[hider=Filler]Sleep was not exactly like how Kaite remembered it. Gone was the sensation of having had a conversation with someone he knew in favor of instead a vision. It seemed naturally vivid as if recalling a memory that just happened.

[color=gray]The Spire, slowing in its spin until stilling the flames arched into what could be described as leaves hanging in a fog. A soft ripple cascaded from the tree, pouring a darkness into the sea of stars which were one by one snuffed by the nebulous force. It started as a shade that simply consumed the lights of planet's skies until washing over the surrounding fleets in the blink of an eye.
It was a sea.
A vast ocean of oppressive nothingness that unfeelingly held the tons of burning steel and polymer. To escape the dredge was to so simply cease to exist, as the depth dawned on the human soldier looking on.
More so...it was like being inside an unfathomably massive a beast.

A sound not unlike a voice called out, soft but pervading from all angles. Some senseless tone not meant for how humanity understood the sensation. With it, however, came an understanding like empathy, as if the notion was Kaïte's own. A long planned thought like  a dream or aspiration.

[color=black]"Beckon all dusks"
"Toil for Lalauna"[/color]

Kaïte's eyes open to find himself in a colossal cave with rings of upon rings of spiraling ledges reaching up to a dull light somewhere what felt like miles away. Below, however, a cavernous pit of darkness from where chains emerged. Shapeless black figures with wide, wild eyes bore these chains shackled to every appendage as they trudged up the spiral in lockstep...dragging link after link of their chains out of the darkness.
There was no way to judge how long the chains were or how far down they went, though Kaïte could be certain that the intention was to pull whatever was down there up through the shaft.[/color]

Kaïte awoke once more in the darkness of his box and fought the urge to be sick. The nightmare of his situation was quickly re-realized by the small blinking lights which infrequently illuminated the cramped interior. Aylvic script he hadn't had the time to decipher during his brief time with the floatilla, all drawn in long strokes seemingly by hand. Short phrases repeated themselves along with smeared handprints and scratches, rhyming in a fashion intended to be a mantra or chant of sorts and Kaïte wished he understood them for the hope of gleaning some kind of inspiration for the situation.

Still, he was forced to merely wait and his urge to sleep to pass the time was...rebuked. [/hider]