[center][h1]ᦓ꠸᥅ꪀꪖ[/h1][/center]

[color=#e1ceff]Strange things were happening. Sirna found this to be the usual state of affairs the world constantly found itself in. Corrupted dream guides running around; incoherent snippets of thought that came from something that was neither god nor mortal; and a new dimensional space brushing up against the Dreamscape. That last one was a fascinating concept. Sirna was fairly certain that the mortals dwelling within it had expired from the waking world, but instead of existing in a dreamless limbo, they lived as they did in life, surrounded by bountiful blessings. They played, they ate, they dreamed – that was how Sirna came to know about the dimension in the first place.

(Admittedly, that was how they came know about most things. Mortals were useful like that.)

Sirna wasn’t much concerned about those things at the moment. They were busy staring at sand. 

Shifting landscapes weren’t unusual in the Dreamscape. Permanence did not exist here and consistency less so. This sand shifted around but it did not fade in and out of existence. Its form was loose but did not become inconsistent.

This was not a product of the Dreamscape.

Sirna, currently a wooden teaspoon resting upon the surface of this sand as it rippled and rolled across the lands of the Dreamscape, could not sense much thought from the sand. It possessed instinct of a kind, and it was certainly a visitor from the waking world, but when Sirna had attempted to find its waking counterpart, they could not. This creature of sand, no matter its origin, seemed to be a permanent resident of the Dreamscape now.

The realisation had been displeasing at first, for Sirna was immediately reminded of the shaman who had attempted to flee the waking world by taking refuge in the Dreamscape. Further observation of the sand quelled that displeasure, however. Even within the boundaries of the Dreamscape, it kept moving, seeking... something. Whatever it was doing, it did not remain idle. And so Sirna had decided to see where it would go and what it would do when it arrived there.

(Perhaps it was searching for a way back to the waking world. Sirna had considered sending it back directly, but the thought of offering a direct answer to any creature’s problem was far more disturbing than tolerating this odd singular consciousness.)[/color]

[b][i]You have been neglecting your duties.[/i][/b]

[color=#e1ceff]Sirna was immediately regretful, in that they should have chosen a form more capable of turning over than a wooden teaspoon. The black thundercloud trailing above them now was an irritating sight.

‘[b]On the contrary[/b],’ said Sirna. ‘[b]Your greed knows no bounds if the moons proved insufficient for you, Patron.[/b]’[/color]

[b][i]You call it greed[/i][/b][color=#e1ceff], rumbled Oblivion. [/color][b][i]I call it sense. How is a singular action sufficient for accomplishing anything?[/i][/b]

[color=#e1ceff]‘[b]You tire me.[/b]’[/color] 

[b][i]And why have you adopted this form? What have you deemed more important than overseeing the spread of oblivion among mortals?[/i][/b]

[color=#e1ceff]There were many things more important than drowning Ashuru in eternal oblivion. If everyone despaired all the time, then it would become their new normal and acceptance would take the reigns. What was oblivion without the light of hope casting its shadow?

Instead of explaining any of this, Sirna said, ‘[b]Sandbathing.[/b]’

Oblivion’s thundercloud sparkled with lightning. Much of what it said next was lost to Sirna, on account of them dismissing its rambling tirade as a waste of their godly faculties. Did the Patron of Oblivion not have better things to do with its time? If it came from beyond the boundaries of whatever made up their reality, surely there was some other Ashuru out there with some other Sirna that it could bother. Why fixate itself here?

The sand had stopped moving.

Before it sat a dream guide – or more precisely, a thing that used to be a dream guide. It still bore the silhouette of a hare, but its skin was that of the void. Wafts of black scentless smoke streamed off its fur-less coat.

It lunged. Upon contact, Sirna’s teaspoon exploded into a fine mist. They were fine, of course. The not-dream guide sunk its paws into the sand, black eyes flashing.

The sand began bubbling. It did not howl, but the stench of misery rose from them both. Some of the sand began clambering up the hare’s paws, up its arms, up its neck. On it went, until the sand coated the entire hare, snuffling the smoke that came off of it.

Oblivion, who had finally ceased its rant when the hare had attacked, spoke up again.[/color]

[b][i]Is that not the work of Nightmares?[/i][/b]

[color=#e1ceff]’[b]It meddles[/b],’ muttered Sirna, now a thin curtain of mist. ‘[b]I am not prone to violence but it was smart to hide itself after interfering with my creation. You Patrons are all the same.[/b]’[/color]

[i][b]And what of the earthly material?[/b][/i]

[color=#e1ceff]‘[b]A mystery. Look.[/b]’

Oblivion looked. The hare was shaking off the sand, spilling grains far and wide. It seemed larger. Its smoke thicker. Somehow, it seemed satisfied. The hare scampered off. Particles of sand began inching in different directions. The larger clumps stayed where they were, unmoving. All of them radiated despondency.

‘[b]They do not wake[/b],’ said Sirna. ‘[b]They cannot, because they are not asleep. They exist only in this realm.[/b]’ Its mist glittered orange. ‘[b]I do not know if that is preferred.[/b]’

The creature... the [i]Nighthare[/i]’s touch on the sand would linger for as long as the sand was trapped within the Dreamscape. A nightmare that couldn’t be woken up from – now [i]that[/i] was a concept that intrigued Sirna. They did not like the idea of mortals sleeping their entire lives away, but perhaps an alternative could be arranged.

