WE'LL CARRY ON . (open)

[jaquael dorian]

His eyes were opened, yet they stared almost unseeingly in what appeared to be a void of night. No. That could not be right for it had been daylight merely seconds before, and in none of the Realms did daylight become night so swiftly. Perhaps he had somehow stumbled into Azrazel, the realm of eternal twilight. But no, he would have known if he had crossed the border, you always knew whe you crossed the border into that place. Jaq glanced around, something was not right here, his pace quickened yet it felt as if something pulled against him, slowing him down and making his pace nothing more than a crawl. But no. That could not be happening, something was following him, for he could hear it now. Slight footsteps, which - if he listened hard enough - betrayed a foe that was fleet of foot, careful to make little sound. Why, Jaquael had been lucky to even hear his pursuer, and now he was in trouble for he could not move fast enough, and his weight became harder and harder to bear. What was wrong?

Suddenly, something snapped at his ankle and he felt his balance shift as he tilted forward, unable to stop himself he plumeted toward he soft sandy ground. Only, now it was no longer soft, but hard as concrete. Marble? Where was he? Softly, laughter faded in, a gradual climax of a bitter and maniacle sound, the laughter made Jaq scramble to his feet and try to run away, but he couldn't, something held him. Glancing down, a candlelight now showed a dense chain around his ankle. Chained. Prisoner.

He had to get out.

He woke with a start. His pulse raced and his breath was heavy and shallow, the air of the cold night was sweet on his lungs yet at the same time, his throat rejected its taste. It was foreign, and it was too clear, he could taste no dense jungle here. Perhaps it was the air that gave him these strange dreams, for every time he ventured from his homeland into Edil-Amandrah, strange dreams of capture and laughter plauged his mind. Was it some sort of prophecy? Or was it purely a warning? Would Jaquael be captured for some unknown reason and thrown into jail? It was always the same dream, captured by an unknown pursuer and then finding himself in a jail, laughter of that same pursuer echoing over him. Jaq silently shook his head and cursed his foolishness, dreams were dreams. That was all there was to it.

"I mus' be goin' craze' in my ol' age." He muttered to himself, silently shaking his head as he rearranged the blankets around him. This room that he rented never ceased to terrify him when he woke, it was so different and yet at the same time it was so familiar. Butit was never home, and after a nightmare such as the one that had just plauged him he would have liked nothing more than to walk in the forest, to feel the calm of his home around him and to feel the familiarity of trunks and trails. Jaq breathed a small sigh, tomorrow he would travel home, back to all he knew, so he could run freely in his animal forms and not be regarded with disdain by others. The Malaki pretended to tolerate, but they were like glass, their intentions clear as diamond. They tolerated, but they would never accept, so Jaq never looked for what he could not recieve. Eihaer could never be his home, and he never looked for it to be.

Try as he may, sleep would not come to him, even his pulse continued to race. He had to go for a walk, that would calm him down. Jaquael nodded to himself, sneaking from the door with a silence that graced his people. As soon as he stepped from the cofines of the building he felt some tension ease from his body, Jaq did not do well in confined areas, he would prowl like a caged animal, his temper would become shorter and he would often burst out in irrational fits of anger. Yes, he was one Varmi who did not fare well in crowds. "Well thas' no su'prise." The words were spoken in a soft growl as he prowled around the streets. Aye, he was Taravehan born and bred, until he was back within the forests, no place would be as safe as home was.