[center][img]https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/357353496057610242/531937501057777664/sym1A1.png?width=240&height=301[/img][/center] [center]FP: 0 MP: 04[/center] K’nell sat on his throne, his knuckles bent under his chin and his face wearing a concerned look -- plus a smile. His throne pulsed beneath him, as his eyes scanned an unseeable scene. Dreams past and present ran through his mind, but one kept snagging his attention. The ballroom, the dancing, the genuine smiles. His brow furrowed, when he had saw her mind, her seemingly irreparable scars, the dream simply stitched itself together. Nothing in him could have used her memories for anything but a happy dream, his own spirit wouldn’t have allowed it, but why. Was it pity? Doubtful. The Dream God slouched in his throne, pity was not his purpose, nor was it his purpose to entertain or aid, and yet he did and he did not know why. [i]Perplexing[/i]. Could it have been compassion? As impossible as pity, the God shook his head. It was for him, to distract himself, to make himself feel good -- [i]right?[/i] There could be no other explanation, he had a single purpose, no more - no less. It was not his duty to comfort, not his duty to sympathize. “And yet I saw no other option but to do so,” K’nell spoke aloud, the Dreamweavers bouncing around him as if listening. He could not deny the subtle warmth he felt, nor could he deny how disturbed he was now. He sat for a while longer, figuring that perhaps it was an unvirtuous deed as referenced in his encounter with Aelius, “A deed done for selfish pleasure and credit, but not necessarily for altruism.” He pointed at a particularly citrus smelling Weaver, “that’s what it was. [i]Of course[/i]. I have work to do, a lot of work. The distraction was quaint and necessary but I have work to do.” He stood up, “Nothing more - nothing less.” His voice echoed off the walls of the palace ballroom. [center]-- -- -- --[/center] “I’ll call you… Poppler,” The Dreamer announced, a tiny cloudling dancing on her palm. She nodded to herself as the little cloud began to static and pop almost with glee, “Poppler it is.” The small creature whizzed out of her hand and began to spin around her. The Dreamer smiled at the sight, her legs swishing through the overgrown sweet grass of the flatlands. The Afternoon Heliopolis was warm, but just dim enough to paint the scene in an orange glow, and with the red hue of the grass, giving everything a fiery look. In the distance a few stampeding tree herds pummeled across the landscape, while large beings that are best described as a cross between a rhino and a tiger chased after them, huge hippo like maws chomping at their heels. The Dreamer had spent the better half of the day exploring Tendlepog, her winged sandals whisking her to each biome with little effort. She had found the flatlands particularly enjoyable, enough to stop and walk through. A gentle sigh broke through her lips and she looked skyward, she wasn’t tired yet. She looked down at the nest of sweet grass around her and with a gentle flutter she felt her sandals activate, the tiny wings flapping. “Well, Poppler,” She started, “it’s been fun, but-” Suddenly the little cloudling popped and crackled around her before whizzing straight into her hair -- “What! Hey!” The Dreamer shook her head but the cloudling let out a defiant [i]“zzt!”[/i] “Fine,” The Dreamer cracked a toothy grin, “you can come.” Rolling her eyes the mortal suddenly dashed into the sky, her sandals turning her into not much but a blur as she quickly found the clouds above. With little direction she faced west and at blinding speeds, K’nells winged sandals propelled her forward through the sky, a tittering cloudling hiding in her hair. “So since you got a name, maybe I should get one too?” The Dreamer asked Poppler, who did not reply, but kept on tittering and popping. “What do you think it should be?” She pressed on, the earth below her turning into Ashalla’s blue ocean. “Tim?” [i]”zzt."[/i] “Gorius?” [i]”pop pop!?”[/i] “Hermes?” [i]”pop pop pop![/i] “Hermes it is,” The Dreamer -- Hermes -- smiled wide, her grin uncannily similar to one of the gods’ if not much warmer. [hider=summary] K'nell mulls over what feelings are and what he needs to get done. The Dreamer finds a friend and a new name for herself, Hermes. Nothing was spent. [/hider]