Scene I: Cast aside your mortal coil! (V 2.0)
Daniel ran a fingertip along the cool, freshly cut wall, providing a steady scratching noise to accompany the echo of his footsteps. The entire underground structure was smooth and sterile smelling, like a fresh-slate.
Soft chatter probed at his ears as he neared a pair of doors at the hallway’s end. He squinted, searching for a handle, more so due to inadequate lighting and a lack of contrasting colors than aging eyes. So is the discomfort one reaps with a team of laymen. It mattered not. They couldn't take the building with them.
After a few seconds of fumbling and a soft click, the constant uneven roar enveloped him. Plates and silverware clattered against wooden long tables, laughing, shouting, and the happy shrieks of children at play resounded. All of this transpired over a backdrop of the sweet greasy scent produced by fresh sausage links and bacon.
A silver ring, taller than an average human standing on another's head, and just as prominent, took up more than half of the wall opposite of the entryway on a raised platform.
“Omph!”
A blur of color from his peripheral was the only warning spared before something solid slammed into his sternum. He grunted, air whisking out of his lungs. A grin broke through his grizzled features.
Tiny arms wrapped around Daniel's torso and a mass of red hair shifted from side to side as his assailant wriggled her nose against his belly, tickling the pain away. She looked up for a breath of air, revealing deep green eyes and heavily freckled cheeks. The very image her mother.
He returned the hug with one arm and mussed up her wiry hair with the other, drawing breath in the same instant. “Sorry Little Star, did I keep you waiting long?”
Samantha broke away, shaking her head vigorously. “Nope, not even a teeeeeny bit.” she pinched a sliver of empty space between thumb and forefinger with a smile, there was little a gap where a baby tooth once stood.
“Good.”
The child was one of nearly thirty others scattered about. Like her, they were oblivious to the odd symphony of fear and anticipation that never failed to gnaw at the heels of those confronting the unknown.
Few dreamwalkers still believed that there were “lines” between planes of existence. Fewer ever mustered the courage to seek them out, or even peer into their depths. Fewer still, dared to dive in.
And no dreamwalker to date, survived such an endeavor.
Daniel spied another young one scamper around a table towards Samantha from the opposite side of the room, flitting around and squeezing past bodies and chairs in the way. He invited Samantha to a game he and his fellows were occupying themselves with, prompting an upwards, pleading glance from her.
Daniel nodded his assent and tracked their forms until they disappeared into the crowd.
Onwards once more, to the platform Daniel strode, offering and acknowledging greetings to and from passerby. Outwardly, he was as relaxed and confident as those around him, thoufh he pressed his palms against his thighs to stifle their trembling.
Even if the ring could open a way to the void, there was no guarantee that it would be filled with as much aether as the progenitors claimed. He could think of one thousand and one alternative possibilities, the best of which being nothing happening at all. The worst? A repeat of The Great Halt. Inside of Sub Rosa's walls.
But if the progenitors were right, they could find a suitable niche to craft a world inside of. Not a dreamscape or some lackluster imitation, an actual world as real as Earth or Nexus. One untainted by fear, or constant strife, or death's sovereign fist.
A blonde, barely out of his teens, stood on the platform's edge, when he locked eyes with Daniel he waved him over with that almost perpetual grin that simply grew on people years of close interaction.
He stretched out a hand, pulling Daniel onto a smattering of short, uneven steps. “Have I told you that you're craziest boss I've had?”.
Daniel offered nod of gratitude before the turning to face the multitude before them, scanning for his daughter, “How many are we, Alex?”
“One hundred and seven exactly” though Daniel could not see it, the smile plastered onto his face probably faltered given the tone of his voice, “Marshal said he wasn't coming.”
Daniel looked Alex in the eyes, “If you are uncertain about this,” he said, voice barely above a whisper; “it is not too late to join him.”
“What? And miss the opportunity of a lifetime?” Alex scowled for a brief moment, as if even the thought of abandoning ages of research, speculation and labor was a mortal sin. “You might be crazy, but the theory behind planer travel is sound, I just didn't think we'd actually get to it so fast. I’m with this.” he motioned towards the crowd with an arm, “One-hundred and one percent.”
