (53805) - Space Realm (346)
You stand in the middle of a quiet and cozy cabin bedecked with only the most
basic furniture. A roaring fireplace blazes to life that's been set against the
northern wall - something about it appears to make it the largest thing in the
room by any means of measurement.
There are no obvious exits.

Omei sits upon a ragged couch in the lodge that's been placed near the fireplace,
Her hands lifted to warm the cold appendages.

L omei
She is an Immortal. Tall and slender, She stands at the height of a Human, but
everything about Her screams larger-than-life, Her very form harshly
breathtaking. A shaved head frames Her face, each side shorn clean, while the
mane atop Her crown itself seems to be formed from the stuff of Dreams - a cloud
of moths one moment, writhing tendrils of Nightmare the next. Her skin is a deep
purple, the hue of a forest's vespertine shadows, and Her complexion is dark,
Her angular cheekbones creating sharp planes across a thin face. Sunken eyes
rimmed in kohl-dark earth are a piercing, pure violet, with dilated pupils star-
flecked and fathomless. Her dark, bruise-purple lips are full, bisected by an
intricate tattoo slicing down the middle of her lower labrum and chin to twine
around her neck, unfurling in stunning swoops and slashes across her shoulders,
breast and belly. Inked in a rich, lustruous black, the tattoos scrawl out words
in every language, from common Aetolian to Rajamalan to words and thoughts only
known to the denizens of the Dreamworld. A soft haze hangs over the markings, a
faint purple fog that seems to gather and recede of its own volition - and, as
the mist skims the Goddess's skin, there are whispers, faint and susurrant,
murmuring half-heard prayers of battle and glory and war.

Beckoning to a chair across from Her, Omei, the Nightmare says, "Come child. Sit,
warm yourself."

You have emoted: Aymah watches Omei dubiously for a time, a resistance to the
invitation evident in her expression for a time. Apparently too cold resist,
evident in the trembling to her hands, she approaches, occupying the offered
seat in silence.

"You've something on your mind," Omei notes as She rubs Her hands briskly before
the flames. Her motion elicits a brilliant surge in the voracity of the flames
as they rise higher and dawn a peculiar violet shade that bathes the room in its
warm glow. "Someone, I should say. You are bitter," She remarks.

For a fleeting moment, you forget your name.

You have emoted: Aymah stares at the flames at length, bringing her knees toward
her chest, for her entire form to be swathed in the folds of a forest-green, fur-
lined velvet cloak. For several seconds of silence she considers, her expression
seeming more gloom in the violet shadows. "Xenia." She says simply, one hand
emerging from amidst the fur to draw back through her hair. "She'd waited before
for me, but not now-" She pauses, sharply turning her gaze to regard Omei,
confusion overwhelming her features.

"Dreams are a wonderful thing," Omei muses as She leans back into the couch, a
pensive glint alighting Her countenance. "They may sometimes show you what you
wish for - other times they are nightmares in disguise. Perspective is the key."
She takes in a breath through Her lips that whistles upon Her teeth as She seems
to consider Her next words carefully. "I will not distinguish that for you. No,
you are -strong- child," She encourages, eyes squinting as they carefully
appraise you. "You have every bit in you to learn. To interpret, and -feel-, to
SEE it how it should be."

Slowly, carefully, Omei, the Nightmare says, "Perhaps.. perhaps it was meant
that way."

For a fleeting moment, you forget your name.

Raising a finger, Omei, the Nightmare says, "But no, no no no, you do not want
to hear that. But you must."

You have emoted: Aymah's lips twitch at the corners, but her expression remains
unchanged as she continues to watch Omei. "There was a child in the dream-" she
offers, "There was Xenia, and a girl with red locks--" She stops, her eyes
widening slightly. "How can I know what it all meant? When I woke I felt as much
love for Xenia as when I last remember being alert and..." She shakes her head,
her hand now ruffling the mop of hair shading her eyes. "And I already heard
plenty from... her-" Distaste is evident in her lips, as teeth are momentarily
exposed. "What am I supposed to learn?"

