Was sleep ever the fit full chore for the Brithian. She’d desired to wake up at multiple instances from this nightmare. Though the aide of what alcohol that still lingered in her system kept her dead asleep. And once she was finally released from this spell, she through the furs off with enough force to toss them against the wall. She sat up. Her breath was ragged and panting. And her claws clutched at her muzzle, threatening to punch through flesh. At least it was physically impossible for the majority of her body to sweat, the smell wouldn’t be pleasant.

She stared down at her own underdressed form with pen prick eyes that twitched feverishly. One hand eventually left her muzzle to clutch at her heart, and felt it drumming away. Combined with that, she swore she saw –things- lingering just at the cusps of her vision, fleeing away when she turned to look to them directly. Creatures the size of dogs who’s shape is rarely constant except for the feature of the claws and pinchers of scorpions.

She sat in quiet, staring down to her Hurdy Gurdy. Her mind kept flashing back to the image of [b]Old Man[/b]. Well… old wasn’t the proper description. He was young then, and had enough charm to peek a fancy stronger than a girlish interest. He was likely old now, and approaching the end of his days. Storms, what was his name again. She could of sworn he’s told him before. [color=440e62][b]Valkav[/b][/color]… that’s what it was. Such a strange name.

Still… it was horrible to see him like that. Someone as close as family or dare-say a lover. Pocked of holes and decaying alive. Like he was beaten, strung up, and infected with some sort of plague! But those holes! Those holes! Like something bored an abyss through flesh! Horrid ichor, puss, and… the cat coughed for a moment. Then gasped for air, but felt nothing rushing to her lungs. It felt like something was around her neck. A collar put on too tight. She clutched at it, feverishly, but only managed to scratch at her fur. Her vision was blurring as the shadows felt like they were creeping up on her. Oh she could hear the blades coming. The blades scratching against each other to hone their edges just for her! Her heart had practically taken off, and would have sorn through the sky if a voice hadn’t echoed in her head.

[color=440e62][i]The sands lie to you as it feast.[/i][/color]

By that she stopped, and sat still as if to accept her fate. Her gasps grew shorter and instinctively more depserate. The feeling of suffocation had grown to it’s peak… and faded. She blinked, and all appeared to be normal. Well, normal if you discount the strange creatures that lick at the edges of her peripheral.

She began to wonder to herself, what the hell does that even mean?! More importantly, she realized what she was doing. She was contemplating a dream. A nightmare. Why? And why did it bother her so? She had experienced far worse visual images. Yet this crawled under her skin with a swarm of hissing cockroaches in tow.  Reguardless… it was one hell of a way to start a morning.

She slipped out of the bed, and redressed her bare form. She was partially thankful that she spent some time to clean her clothing before she dropped into the bed during her drunken stupor. They no longer clung to the smell of alcohol from last night, or the grime from the boat ride. The colors were vibrant once again. She straightened her fur and hid the scars on her neck once more.

Once she made her way down stairs, she found the group waiting. And caught Barris’s words just in time.

[color=f7941d]“Hun, I’m feeling empty for a different reason. Shame folks were too drunk last night to think of company,”[/color] She took a sniff. Then paused. She sniffed once more, and looked to the group with a raised brow. She smelled the sharp scent of salt and hormones floating in the air – and the hint of something sour. Fear? [color=f7941d]“Though I’d say, two of y’all had some fun of your own. Didn’t feel like inviting me?”[/color]