the nights in the desert

<span style='color:orange'>
ooc| orange text = thoughtful and descriptive add-on. Tres Interesting.
</span><span style='color:76818D'>
bic|
The situation was getting ugly. What had began as a simple meeting had contorted into this. This was one of those times where one wishes that she could just pull her lips over her head and swallow. The eerie orange aura of Sketch's eyes returned as she watched Ras on the ground. She could feel energy coming from him. Dark energy. And alot of it. Some sort of exotic nightmare, maybe. Sketch was reluctant to look into his mind, worried of what she might see. The night was turning out terrible enough, so more stress seemed slightly unfavorable. Never the less, she walked towards the collapsed dragon. Why, she may never know.

Before she realized what she was doing, sketch reached out her paw to the tortured individual, and placed it upon his forehead. She closed her eyes to shield herself from his dark chasm, but it made no difference. </span>
<span style='color:orange'>
With any luck, she could still pull this off. To see anothers dream is no small matter. Sketch had always felt strange about the act, feeling like a peeping tom. However, the time seemed appropriate to her, and felt that Ras needed someone. Dragons do not often collapse for no real reason. So she touched his head softly and began to concentrate. Behind her eyelids the blackness began to give way to vibrant pink, blue and green haze, as if the inside of her skull had been lit with colored spotlights. Beyond the colors, the surrounding terra began to draw itself out in silver lines, as if by a ghostly etch-a-sketch and continued untill it became so intricate, it could have very well been the real world. Of course, Sketch knew her eyes were still closed. She assumed this part of the process was forcing herself out of once conciousness, passing the barrier, and melding with another mind. As interesting as it may sound, she wasn't fond of the often blinding intensity. By now the lines had all brightened, and changed colors in an opal-like tone, and she could see the figure who was Temrin, watching intently. All of the sudden, the world seemed to shatter, and every object appeared to break up into millions of tiny puzzle pieces. She could see every detail in the dragons face, see the tiny folds in the iris of her eye, and beyond, into the nerves connecting the retina to her head. The same intensity applied to all her surroundings. She'd left her body, and was now seeing the world for what it really was, and not distorted by mortal eyes.

Now came the worst, she thought. Her vivid pristine landscape began to shake. The sky became blurred and the ground tilted. Sketch felt her center of gravity sway, and she stumbled sideways. She glanced back to Temrin, and watched her face twist and begin to melt. Sketch felt herelf trying to blink, but had forgotton her eyes were already closed. Around her the sky became runny and began to swirl like calm rapids. The only thought that came to her mind was: </span>
<span style='color:C0BFAD'>
"this is what crazy people see."
</span><span style='color:orange'>
However, she was now nearing Ras' subconcious mind. The world continued to reshape and distort itself, but the bright colorful lighting faded to an eerie red. In the distance Sketch could hear talking. Not one person, but many. Thousands. Whispers mostly, memories and thoughts, all moving fast as lightening. While she could not understand them, the overall tone seemed very cold. Anger, hate, loathing, regret, resentment, and longing filled the sky, which had clouded to a deep ultraviolet. The deformed scenery gave way now to a massive spiraling whirlpool. The funnel seemed to extend infinately, curling, making a noise simillar to that of angry geese, but a thousand times louder and more frightening. </span><span style='color:76818D'>

She now saw why such a cold, hard barrier was required. She had claimed the ability to free them both, but now that she saw what she was up against, she was not so sure. This nightmarish chaos was not what she had bargained for, but now that she was here, she had to do something. But what.

So she began to glow. Glow? Yes glow. With every breath a bright white light grew and grew from deep inside her chest. Aided by remarkable concentration, the glowing process was a long practiced wiccan proceedure. The only twist was that she was in someone elses mind. If she could give him a landmark to follow, perhaps it will lead him out of his own abyss.