Daniel nodded again, allowing himself a smile, “Than you may do the honors.”
Alex's grin widened until it threatened to split his face apart, if he were a dog, Daniel figured, he would be wagging his tail into a blur. With a quick mock-salute, Alex raised his left arm into the air, engulfing his drive, an oval shaped arm guard embroidered with a scale pattern, within a bright red, smoke-like aura.
“Ahem.”
His amplified voice came out slightly distorted as it echoed across the room, garnering silence and expectant stares from those below save for a baby crying somewhere to the far right.
He gave Daniel a quick glance before continuing.
“Everyone! The time we've been working toward is finally at hand!” he swept his arm across the crowd, the cloud of aether streaking across his drive’s path. “Let those among you who are sullied by trepidation, who are faint of heart, or fourtitude not tarry here any longer! For the Earth was left as an inheritance for the meek! Our ship is gonna be sailing a long, long, long ways from that blue rock!”
A few chuckles arose, with a number of groans being audible for the attentive.
Through a tremendous effort of self-control and will to preserve his student’s image, Daniel resisted the urge to bury his face in his palms.
Before the young “prophet” said anything else, he activated his own drive, shaped in the image of two interlocked horseshoes. He cast out a thin tan aether line that connected with Alex’s drive, earning a backwards glance from him.
“Too much?”
Daniel nodded.
With a sound akin to an unorganized volley of rubber band fire, streamers of color burst across the room as each person anchored their drives to their neighbor's.The last line, a dull yellow, latched on Alex's.
It belonged to perhaps, the oldest man that Daniel had ever seen. He bore a heavily wrinkled face with a bald head and a curly, white beard that reached his collarbone.
He looked to the person at his left, and then his right before giving a huff of air, condemning the two as cowards when they did not come forward before stepping up himself. Daniel all but leaped to offer a hand in assistance with the stairs. The old man stopped just short of the first step and pressed it aside.
Knees hobbling at the start, he pushed himself up on worn legs, giving a few labored grunts to the platform’s main body before he took Daniel’s hand and squeezed it in a vice, pumping up and down, releasing him only after making eye contact with a denture-filled grin.
“Alright then.” Daniel dug his toes into the edges of his shoes, resisting the urge to rub his throbbing hand. “Alex, if you would.”
“One step ahead of ya.”
Alex turned on his heels and with childlike gusto; lit his drive, aimed, and loosed a bolt of pure aether at the ring's center.
It stopped mid-flight and emitted something between a long whine and an angry crackle, prompting many to cover their ears or yelp in discomfort.
The bolt stretched out in every direction to fit over the ring like a drum, the noise gave way to a dull thrumming that changed between a high and low pitch at regular intervals. Daniel waited until the gentle pulses could be heard well above any murmuring before turning his attention back to the old man, he seemed to be undaunted by the idea of being a guinea pig. Whether this was because of his guarantee of safety, which he himself was uncertain of, or a disregard for possible danger, he could not tell.
Nonetheless, he did not hesitate, nor ask questions, allowing Daniel to lead him to the ring. The man prodded it with his finger, creating ripples along its thin, water-like surface.
He flashed Daniel another smile, “Tingly,” he said, giving a short, bark-like laugh. “Immortality feels tingly.”
Head first, he took the plunge.
Ripples went across the surface once more and then settled. Daniel eyed the line connected to Alex's drive, seconds seemed to take the span of hours and he braced for the worse. Yet there were no explosions, nor black holes, nor nightmares crossing over from the other side.
The line twitched two times in quick succession.
Alex gave a wolfish grin, raising his drive-arm in the air, “He's in!”
Daniel could hardly think, much less stay stern faced as the cheering broke out, he and Alex helped one person after the other onto the platform and into the ring.
People hugged, cried and laughed freely. A gentle warmth spread its way to Daniel's heart. He saw his greatest wish being fulfilled. He saw hope, satisfaction, joy. He saw the double doors at the back jolt in the wrong direction.
Whump.
A shout echoed through the room, some made a panicked shuffle away from the doors while others stood transfixed. Dread clawed its way up Daniel's spine.
Whump.