"To interpret by seeing," Omei offers with an outstretched hand. "And feeling,"
She adds, Her other hand joining as both Her palms now face the ceiling.
"Together. You cannot rely on but one. Your mind knows - oh how it knows - but
the message gets muddled in mortal interpretation." She rises from Her seat to
step rather languidly about the small cabin. "In dreams you find symbols,
notions, gestures, each with their own different meanings that may not match
with what your eyes wish you to see alone." She swivels suddenly upon a heel.
"When you hunt, how do you know when to strike?" She asks rather randomly.

In this still, near-dead place, you feel strangely peaceful.

You have emoted: Aymah's eyes follow Omei about the cabin, her form otherwise
still in the seat, limbs pressed together against her body to preserve the heat
from the fire. "I just know," is her answer, "it's... instinct," she offers
further. "Years of hunting will make it ah... come naturally, there's no need to
think or plan, just have to do it."

"YES," Omei gleefully responds as She bursts enthusiastically towards you to
claim a spot on the armrest of the chair you sit upon. "Yes child, precisely -
that is what it is. -That-. You are -SEEING- and -FEELING- all together, but you
call it your instincts," She coos. The Goddess taps Her finger upon the center
of your forehead with a pleased smile. "That is what you must do with your
dreams if you want the answers."

You have emoted: Aymah's eyes are wide as she watches Omei, her head tilting up,
and her mouth hanging slightly open. For a moment her eyes center on the
Goddess' finger, and she awkwardly blinks, shaking off what must have been a
blurry sight. "How?" She queries, "I was taught to put together a dhurive-- to
sharpen the obsidian blades to... find a balanced shaft... and then further to
swing it, to strike..." She halts, briefly pressing her lips together. "Are You
going to teach me?"

"I only teach those that -crave- to learn," Omei almost seems to dismiss as She
rises from the seat She'd just only seconds ago found Herself in. "Not simply
want. Mine feel it in their bones, churning and roiling like a storm that they
must set out to conquer." Scrupulously She observes you, head tilting. "Do you
feel that storm, child? Do you feel it in the pit of your gut?"

In this still, near-dead place, you feel strangely peaceful.

You have emoted: Aymah's head turns toward the fire, her eyes fixating on the
flames. "I've always had dreams," she whispers, her tone one of reminiscence.
"Once all I could dream of was the Great White, there, where the cold never
touched me, until I lost for the first time-- him, he was the wolf in my dreams,
he lurked in silence through the snow, through endless snow." She shakes her
head slightly. "And then I was cold, for the first time in years, I felt a cold
that consumed me--" She halts, inhaling and exhaling into a rather noisy sigh.
"I dream and dream, and... I don't know."

Omei's palms are warm, comfortingly so as She places Her hands over yours, now
kneeling by your side. "With dreams come nightmares, child," She murmurs, and as
the words escape Her lips a palpable chill bursts forth from Her palm that sends
needling spikes down the length of your fingers that seconds later dissipate
away as warmth returns. "You will face both if you are to learn to see from Me
and Mine." The word 'Mine' is possessively pronounced as it lingers upon the air.

You have emoted: Aymah's hand clenches momentarily with the burst of cold,
loosening as the warmth returns to the touch of the Goddess. In silence she
regards Omei for many seconds. "What am I to do?" She asks Her. "I am out,
wishing to change things around me, and I don't know why... is that wrong? Is it.
.. acceptable? Compatible?" She queries further, pausing for a breath, "Will I
wake from these dreams? From the nightmares as well?"

Rebellious surges of intrusive emotion run amok in your head.

"You will not wake from either," Omei instructs, voice low as She juts Her chin
slightly upwards. "You will walk effortlessly betwixt the two. You will see the
merits of each, learn what it is they present to you, and emerge from them
stronger than you ever thought possible." Her lips press into a thin line as She
gazes upon your face, though Her plum-colored eyes seem to peer beyond the
surface skin, muscle, and bone. "Mine are the changers. The dreamers. The
feelers, and the seers. They do not suppress these urges you feel. They've seen
the glimpses in their dreams - with My help - that embracing these ambitions can
bring about, and they work for them."