The light grew still untill it hummed like a flourescent lightbulb. With all her remaining strength, she voiced the words. "Go to the light". Her voice was weak, but it echoed endlessly in the shadow world. Suddenly there was a electrical snap, and Sketch found herself blinking blindly in the normal world. </span>
<span style='color:C0BFAD'>
/oh shit./
</span>
<span style='color:76818D'>
...she thought to herself. She'd been expelled from his mind, his barries finally retaining themselves, retracting like a reflex. She had done what she could under the circumstances, and the rest was up to Ras. Only he could pull out of himself now. </span>

 

<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span>
<table class=ooc><tr><td><span style='color:gray'>*faint* the lengths of your posts are incredible! How and where do you come up with so much stuff to write? Oh, and your grammer is heavenly compared to my hellish grammer. oh! and <span style='color:blue'>blue</span>=dream <span style='color:purple'>purple</span>=real</span></td></tr></table>



<span style='color:blue'>Ras' dream left him deposited in a stoney wasteland. He wandered amoungst it, visions of people he knew showing, yelling at him, and dissappearing. Even a picture of Temrin appreared. It said the first thing he had heard from her. <span style='color:yellow'>state you name and who you work for! or you wont get the chance to say your prayers</span> It's misty sword raised at him. He stared into the eyes of this figure before it dissapeared. He curled into a ball and hugged his legs to him.

He raised his head and listened as Sketch spoke inside his mind. He stood. <span style='color:orange'>Who...</span> he began but was cut off as he raised a paw to sheild his eyes from the light glowing far away. He listened to the voice. He turned and began to run. A misty whip cracked by him.</span><span style='color:purple'> He cried out in pain at the memory. That was when Sketch was thrown out.</span>

<span style='color:blue'>Ras ran as fast as he could. His eyes closed against all memories, though they kept popping up and he could hear their resentment. He reached out a paw to grasp the light as he approached it but was stopped as a memory of a cage formed around him. <span style='color:orange'>NO! </span> he called inside his mind as he sank to the floor. He was defeated, he thought he could never reach Sketch's lifeline now.</span>

 

<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span>
<table class=ooc><tr><td>

Well my dear, thats what grade 11 english can do to a person. They force it upon you so hard that by the end of the week, you begin to hear yourself think in full sentances. It's actually rather frightening, what with the brainwashing, but what can you do?</td></tr></table>


<span style='color:#76818D'>
|bic|
Sketch slowly drifted back to complete alertness. Her head felt as if it had been stung by a hundred bees, and her vision still seemed painfully bright. Even the background would distort every now and then, but dissapear if she looked directly at it. Suddenly, as if an alarm had gone off, she realized that Ras was still down. He had gone limp and pale now. She immediately tilted his head back and checked for vital signs. He was still alive. Pulling his eyelid back, she put her own face close to his and forcing her eye to glow brightly, realized he was responsive. He was in a coma. Lost in a dream world.
Finally, exhaustion was catching up, and Sketch collapsed to the ground. She wanted to sleep, but knew she couldn't. For some reason unknown, she had gotten herself into this stupid mess, now she had no choice but to clean it up. Thats what her mom always told her when she was just a hatchling. As easy as it had sounded then, now she was wracking her numb brain for ideas, but found her efforts fruitless. In desparation, she looked at Temrin, who was pawing nervously at Ras and pacing around him, crying like young puppies do. Something told Sketch that Miss Sanjem did not need another tragedy in her life.

Suddenly, a spark flew. She had an idea. She looked over to Temrin, eyes ablaze, a smile came across her face. Surely it should be considered innapropriate given the circumstances, but I suppose it doesnt matter. </span>
<span style='color:#c0bfad'>
"Hey Temrin. Ever done witchcraft before?"
</span><span style='color:#76818D'>
And with her sharpened claw, drew a circle, encasing a pentagram inside in the sandy dirt. Above them the full moon smiled and shon with the reflected light of a star far away. She would help Ras after all, but she couldn't do it alone.
</span>

 

<span style='color:#76818D'>
Eyes alight with a firey glow, Sketch was deep in thought. It had been literally years since she'd last practiced any sort of ritual. But maybe if she could just remember enough...</span>

<span style='color:#C0BFAD'>
"Temrin. I need you now. I cannot get through to your friend.
He's locking me out. But he knows you, and maybe you'll have more luck. What I need you to do, is concentrate real hard and repeat everything I say in your head. Keep focusing, and together we should be able to enter his thoughts. Whatever you do, do not leave the circle at any time, as it will break the energy and we'll be trapped in another dimension forever. As cheesy and cheap-sci-fi-novelesque as it sounds, I am dead serious. Basicly, we're playing with forces of nature that we shoudn't be. Just... be careful."</span>