Daniel motioned towards the ring, urging people to clamber up at a faster pace. A man lifted a child above himself, Daniel darted his eyes around the room, heart slamming against his chest as he looked for his own.
Whump!
With the last impact, the doors flung open, the one on the left hanging by a single hinge. At least thirty men and women, dressed in black uniforms; aether-absorbent pyre-wood vests, helmets with protrusions at their backs reminiscent of backwards curling crest feathers. Uniform cylindrical drive-casings adorned their arms. They stood in the ruined entryway, the one in front holding a miniature battering ram.
Vultures, the Nexus' police force.
With a sharp clang, the ram fell and its user moved aside. First, there was only the steady clomping of heavy boots, but the neat row of vultures at the front parted soon enough.
A tall women with strands of auburn hair just visible under her helmet took one more step before she spoke up loud enough to be heard without the assistance of a sound amplification program, “By the authority of the council of eight! You are all suspected of committing acts deemed dangerous to Sub Rosa, submit, and you will be detained without harm!”
The woman grasped the baton at her side, opposite of the service pistol on her belt. Most of the vultures behind her followed suit.
Gasps and quiet whispering turned into incoherent shouting as nigh everyone made a break for the ring, some going as far as pushing or stepping over any in their path.
One woman who, until that point, was sitting quietly near the front, snapped her turtle shaped drive to bear and loosed a blue strand of lighting into the vulture who previously bore the battering ram. It produced an ear ringing crack against his chest, staggering him. This spurred a collection of other stragglers into action, some shouted obscenities while more lit their drives, loosing a hail of hardlight in many colors and unpleasantly sharp shapes alongside the occasional dedicated offensive program as well as a lonley steel chair.
With practiced fluidity, the first rank of vultures rose tall, projecting aether-fields that rippled against the incoming projectiles, absorbing their momentum, causing most of them to drop on contact or plink impotently off of the vultures' gear. They marched forward slowly with the main bulk of their force. Ones of particularly lithe frame skirted around the edges of the formation, making for the defenders' flanks.
Daniel noticed movement in his peripheral vision; Alex, drive alight, headed towards the fray. He pulled him back by the collar and pushed him into the ring before he could protest.
Trying to salvage everything he could, Daniel yelled, “Inside!” to anyone close enough to hear him over the surrounding cacophony. There was no need for saying it. He was jostled back and forth, and clothes-lined by an anchor connected to a pair of dream walkers in retreat. It tugged and snapped on his neck, leaving red dots in his vision with a screaming line of pain in its wake.
Eventually, the stampede of those in fortunate positions tapered off to the odd person reaching the ring from the middle. Most of the anchors, including his own, were cut; either by vultures, or in an attempt at a faster escape.
Daniel took deep breaths, palms resting on his knees until the dots faded, he looked up. The pleasant aroma of food melded with that of ozone and burning paper. Shattered plates and silverware dotted the floor.
More than half of the dreamwalkers putting up a resistance had been subdued; most laid on their stomachs, unscathed, though others were clearly bruised or bleeding, or unconscious—he hoped—. All were cuffed or shackled. He estimated about twenty remaining, an upended table in the middle marked the last of their lines. Two dreamwalkers leaned against it, siblings by their close appearance, fired gouts of flame at the ever slowly advancing rows of vultures to no effect.
A second skirmish to the far right had a smaller number of vultures fleeing a three-man-tall golem made on the spot from tables and loose building materials. Four dreamwalkers armed with nothing more than table legs, only one of them reinforced with a hard light casing, attempted to tie them up in melee to give the golem time to catch up.
Another detachment of vultures made it around the platform's left flank, dispelling anchor-lines and pulling teens and toddlers back to another group closer to the exit.
Daniel grimaced and aimed his drive at the one closest to him, with a deep hum, gravity obeyed his program, bringing a female vulture to her hands and knees as she struggled to escape.
"Daddy!"
His concentration faltered and the program collapsed, Daniel was faintly aware of his previous target gasping for breath as he snapped his head in the direction of his daughter's voice.
Samantha's hands were on the left side of the platform. She tried to hoist herself up, with little progress.