Almost rather sternly, Omei, the Nightmare says, "No, it is not wrong. It is
acceptable. It is -expected-. But so many disregard it as a result of foolish
anecdotes of what reality is. Reality is what we -say- it is. What we -make- it.
"

For a fleeting moment, you forget your name.

You have emoted: Aymah inhales, appearing to hold her breath as she listens to
Omei's words. When the last are said, she exhales, seeming to come out of a
paralysis of sorts. "It is alright to feel, then?" She inquires of Omei, "To
feel everything that... our hearts urge us to feel?" She pauses, pursing her
lips, "Because I've felt things... many things, out of control feelings and...
so many that I had to find how to temper-- out in the cold, I tempered."

"Feelings are not to be disregarded," Omei affirms as She rises once more to
place a hand upon the couch as She leans against it. "Each has its place, each
has a reason. They are often muddled, yes, but you will learn - just like you
did learning when to strike - to sift them out from the others." A finger taps
thoughtfully upon the top of the couch once, twice, three times as the Nightmare
appears to mull over a thought. "You will join Me," She seems to decide for you.
"And you will speak with one of Mine - Emelle. She will begin to teach you to
see."

Omei, the Nightmare has invited you to join the faithful Congregation of Omei,
the Nightmare and awaits a response.
AGREE if you wish to join the Congregation.
You have joined the faithful Congregation of Omei, the Nightmare.

You have emoted: Aymah slowly nods her head, not seeming to disagree with the
ruling of the Goddess. "I know her, Emelle-" she pauses, remembering. "She was
blind for You-" she stops, "or because of You?" She shakes her head. "I don't
suppose it matters, hm..."

You find yourself talking to the air around you, which seems to be rapidly
cooling. Your surroundings blur and contort, shifting and convulsing as the room
seems to devolve into itself in a frenzied barrage of colors.

[Source]: Affliction: ASLEEP

An unusually vivid dream swirls through your sleeping mind, and you have the
distinct impression of movement.
Climbing deep into mountains (21719) - Three Widows (425)
The fallen snow is lit by bright daylight, casting the pale drifts into
brilliance. A tall banner dangles from a thick wooden pole here, carrying the
colors of green, yellow, and white. A powerful ina'a stallion waits here, horns
sharp and wings tucked against his sides. You see a single exit leading east.

In the darkness of a summer night, the stars twinkle high above you. Their light
casts soft shadows about the small garden in which you stand. The peace of the
evening seems unbroken until something catches your eye. In the distance, a pair
of glowing eyes watches quietly. A deep rumbling laugh grows from a quiet growl
as hundreds of eyes come to join those two, and the night sky dims to starless
oblivion as the creatures descend upon you.

You are sitting on a narrow road that carries on as far as you can see ahead of
you, massaging legs aching from uncountable hours of walking. Though the road
stretches all the way to a tiny pinprick in the bleak horizon, looking behind
offers no hope. The road is elevated high in the air, and a long drop into a
deep swamp awaits you off the sides. Sighing, you clamber to your feet, driven
by some urge to continue walking down the road leading no where, ever cautious
of the sides.

The cold, dry winds pull at your naked body as you stand on a tundra cliff. The
crash of a distant ocean against glaciered shores resonates across the majesty
of the ice fields before you. You watch an armadilleon creep steadily across the
plains, and the beauty of its struggle in the sweeping landscape of slopes,
clouds, and snowy peaks overwhelms you.


Cold creeps over your fingers, toes, and ears, settling into your extremities.

Though you find yourself once more in the bitter cold of the mountainous climate,
you are surprisingly warm from head to toe.

Omei, the Nightmare has bestowed a divine blessing upon you. It will last for 1
days.

You have emoted: Aymah straightens from her place of slumber with a degree of
stiffness. Seating up, she glances to take in the environment. "Thank You."