<span style='color:#76818D'>
Sketch scrambled over to ras and carefully touched his bloodied arm. With the crimson liquid, she carefully drew a symbol at each corner of the 5 pointed star. In addition, she but a single drop of blood in the center of the star. From a string around her left ankle, she grabbed a tiny glass vial, filled with a translucent blue liquid. From it she poured three drops in the center of the circle, amongst the blood. The two liquids began bubbling soflty.

Sketch took a seat at one point of the star, and motions to Temrin to sit across from her. In a soft, but clear voice, she began: </span>
<span style='color:#C0BFAD'>
"Lady of the Night, Sprit of the Day,
Please hear the call of your daughters.
Silvery Moon Woman, watch as I lay
This Circle of Power.
Great Hunter, Father, Son and Lover
Hear my call if you will, Laughing Man,
Eternal Man, watch over this
Circle of Power."</span>
<span style='color:#76818D'>
With this she blew lightly on the bubbling mass in the center, and it burst into a turquoise flame, which swirled and flickered silently and heatlessly afront them.

It was Temrins turn. She had to work her own magick and break the firey barrier. However, she too had to pass over to him and experience the strange phenomenon Sketch had earlier. If she was not prepared for the chaos, who knows what could happen. As long as she doesnt run and break the circle, they would be fine. Sketch readied herself to jump up and grab Temrin, should the situation arise.

But for now, all she could do was wait.
</span>

 

<span style='color:#76818D'>
To Sketches surpise, she had broken through. /This girl has talent./ she thought. But there was no time to gawk. Once again she found herself weightlessly suspended in the nightmare that was Ras' inner mind. We had to find him. Around us, were a million twisting, turning paths. Unlike normal roads, these moved in three dimensions, up, down, left, right, diagonal, loops, zig zags... any formation imagineable. At the vertex of each road stood a sign post, labeling each pathway. However, they signs seemed of no use, because each path was labled with a date. Day, month, year.

Sketch surveyed the thousands of pathways, feeling hopelessly lost.
She called to Temrin:</span>
<span style='color:#C0BFAD'>
"I think we may be in over our heads here. Do you have any idea of where he he might be. Perhaps some tragic event in his life? Anything?"
</span>

 

Ras was stuck in the cage his mind itself had raised bar by bar. One paw stuck in between the bars. Visions of others swirled around. The one of Temrin hung closest to the cage. It's sword aimed directly for his neck. It's grimmace hung on its face as Temrin's first words to him kept repeating. The vision's mouth made no movement. Sketch's lifeline stood directly in front of him, it seemed to be fading fairly fast. His head was hung low and his eyes closed. The paw that hung out of the cage, the same one that was injured, began to turn a deep red before blood dripped to the ground, staining the sand below red. The Temrin vision stepped back appalled before growling and stepping foreward again and forcing him to raise his head so that his neck was visible.

 

<span style='color:#7A8088'>
Sketch glanced around nervously. She looked at the path Temrin motioned towards, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. But hey, if she sensed something, then it's better than nothing. But Temrin had also raised a good point. Once we start walking, we may never find a way back, and inevitably find ourselves stuck here, permanantly.

Sketch walked delicately up to the sign, which beared the numbers 22, 01, 813754, and with her razor sharp claw, carved an "x" into the soft surface, which appeared to be some sort of soft paper mache. Although its texture was soft, moist, and generally warm, it sent a chill up her spine. </span>