Daniel forced a portion of his aether reserves into his legs, allowing him to close the distance in a single bound. He reversed gravity's pull under her, lifting Samantha into his arms. “Are alright?”
She blinked and brushed bits of hair that got stuck to her face out of the way. “Yes,” she whimpered.
Daniel let out a sigh of relief and turned, they would leave immediately; most of the others had already escaped or were beyond help. There was no good he could do for the rest on his own.
A wrinkling noise akin to the crushing of aluminum foil came from his right. An invisibility program wearing off.
"Alex?"
He looked up into the eyes of the female vulture he immobilized moments before. She stood between him and the ring, her drive was alight in gray and she held her baton level with his chin, though she made no move to harm either of them.
“These incidents don't always end with exile.” She lowered her baton. “I'm sure what you guys did won't be considered a malicious act. Please just come with us. All you'll get is a slap on the wrist, I promise.”
Footsteps preempted the arrival of another vulture, a male, short with slim features. The one in front of the ring perked up. “Hey, Arnold!” She waved the man over. “Tell them about the time we caught a couple of Manipulars tryin' to rig an airship for 'space travel' Central gave them a job, right?”
The man shambled past with a slight limp. A violet hardlight needle jutted from a place on his calf, though he showed no signs of acknowledging it.
“What's the matter?” She put a hand on Arnold's shoulder, it too, was ignored. His lips moved in the same pattern over and over again, as he passed, enough times for Daniel to make sense of his mutterings.
“Their will be done”
Cladding his baton in an aura of green, he struck the ring's side and simply vanished, leaving not even a wisp of aether behind.
Daniel reached outwards with his senses, though couldn't find any sign of the man. Shock gave way to bewilderment.
The ring's consistent humming stumbled into a low moan and then a deafening roar before it changed from Alex's red to a sickly green. Samantha put her hands over her ears and closed her eyes, the vulture shouted words that Daniel couldn't pick up. Something pulled at his arm. In the same instant, Samantha's feet left the ground, she slammed into Daniel's chest, throwing both of them backwards. A certain wetness hit his outstretched limb, followed by nearly painful prickles up to his elbow. Glancing back confirmed his fears, the ring had him.
Two quick gravity programs, one to push against the ring, and another to keep his feet on the ground, prevented them both from being devoured. Daniel wrapped his remaining arm around Samantha.
It was unlike the familiar tug of a gravity program; there was a certain pressure on Daniel's wrist, as if an intangible beast clamped onto it with blunted teeth.
He looked upwards, debris, silverware, and drops of blood flew past them. An unfortunate dream walker screamed as she too, was pulled in by the hood of her jacket. Through some program of unknown design, the lady-vulture had rooted herself to the floor, slowly staggering her way towards them, she slammed her left leg down more harshly than the other.
With as much of gravity's force as he could muster while maintaining the other two programs, Daniel struggled to dislodge himself. The vulture grimaced, Samantha screamed just above the ring's howling, and Daniel tried harder still. It availed him none; the ring's pull was many times stronger on the inside, soon it would engulf half of his body. And if Samantha was still clutched to him...
Daniel smiled, laid a kiss on his daughter’s forehead, and murmured three simple words. Those too, were drowned out by the ring, but Samantha seemed to understand, for a fresh wave of tears flowed down her cheeks.
Fate seemed to have it in for the Vale family, Daniel came to that conclusion after what happened to his dearest Linda, though Samantha seemed to be unbreakable despite it all. She would smile when he couldn't and continued to care about the simplest things when he wouldn't. How many times has she kept him from drinking himself numb, or worse? Samantha was tough, of that Daniel was certain. She could make it without him.
He drew from his aether reserves until his drive burned against his forearm in the swell of his tan aura. Grunting, he released it all with one great push. It only propelled Samantha a few feet from the ring's maw, but it was enough. The lady-vulture drove no less than eight hardlight anchors into the wall at the left and caught Samantha in her arms.
Without any aether to sustain them, Daniel's programs fizzled out. With a terrible lurch, darkness swallowed him up.
Author's Note
After almost an entire year of lollygagging, here is what should have been my first fic.
This was going to be a little 500 word blip attached to the next chapter, but it felt rushed so I added another fifty or so words. And then another, and another, and another until it became too big to not have its own space.
