[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/b3RmLjcyLjE1MjI0Yy5SR2x6WTI5dWRHbHVkV2wwZVEsLC4wAAAAAAA,/gondess-demo.regular.png[/img][/center][hr]
A wandering Dream thrust across Galbar's shifting sky, its aura a piercing memory, an echo of something seen and felt and heard and tasted in the hours before first light. It was a starlight figure, a silhouette of grey. A shroud of passing interest, a mind of unknownable proportions. Divinity.

Though yet unaware and uncaring of the growing tension in the world, Àicheil remained prescient to the shifting attitudes of the vast Dream, the subtle weave. Across its expanse he felt his twin, he knew their workings and he rejoiced in the strength which was granted to their prime creation, their vast Collective Consciousness. Contentment swirled within his mind and it felt as if the Dreaming God had been holding a breath for a very long time, and now he'd released it.

However, this calm could not last it seemed for no sooner had Ѻs-fhìreach made seven circles seven times about the glittering planet, the world began to darken. Àicheil stopped his drifting dance, his observation of the heavens and the earth that was Galbar. Held in place for a frozen moment, he released his hold completely.

Where there had been a form defined a swell of color and starlit black expanded like a stain of ink across the entire sky. He felt, through the Dream in that moment, a great absence, a great fear, pain, relief, suffering, distress, and a myriad of emotions left like cosmic ripples upon the minds of mortals. Àicheil breathed then, without mouth or lung, but with his consciousness, and with each breath his dark body, his grey shroud, and the storm of color held within, covered the planet's skies. Just as edge met expanding edge and all light, but those shifting clouds, was snuffed from the heavens, a dimming began.

He did not resist, he was too tired already, and in a far off place within his mind, he had known this was coming--as he [i]knew[/i] all things. Yet, he did not understand it. Despite this lack, he did not resist. The fading starlit black, limned and suffused with prismatic color and greyish mist lost its substance. Light peered from the heavens and through his vast divine form. A whirling rage crashed against him. It was like a hurricane, like a mind unleashed, like a thoughtless thing railing against a wrongness it knew, but could not be or understand.

The Grand Design.

[center][s][i]Mother|Lifeblood|Father[/i][/s][/center]

A faded vessel, a vanishing presence, a final thought, then nothing. Emptiness. An abyss without limit or direction or intent. Slowing, rising madness. Fear. Anxiety. A heartbeat of thoughts all his own, frantic. He felt, not calm or content, not serene, and yet his thoughts were placid and clear--transparent. It was a strange thing this.

It was a brief disconnection. Oh so brief. So mercifully temporary.

Reaching out, Àicheil's godly vessel stretched out through the endless, formless, thoughtless void. Free of context, free of everything, it made and unmade, harmed and destroyed and created anew. Swirling color. Smells, sights, and sensations. Pain and agony; lust and pleasure. Every experience, every thought, every piece of knowledge--none of it.

An echo. A crystallized rumination, an endless experiential malestrom--ordered, yet so vast that no one could truly grasp such. Then, seeking tendrils of thoughts, prayers, requests, emotions, sights and sounds and scents and sensations. Every single thought of him, then more beside.

A rippling cascade across his newfound realm. A coalescence of thought, a resurgence of identity, an interruption in the endless beauteous dance of past and present and future all. Unmade, but born again.

[center][b]Àicheil|Ѻs-fhìreach|Neo-Àicheil[/b][/center]

A thread of connection true. Remembrance. A tide of feeling. He longed for unity, something once forgotten, now remembered. It overwhelmed him, this Dreaming God. It overtook his mind, it swelled to bursting his emotions, as if he was a cup with limits. He cast out, thoughts drifting like gentle feeling threads against a rift in this, his favored place.

[center][b]Ròineagan[/b][/center]

Overtaken. Numb. Unfeeling. Uncaring, that Dreaming God passed beyond his domain and into the harsh atmosphere, a place of substance. A place which was Antiquity. A word leapt into his mind without reason, but with meaning, as a label. One he did not need, but remembered and held within nonetheless. As he crossed that portal threshold, all the other gods would see was a maelstrom of color. Their senses would tell them far more.

For now, with his entrance, the Dreaming God's gravitous attention, his eyeless gaze, it fell on them all, and permeated the air. He filled the space, without touching it, merely by being. His mind, here, was unrestrained. There were no mortals, there was no need. He did not care. He could not care. Not without an anchor.

The question was, after so much [i]time[/i], did he want one?

[hider=Summary]Àicheil wanders Galbar, gazing across the vast beauty and strangeness of creation. Then, feeling the coming change, he embraces the planet--dissolving his vessel into a swimming ocean of starlit void, prismatic churning color, and a shroud of grey mist which briefly encompasses the entirety of the planet's sky. The Lifeblood proceeds to begin banishing him. He doesn't resist and so after a minute or five, fades out of Galbar and into the void. Disconnected utterly from his twin, Àicheil feels every emotion and thought that makes him up. He becomes a mass without true identity, a mind without purpose or meaning beyond all meanings which exist. He expands, creating, and becoming, his infinite realm, shedding--for timeless millennia--his identity.

Disconnected, and Dreaming, Àicheil experiences his connection to mortality as a connections to the Collective Unconscious, the Subtle Weave. Though he does not press against the Lifeblood's forced exile like the other gods, he does reconnect--on some level--with this his most important creation. Through it he hears thoughts and feelings and prayers. He sees and experiences all dreams and wandering notions--understanding none of it.

Finally, a rift opens in his realm, it is a disturbance, but beyond it he detects others. Though he is perhaps uncaring of such things, a thread of curiousity and remembered familiarity coalesces him back into a single unified mind. He crosses the gap and enters Antiquity, but finds that...perhaps he does not wish to be anchored or unified as he once was.

In short. Àicheil has gone "full eldritch." Who knows if he'll ever truly come back.[/hider]