<span style='color:#8A7F7D'>
/normal people shouldnt see this sort of thing, you know. Ever./</span>
<span style='color:#BEBEB4'>
\well extreme circumstances call for extreme measures, aight?\</span>
<span style='color:#8A7F7D'>
/your playing with fire again, Sketch. You remember what happened last time you wanted to go where no one had gone before?/</span>
<span style='color:#BEBEB4'>
\That's different. It was a mistake, alright? What do you expect me to do about it?\</span>
<span style='color:#8A7F7D'>
/Go kill yourself. Like you did to her, slow and painful./</span>
<span style='color:#BEBEB4'>
\Shut up, shut up. This is not the time, Spike. I'm very busy.\</span>
<span style='color:#8A7F7D'>
/You can't shut me out forever, you know. You wont be busy forever. Soon you'll have to sleep, and rest assured, I'll be there./</span>
<span style='color:#BEBEB4'>
\I dont need you you sinister son of a bitch!\</span>
<span style='color:#8A7F7D'>
/Thats some accusation, coming from the queen of depravity, no?/
</span>
<span style='color:#BEBEB4'>"F*ck off!!" </span><span style='color:#7A8088'>Sketch screamed aloud, unaware that she was in the company of someone other than herself and her nightmares. She glanced to Temrin, a look of bewildered embarrasment on her face. She could hear her profanities echo a hundred times through the infinate darkness.

Before Temrin could speak, she turned away and began down the path.</span><span style='color:#BEBEB4'>

"Come on. We may not have alot of time to spare. Remind me to make an 'X' at each fork in the road, unless you never want to go home."
</span><span style='color:#7A8088'>
Motioning Temrin to follow, she walked off into the darkness, the only
ghostly light shining from her incandescent eyes. </span>

 

<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span>
<table class=ooc><tr><td><span style='color:gray'>UR KILLING RAS' MEMORIES! I have nothing to say. UR TURN!!</span></td></tr></table>

 

<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span>
<table class=ooc><tr><td> <span style='color:gray'>Holy shit. I appologize for the staggaring length of my posts. I dont mean to take up half of your day while reading it. But you know when you just start typing and then the next time you look theres like... *checks word count* ...1406 words there. Eee. Sorry guys.</span></td></tr></table>
<span style='color:#7A8088'>
Sketch heard a cry from Temrin behind her and spun around disjointedly. Before trying to maintain her balance panic struck her as she saw her new friend's walkway collapse beneath her. Temrin clung to the edge, with the well known look of blind fear in her eyes. Sketch reached out to the dragon, and grabbed her wrist. Leaning back with all her might she tried to pull her up. Unfortunately, Sketch was not a remarkably strong, or heavy girl and felt herself jerked forward towards the hole. After a moment of stillness and false hope they were ravaged with another jerk forward, and with this she lost her balance. The next few seconds seemed like eternity. As she toppled forward, Sketch looked up briefly just in time to see Temrin’s paw disappear over the edge. Sketch scrambled to the edge of the opening, close enough to peer straight down and see the fate of her comrade. To her horror, she saw nothing but inky blackness. Temrin’s cry echoed through the hollow terrain. Sketch waited for the dull sound of Temrin hitting the bottom, but it never came. In a flood of confusion, shock and anguish, she lay down on the remains of the path, resting her head in her delicate paws and began to sob. She had never intended any of this to happen. Out of all places to be, why here? Why hadn’t she just stayed home. She had always believed that for every negative action there was an equal positive reaction, and vice versa, but in this case she could hardly think of anything remotely good that could happen to fix the mess. But that’s when she saw it. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a dim greenish light. The glow was so dim, in fact she would not have noticed it at all if it had not wavered faintly.

Another of her commonly believed notions was that people, in general, do not spend enough time looking up. Like ants, we go about our daily lives focused upon the superficial details that blind us from truth, all those random things at eye level. But whilst we are distracted, there is just as much occurring everywhere else, things that we seldom notice, with the exception of determined Zen-like people and accidental detection, such as this instance.

Above her and to her right, beyond a forest-like block of curving paths she saw the light source. With infinite delicacy, she climbed up the paths like rungs of a ladder proceeding nearer and nearer to the glowing enigma. Along the way, her paws slipped several times, sliding and snapping a smaller paths. She couldn’t help but to think that her and Temrin’s destruction of the walkways must surely have some significant effect on Ras’ mind. However, she really had no choice.
As she finally came face to face with the light, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Affront her stood a massive intricate cage. It did not look like an ordinary bird-cage, but more resemble a hand-woven basket, consisting of complex dome of interlaced memories. The walls of the dome were nearly solid, with only half a dozen gaps left. Through the gaps smoldered an emerald green and azure fire. Although Sketch had never seen such a thing before, in her gut she knew that this was the “main nerve”, or the house of the soul. On closer inspection, she could see inside the fire an outline of a penndragon, lying on his side, chest heaving and gasping. Ras was dying all alone within himself. He’d locked himself away for so long, the walls were now suffocating his soul. In simpler terms, he was dying of loneliness and detachment from the world. The blood loss from earlier was not the cause of his collapse, but merely the trigger.