I am very bad at sticking to plans.
In any case, I intend to create a far-reaching playground out of this with enough background detail to allow other writers to contribute to the overall story if they so wish it. Further lore information regarding dream walkers and the like will be given via blog-posts or group forum deposits (should I get around to making a group) so hang tight if you're at all interested.
Also, if I make a mistake, or if my writing sucks do not hesitate to tell me, I will not delete criticism, it's what makes my work better.
Scene II: (Not) Of her own design. (V 2.0)
The snow sheet held Teddy's weight for a moment, then groaned out in a straining kind of crunch before devouring his ankles, double sock layers and all.
As far as Winter nights in the Midwest went, it could have been worse. Yesterday's storm was a testament to that. Porch lights glinted through fledgling icicles on the otherwise bare trees nearby. Wind trails bit at his ears on their way to carry more mass for the vast expanse of white on the ground. A few errant flecks found their way to Teddy's glasses. Despite his poor chattering teeth, the scene was almost calming, serene even.
He expelled a puff of frost-touched air. Almost.
Steady footsteps from the driver's side of the car prompted a glance backwards. “Two, four, four... right, Marshal?” Teddy asked. He squinted as he scanned through the much too small house numbers around the cul-du-sac.
“Yup, it's to your left.” a rather tall man in a leather coat said as he approached Teddy's side. “Cold?”
“Not too cold.” Came Teddy's reply before he cut across the center driveway at Marshal's direction.
Unease squirmed its way into his stomach. This would be the first time spending the night over a peer's house. Said peer being a girl whose guardians his parents had only spoken to over the phone once made the situation worse. Hours worth of news-casted kidnapping cases screamed at him to ask Marshal if they could call the entire affair off.
But then where would he go? Surely not back home, a missed anniversary, rose petals leading up to the master bedroom, and the obscure sight of Father clad in an apron smeared with bits of cake batter assured him of that. Besides, turning around would mean interfering with Marshall's work.
With a sigh of resignation, he dug his chin into the collar of his coat to keep the breeze from eating his face.
Marshal stopped and lifted an arm. “Give me your hands,” he said.
“Here?” he cupped them together inches under Marshal’s own. Given a moment's delay, a faded bell shape appeared on the man's forearm amid a soft yellow glow. It dissipated, revealing two thin discs of hardlight in the previously the empty space in Teddy's palms.
“Put those under your gloves.”
He did so; they were soft and gave a mite when he curled his fingers into them. Warmth spread up to his wrists in heartbeat-like pulses. Teddy frowned, “You’re not supposed to use programs on Earth,” he whispered.
“And You're not supposed to wear gardening gloves when it's minus six outside. I'm not going to let you get frost-nip. Your Ma would wring my neck.”
Teddy considered another complaint, but the next pulse muffled it. “Thank you.” He walked faster to keep up with Marshal's long strides.
A short stretch of ground was soon all that separated them and their destination; the modest brick house had a small set of stairs leading up to its entrance. Or rather, a slope of snow and ice that used to be a set of stairs.
Walking in Marshal’s boot prints, he managed to make it to the door without slipping. “How well do you know these people?”
The man dismissed the hardlight discs with a wave of his hand, leaving an empty feeling in Teddy's gloves. He flashed a smile. “You don't need to worry, my mentor was Samantha's pa, I went to school with Catherine, and I held Grace when she was a baby. They're all sweet, wouldn't hurt a fly between them.”
Teddy let out a breath and mentally berated himself for being so silly, Marshal would never put him in harm’s way. Mother and Father trusted the man enough to mentor him, acting as a chaperon was not so far of a stretch. There were no social obligations to fulfill either. The girl just wanted to get her dreamscape qualified, and Teddy just wanted to take notes to help him with his own examination.
Marshal gave the door three swift knocks.
Silence passed through the air. Teddy shifted his weight on one foot, and then the other. He was about to ask Marshal if he was certain that they had the right address, when a thump jarred him out of the thought.
The faintest hint of giggling waxed until it broke into a cackle of slasher film caliber. “Stop! Stop, I'll kill you, I swear!” A voice shouted between gasping breaths.
