08-26-2008, 01:09 AM
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The dream was always the same. He would be in the city, and speaking to someone else. Usually, it was himself. Though dream-Ahren had red hair, and did not look as old as he did now. They spoke about all sorts of things, and sometimes they manipulated the world around them. Dream-Ahren had shown his companion that he could control the landscape, and set it to burn several times. He had called down the rain and blocked out the stars, and each time, Ahren accepted this as naturally as he had the other visions.
Though the dream was always the same, the variables changed. This time, dream-Ahren was gone. In his place was a dark shadow, a red-eyed wolf that Ahren knew all too well. He bristled and backed against the wall, but the figure kept on coming. It never spoke, but Ahren knew his intent. He had known his intent since the day he had been forced from Chimera, bleeding and terrified that he had nothing left and nowhere else to go. Then the figure reached out and grabbed his shoulder, digging his claws into it, and spoke. Ahren? Can you hear me?
With a jerk, the blonde was awake and scrambling to his feet. He swung out with one hand, claws reaching for something, anything, and the other found the wall behind him. It was there that he managed to get to his feet, however unsteadily, and lock his fever-bright eyes on the stranger (though to Ahren, it was Damian, as clear as day). “Get away from me,” he growled, voice thick and raspy. “Get the fuck away from me!” He screamed, baring his teeth.
The dream was always the same. He would be in the city, and speaking to someone else. Usually, it was himself. Though dream-Ahren had red hair, and did not look as old as he did now. They spoke about all sorts of things, and sometimes they manipulated the world around them. Dream-Ahren had shown his companion that he could control the landscape, and set it to burn several times. He had called down the rain and blocked out the stars, and each time, Ahren accepted this as naturally as he had the other visions.
Though the dream was always the same, the variables changed. This time, dream-Ahren was gone. In his place was a dark shadow, a red-eyed wolf that Ahren knew all too well. He bristled and backed against the wall, but the figure kept on coming. It never spoke, but Ahren knew his intent. He had known his intent since the day he had been forced from Chimera, bleeding and terrified that he had nothing left and nowhere else to go. Then the figure reached out and grabbed his shoulder, digging his claws into it, and spoke. Ahren? Can you hear me?
With a jerk, the blonde was awake and scrambling to his feet. He swung out with one hand, claws reaching for something, anything, and the other found the wall behind him. It was there that he managed to get to his feet, however unsteadily, and lock his fever-bright eyes on the stranger (though to Ahren, it was Damian, as clear as day). “Get away from me,” he growled, voice thick and raspy. “Get the fuck away from me!” He screamed, baring his teeth.