At once, sketch leaped upon the massive cage, her razor teeth ripping at the bonds that held her friend. With a loud electric crack, she was thrown backwards, landing hard upon the vertex of two paths. It did not budge, but she heard a soft creaking noise and for a moment she was sure she would fall through it to her own death. But no such thing came to pass, and she pulled herself back to her feet. Ras’ cage was highly locked, but she would not give up so easily. Once more she leaped on the cage, a specific thick bar this time. Upon contact, she lodged her teeth and claws into the soft membrane and held on with all her strength. instantly energy surged through her body and she felt as if every cell were on fire. The pain was unbearable, but she felt that her muscles had clamped up and she was paralyzed. She felt a tugging in her eyes as her pupils dilated to the size of her entire iris, making her normally shocking eyes into black holes, looking like the glazed black eyes of a stuffed teddy bear. Inside her though, her appearance was the last thing from her mind as she became a part of Ras’ mind. She could hear every thought, memory, idea and secret. The sensation could only be described as intently listening to each of a billion long stories, all simultaneously, complete with pictures, faces, names and opinions. The intensity was agonizing, but Sketch could not let go. She had to get Ras out of this so he could help her find Temrin. The whispering continued and seemed to be getting gradually louder and faster. With her remaining strength, Sketch screamed: </span>
<span style='color:#BEBEB4'>
“Hakaras! I know you hear me! It’s me, Sketch, I’m here to get you out of this. I can see what you see, and hear what you hear, and I know what you know. I know it is not pretty, but pull yourself beyond that now. I need you. Temrin, your good friend has fallen. She is lost, and alone in the labyrinth of YOUR mind, and you need to help her. She has come here to help you, and now it is time to return the favor. I know that you can do it Ras. Break the cage. Burn the regret. Crucify the ego. If not for yourself, for Temrin and I.” </span>
<span style='color:#7A8088'>
She knew that he could hear her loud and clear. She was using his own energy and reverting it back to him, so he could not ignore it. But now it was time to see how strong he really was. They say a person is defined by his or her own experiences and encounters in life. Sketch had never agreed. It is once response to those events that shape your personality. A concept often ignored by the average person is that everybody goes through equal bad luck in their lives. Nobody is better or worse off than another, and those who disagree are the weak ones. The person who has lived a happy life with a solid, happy family, with good food and good comfort, entirely protected from the brutalities of life is not fully alive. They have not learned from mistakes, and in turn have not bettered themselves in any way. They believe what they are told, not by choice, but by lack of alternate options. And to believe what your told is to believe a lie, a faulty perception. So in the end it is the one who has grown up in complete poverty who has learned the true value of a family member, a rainy day, a hot meal or the honest worth of a child’s laughter who is the one who is better off. In a world full of depression and self pity, the ability to see past that and find ones true self is a real statement of strength. To stand up and brush yourself off after being tortured and beaten by unfair means defines a truly strong person, and also the luckiest person in the group. All Ras had to do was realize that and he would be free. Sketch could not begin to browse the millions of memories and moments in Ras’ mind, but got the overall impression of a bullied child. But something told her that he had the power to break through if he only decided to. Now that Temrin had fallen, and Sketches own path out was inescapably ruined as well, both of their lives now depended upon Ras. </span>

 

Ras' eyes raised himself as Sketch attacked the cage he was in. He had beleived it to be another image created by his mind, it was trying to get to him and kill him. Now he was glad for this cage around him. he lowered his eyes but they raised again with hope as the beleived to be image spoke words he had never heard before. Temrin.....fallen? No. Temrin's right there His "mind" said. <span style='color:orange'>No, Temrin's right there.</span> he gestured to the image. He didn't realize that that was created by his mind.