“Marshal, may I please go back to the ca-”
Too late. The door swung open, and Teddy braced, fully expecting a clown-faced hag with a knife. Instead, he looked up at a woman with blonde hair that reached just past her shoulders, she appeared to be around Marshal's age.
A little ways past her, a freckle struck red-head was sprawled out in a rather uncomfortable looking stomach-down position on a stairwell leading up to the main floor. A smaller girl who bore the same hair color as the women at the door clung to her back with both hands around her waist. Redhead flailed her limbs about in a futile effort to free herself. Teddy took that moment to be thankful that he was an only child; he had never been subjugated to the tickle-torture.
“The old farts at Central aren’t letting you rest, are they, Marshal?” The woman said, seemingly unaware of Redhead's cries for help behind her. She gave the man a brisk hug.
"This is supposed to be my day off, actually,” Marshal replied. “But Sam's name came up and I had a favor to cash in. The guy that had tonight's shift caught a mysterious 'stomach bug'.”
The woman smiled. “Well, you can tell Mr. Bug that I appreciate his timing.” She stepped past Marshal, offering Teddy her hand.
“Catherine Harris, Marshal's talked a bunch about you, drone racing is pretty neat, you gotta give me an autograph when you go pro.”
Teddy's cheeks flushed as he let go of Catherine's hand. He stammered, “Thank you, but I'm nowhere near good enough to be a professional.”
A gentle pat on the head sent a few specks of snow to the floor. It was odd, having a stranger just reach out and casually touch him like that. “Not now you aren’t, but give it time, I've got a good eye for these things.” She clasped her hands together. “Anywho, why don't you kick the stuff off your shoes and come on in? It's much more comfortable in the living room.”
She spoke the truth. A U-shaped array of couches greeted him around a brick fireplace which crackled away at a log that almost seemed too big to hold. A wall mounted television displayed a praying mantis chomping away at a rather unfortunate butterfly. Placed under it was a glass braced cabinet stocked full of DVDs and the odd VCR tape; the overall impression was that of a man cave, with only him and Marshal to provide the “man” part.
“Hold tight, Grace and I made something you guys might like.” Catherine stepped into a wide entryway to the right that gave way to a tiled floor, leaving everyone else to settle down.
Out of habit, Teddy chose the seat on the far end, content with looking at anything but the people in the room. A nearby plop and a pair of blue eyes peering up at him dashed all hopes of ending the night in an asocial manner.
“So, you see ghosts and stuff too?”
Teddy nodded . “Uh... yes, I'm a dreamwalker. ”
Grace leaned forward. “Cool! What does your drive look like?”
“It's a spyglass”
The girl gave a short hum. “Mine is gonna be something awesome, like a comet! Or a dragon!” Grace spread her arms wide and 'roared' at him.
Despite himself Teddy smiled, “You don't get to choose what it looks like. It settles after you develop your schema.” A drive was in and of itself, thought to be a reflection of its wielders schema, one’s inner world forged from their thoughts and sentiments
Tilting her head to the side Grace asked, “Didn't Flounder Darius shape his own?”
“Founder Darius.” Teddy lifted a finger. “And you're right, but he was a special case.”
“Then I'll be a special case too.”
Before he could come up with a reply, Catherine returned, bearing a tray with five steaming mugs, she set it down on the table before taking a seat next to Samantha.
Teddy leaned forward to inspect it. Hot chocolate.
Hot chocolate with a layer of whipped cream on the top that was in turn topped by a small block of milk chocolate. “Thank you,” Teddy said, taking a mug with both hands, he sipped; “tastes like melted smiles” would be the best way he could describe it. It was like a candy bar in liquid form, but sweeter, and the taste lingered pleasantly inside his mouth even after swallowing. He took another sip, then another, consuming greater quantities with each pass. It was gone much too quickly.
“Was it that good?”
Teddy looked up to see everyone else staring at him. Samantha made a wiping motion across the top of her lips, prompting Teddy to mimic it, shaving off his newly acquired whipped cream mustache. The first night without supervision, and he was already being uncouth. “Yes. I mean sorry? I’ve never had anything like this.”