Sirna reached for the veil between the Dreamscape and the waking world, and [i]tugged[/i].[/color]

[center]...[/center]

[color=khaki]Night had befallen Gabung, but not all were asleep. By the firelight, a handful of villagers were inscribing their observations the night sky into soft clay. Oyuna was among them, carefully indenting marks in the clay that mirrored the patterns of the flickering lights in the sky. Their fascination had begun when someone had pointed out the shapes that those lights made every night. Now, they studied the night with a fervent passion, pondering over all the meanings that it might hold. Tonight was no different.

Then someone gasped, and Oyuna lifted her head, and everything was a little different after that. She would not expect her fellow villagers to begin giving thanks to the sun for allowing them to see the night sky. She would not expect them to begin resenting the moons for challenging the starlight. In the present moment, there was no way for her to expect any of these things. 

That was alright, though. For in the present moment, she was content to gape in awe at the glimmering winged serpent, silver like cobwebs in the morning dew, slithering in between the stars of the night sky.[/color]

[center]...[/center]

[color=#87CEEB]Pulam hated gathering firewood. It was boring, and it was repetitive, and he didn’t care how many people told him that it was good for “finding inspiration” in the “wilderness”, he would rather be home mixing paints than picking up sticks!

[i]And[/i] it was cold! The sun blazed overhead with mocking cheer, and Pulam was [i]still[/i] shivering in his garments!

‘[b]This is stupid[/b],’ he muttered, bending down to pick up another loose piece of wood. ‘[b]Everything is stupid. The gods are stupid. The sun is stupid. The weather is stupid.[/b]’[/color]

[b][i]Hey now. You’re going to upset someone.[/i][/b]

[color=#87CEEB]Pulam dropped his bundle of sticks. He blinked very hard, blinked again, slapped himself across the face, and then simply stared. Hanging from the branches of the tree in front of him was a red monkey, with the bright yellow head of a bird Pulam had never seen before. Its beak was extraordinarily long.

Impossibly, the beak opened and shaped more words that Pulam had only ever heard another human speak.[/color]

[b][i]Are you going to pick all that up? You’re making a mess.[/i][/b]

[color=#87CEEB]Pulam shrieked.[/color]

[center]...[/center]

[color=gold]In a small community built on stilts above shallow waters, a shaman was woken from his nap by an urgent tugging on his elbow.

‘[/color][b]Father. Father![/b][color=gold]’

‘[b]Mm[/b],’ he mumbled. ‘[b]What is it, Eka?[/b]’

‘[/color][b]Wraith![/b][color=gold]’

His eyes flew open. His daughter, crouched down next to him on his bed of straw, pointed at the room’s arched entrance.

There stood someone with a face – if faces could be a smudged smear of skin, with no indeterminate features.

Adi began to shake.

‘[b]Gifter help us[/b],’ he whispered.[/color]

[center]...[/center]

[color=#e1ceff]One of the larger clumps of sand had formed a question mark on the ground.

‘[b]So you [i]are[/i] sentient[/b],’ said Sirna. ‘[b]What a fascinating thing you are.[/b]’[/color]
[center][h2]~[/h2][/center]
[hider=ACTION LOG]
• [b]SIRNA:[/b] Sirna encounters a sabulon wandering the Dreamscape and hitches a ride on its back as a wooden teaspoon. The Patron of Oblivion is as unhappy as ever and starts picking at Sirna like a nagging parent. A dream guide corrupted by the Patron of Nightmares (as seen [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5645847]here[/url]) shows up and makes the sabulon sad for the foreseeable future. After dubbing the corrupted dream guide a Nighthare and witnessing this turn of events, Sirna decides that bringing dreams and mortals closer together might be an interesting endeavour and, in a manner of speaking, opens the floodgates.

• [b]LUCID (In-Domain):[/b] Sirna thins the boundaries between the Dreamscape and the waking world, allowing the creatures of the Dreamscape to travel between both realms freely. These creatures range in sapience and sentience, and can take any form. Ever dreamed of a tiny, talking box? That's a thing now.
[indent] • These creatures will come to be known as Phantasms.
• No matter their form, they do not possess a solid body. They can choose to interact with the environment or pass through it, but they cannot physically interact with mortals capable of dreaming (i.e. humans, Changelings, animals... do Fae dream? Idk.)
• Oddly enough, they can't interact with physical objects either. They can summon their own, though (made of pure Dreamstuff™). 
• The vast majority of sighted Phantasms, no matter how odd, will stay close to forms that are known to mortals. Forms that resemble undiscovered concepts - e.g. a talking lamppost - are exceedingly rare and only serve to confuse or scare a mortal shitless.[/indent]
• [b]MORTAL:[/b] Oyuna and the other budding astronomers of Gabung spot a silvery, translucent serpent in the night sky.

• [b]MORTAL:[/b] Pulam collects firewood and meets a talking red monkey with a yellow crane head.

• [b]MORTAL:[/b] Śramaṇa Adi, in the little left of his village, wakes up to a spooky figure in the doorway, that which his daughter confuses with a wraith. He is, understandably, spooked.
[right]Conviction Balance: 9[/right][/hider]