 

<span style='color:#7A8088'>
The clock was ticking now. Panic began to rise in Sketches heart once again. She had been so sure that Ras would respond to her, but it seemed he was too far gone for her, or Temrin to help with. In the distance she could hear haunting creaking and crunching, no doubt collapsing nerves similar to that which had lead to the loss of Temrin. Ras was subconsciously breaking down, and she knew that it would not be long until her exit would be wrecked as well. With a cry of frustration she turned from Ras’ confinement and began to inch down the paths in the direction she had come. Why had she not marked her way? She felt tears streaming down her face, but continued blindly. The taste of the salty liquid at the corners of her mouth just heightened her panic and partially converted it to pure anger. </span> <span style='color:##BEBEB4'>/Why?/ </span> <span style='color:#7A8088'>She asked herself. </span> <span style='color:##BEBEB4'> /Why do you always have to make stupid decisions? Why did you have to try and help?/. </span> <span style='color:#7A8088'>She searched through her mind for someone to pin the blame on, but could only find herself. While lost in thought, she must have misplaced a paw and unexpectedly lost her footing. As her stomach tied itself into a knot, she was propelled forward, and found herself staring straight down into oblivion with nothing in between. As gravity began to take its toll, slowly and painfully, she let out a horrible scream, similar to that of a young puppy caught in a rabbit snare. She plummeted for what seemed like forever, smashing into numerous thin pathways along the way. The trails seemed to have grown more brittle and dry since they had first set foot in the labyrinth. But by now, Sketch did not care. Her head was full of blind panic as she fell into the darkness…

She felt no impact. Instead she sensed herself drifting in a deep black and indigo world. Around her the haunting song of strange giants hummed softly, at the lowest frequency ever to strike his ears. She could not see them but could sense dark shadows gliding slowly and effortlessly through the space around her.</span> <span style='color:##BEBEB4'> /Poor bastards./ </span> <span style='color:#7A8088'>she thought. </span><span style='color:##BEBEB4'>/Dogs fucked the pope. No fault of mine… just get to the armored car straight away…/</span> <span style='color:#7A8088'>and before she could realize that she did not make sense, she was frozen with a strange dread. Below her an upwards current bubbled, connoting the presence of an enormous form rising from beneath her. She looked down and saw what looked like the ground itself, patterned somewhat like that of a black and blue leopard, rising from below… closer… closer… Sketch felt terrible fear but was paralyzed and could do nothing but watch her fate unfold. Suddenly everything went black. After a moment, a far away pinpoint of white began to grow closer and closer. The light at the end of the tunnel as some may call it. As it grew nearer, she suddenly remembered someone once telling her never to go to the light, so with all her might, she turned away from it and began to run. Run… run… into the blackness, but like a in a dream she felt as if her legs were made of lead. But she did not give up. Exhaustion swept through her but she had no choice but to fight it. And then it all stopped, and she awoke, lying flat on her back. She felt something hard under her back, and reached for it wearily. The object was hard like a stone, cold and circular, with a diameter similar to a hub cap. After a moment her eyes adjusted to the light and began to glow softly, illuminating the object in her hand. The thing was not really an object at all but the most horrid animal she had ever seen. It had a bony shell like a turtle, but instead of soft little flippers, it had twelve long hair legs protruding, each with two sharp claws at the tips. Its had a single orb which may as well serve as an eye that peered furiously from inside the shell, as well as six cone shaped teeth, gnashing viciously. With a yelp she dropped the creature, and it scuttled off into the darkness at remarkable speed. Once Sketches heart rate had returned to a healthy pace, she observed her surroundings. She seemed to be in a massive dark cave. The ceiling and walls were hidden by shadows, so it was impossible to tell how large the room really was, although she feared it may be infinite. Where had she gotten herself now? It didn’t matter. She did not care anymore, for shed had enough horror for one day. All that was on her mind now was Temrin. She had to find her and get out. And so she set off walking slowly in the first direction she faced, and began to call Temrin’s name with all the strength she had left. The weakness of her own voice shocked her, and almost brought her to tears again, but she knew that crying would not solve anything. She got herself into this, and only she could get herself back out. </span>