Catherine held a hand over her mouth, partially concealing a smile. “I can make you another if you want.”
Within an hour and a half, the fire died down to a few stubborn embers. Catherine doled out covers for everyone, laying Grace's over her, the girl had fallen asleep on her side shortly after finishing her treat. Light snoring accompanied the steady rise and fall of her stomach.
“Alright then Samantha, whenever you're ready.” Marshal whispered.
She nodded, and then went limp, slumping backwards with a muffled thump. Her sister and Marshal following suit. Teddy was rather envious of them, he still couldn't perform an astral-projection that quickly without the aid of sleep paralysis.
The boy closed his eyes.
'Don't force it,' he recalled Father's calm metered voice. 'If you try to just yank your soul out, your body's only going to be more stubborn about keeping it in. Busy it with some other impossible thing, imagine throwing yourself at the ground. And miss.'
Minutes passed. Eventually, the familiar pins and needles sensation rose to greet his chest, nothingness embraced him.
And then there was a night’s sky that held too much light to be natural. Crickets and a solitary owl put up a screen of noise around him.
He didn't complete the astral projection, someone must have pulled him out. A thank you would be in order if jump vertigo was not an unpleasant affair of swirling vision and that blasted numbness enveloping his head. He reached leftwards with blinking eyes, steadying himself on what felt like rock braced by a layer of damp moss. His left leg stung, as if something with hands much larger than any living thing had a right to posses recently released a harsh grip on his thigh.
The world soon slowed its spinning enough for him to keep his eyes open. He stood upon a spiraling span of ground that was cut out from a sizable rock almost worthy to be called a mountain. It overlooked a wider, forested region to his right. The further he scanned, the more dense the trees grew until their formations went from sparse pockets to a sea of deep green that held much taller specimens with unnaturally curved trunks. Looking at that certain area filled him with a sensation of unease. Opposite of it was a collection of lamp lights amidst houses of many shapes and sizes, some topped with hay, the rest bearing tiled roofs; it looked much like a town caught between a medieval and industrial era.
Teddy elected to bring his gaze back to the immediate vicinity, he wriggled a loose pebble from between his toes, it left a throbbing pain behind.
'Wait.’ Teddy blinked ‘Sight, sound, touch, smell and...' Glancing around himself to ensure that no one was looking, Teddy licked his wrist.
He spotted Samantha leaning against another section of the rock. Now that they were separated from the physical world, Teddy could see that she wore her drive on her right arm, it bore the likeness of three jagged strands of lightning that converged at a point just above her wrist.
Teddy nearly pounced on her as he grabbed her hand, shaking it vigorously. “You're a genius! How did you make a dreamscape that looks so life-like, and with all five senses nonetheless?” The girl moved her lips, but did not smile, or say anything loud enough to hear.
“Hm?”
She brushed a pile of sand off of a dimple in the rock-wall, her fingers twitched a bit, a hiccup interrupted her breath. Her voice made uneven by lingering jump vertigo.
“I didn't make any of this.”
(Oo/\oO)
“Miss Mare?”
Final Draft propped the quilt around her shoulders upwards so she could grab it with her teeth. The constant scratch scratch scratching of her employer's blue quill went on without the slightest grunt of acknowledgment or flick of an ear.
Slouched over her desk, Mayor Mare was an undertaker, preparing yet another body for the local paperwork mass grave. No less than eight drained coffee mugs stood off to the side in ordered rows of four, exuding the faintest scent of what they once held. The hayburger Final Draft brought for her hours ago, however, remained untouched.
Just when inquiries about the “Discord issue” tapered off a mite, that Canterlot filly's dragon had to take a foray into puberty, or 'greed growth' as they called it. The resulting destruction buried Ponyville’s paper-pushers in a literal metric ton of dead trees. It was a shame too, before Spike stamped a hole into her uncle’s house, she thought him to be rather adorable.
The novelty of living close to a baby dragon, like that of comfy seating in her workplace, had long since worn off. The addition of a microwave, bedrolls, and one of those ingenious new massage chairs kept death by stress at bay, but only just. For an entire week, the office lights came on during breakfast and never saw rest till well past midnight.
When Final draft left for the quilt, Miss Mare's eyes were half lidded, now she held her head inches from the oak-wood desk with her eyes hardly open at all. Despite her claims to the contrary, Ponyville's mightiest bureaucrat could not survive on coffee and ink.
Final Draft sighed through the quilt, stepping over a pillow and then countless stacks of paper on her way to miss Mare's side. Her red rimmed eyes were fixed on an inter-town labor forum, though Final Draft doubted that she was actually into it. With a blue stained muzzle, miss Mare drew out continuous cursive “E”s that threatened to cross over into the desk.
Slowly, carefully, Final Draft rose and positioned herself so that her chin just grazed the gray hair on top of miss Mare's nape, she swiped the quill out of her mouth with one hoof, pushing the paper away with another. Then she released her quilt, draping it over miss Mare's shoulders who nodded her head a few times, jaw still working in a futile effort to write. As expected, she dropped on her cheek without protest.
With her duties complete for the time being, Final Draft allowed herself a glance at the glass door leading to the pegasus landing behind Miss Mare’s desk. The sight of a messenger bearing a stripped down variant of golden royal guard platemail in the middle of a banking turn almost made her bite her tongue.
In a heartbeat, she scrambled to glass door. The guardspony landed with a hoof poised to knock. Final Draft stood on her hind legs and waved both front hooves while mouthing the words: 'don't you dare' to him, calling up the most menacing look she could muster.
Slowly, she slid the door open, until there was enough space for her to slip out. She grasped the messenger by his shoulders, “It is three in the morning, why can't you just drop whatever you have in the mailbox?” Final Draft half hissed, half whispered.
“Sensitive information ma'am, for the eyes of Ponyvile's highest official only,” The guardspony said in his order's practiced even tone and blank expression.
Final draft pointed a hoof over to the desk “Leave it there.”
“My apologies ma'am but I can-”
“Leave what where?” The door slid open further, Miss Mare leaned against the frame, the effort of walking out alone probably ate at her very soul.
Stepping past Final Draft, the guardspony reached into a bag slung over his armor, producing a neatly folded scroll that he surrendered to the older mare with both wings. “Please, read this with haste.” he bowed, turned, and catapulted himself into the sky, disappearing over the roof of Town Hall.
“The nerve of some ponies!” Final draft said as she followed miss Mare back into the office, “I swear, if it's another request for zap apple seeds- I will personally buck them in th-”
“Draft, may I have two cups of coffee? Double the usual amount of sugar, please.” All of the tiredness in her voice was gone as she made her way to the coat rack, dislodging a gray cloak from it.
“Is something the matter?”
Miss Mare simply pointed to the open letter on her desk. Final draft scanned it with a frown that grew steadily deeper until it threatened to become a permanent feature.
My dear friend,
I truly apologize for sending mail to you at this hour, but a number of the bipedal creatures that attacked Appaloosa three weeks previous were spotted by a guard contingent stationed near Brighton. They were last seen traveling the road to Ponyvile.
Their actions until this point were conducted via what we believe to be long range teleportation spells, traveling by hoof may simply be a rouse to occupy our attention. There may be no real threat to your town. However, I have dispatched a few spell swords and a court mage, they should arrive within the hour. I would ask that you raise the local fryd as well, just to be safe.
Should these creatures actually set their eyes on Ponyvile, I would prefer you not involve the elements until you have exhausted every other resource, Equestria can not afford to lose them.
-Celestia
Author's Note
I apologize in advance if the slice of life bits of this tale seem long winded. It takes about twenty two paragraphs to get Teddy and Marshal to a door because I wanted to do more than just take them from point A to point B. If I do this right, I will provide some iota of every PoV character’s thought patterns and personality, enough to let you draw them in your mind a bit. I could have done the standard info-dump and injected hard definitions of how I want them to be regarded into the narrative, but that's just like jamming an ideology down someone's throat. It almost never positively affects politics, philosophy, or palate, (I still turn up my nose at the black-eyed peas my parents would force me to eat, though that may just be immaturity.) books are no different.
As always, be as brutal as possible in your reviews or criticism of my work. If you strike me down, I will be more powerful than you could possibly imagine.
