I see a stairway, so I follow it down Who: Cheila & Laurent Where: Cheila's subconscious When: Night-time. Ish. Just to be specific.
It didn’t matter that the walls were metres away from her, that the ceiling was impossibly high above her head, if there at all. She could still feel the bars of the cage that wasn’t there pressing against her arms and back, the weight of cuffs and chains about her wrists drawing her attention to bite marks that were fresh and open despite being years old. Sat in the middle of one of the rooms she once shared with her family in Greece, Cheila desperately tried to unravel the chronology, knowing that if she could undo the knot she had found herself in, she could reach the end. There was no real structure, physical or otherwise, in her surroundings. Nothing seemed to want to remain the same. The invisible bars and restraints never left, but the rest shifted periodically. The room in the temple gave way to her box in the boat that was somehow bigger than she remembered it but unbearably claustrophobic, then flickered back before thrusting her back into the cage itself. Everything was pulled straight from her memory with a lack of familiarity that betrayed Cheila’s state of mind at the time more than it did that none of it was real -- something she had never been able to take away from dreams upon waking. She just knew, somehow, that if she could wait it all out this time she would find the end.
The end was what mattered.
If she could ignore the ever changing backdrop, the screams from events she knew had already happened, the faceless vampires that seemed to edge closer without ever moving. Everything was static, but at the same time Cheila was being propelled forward. “It’s too fast,” she told nobody in particular, head tilting back to rest against the bars that weren't there. She was in Greece again, the walls bouncing the tone of defeat back at her. There was someone missing. A small absence, but one she felt she should remember. Wings. But she was stuck at the beginning again, bound and caged in a boat with no air. And she couldn't find the end if they kept moving her. Pulling her knees up against her chest, ankles crossed, she felt her stomach lurch as something took a sharp turn. Her wrist was bleeding and she didn’t understand the language they spoke.
There were vampires flooding the temple again.
Another night when Laurent had decided to just let himself go to wander the dreams of Scarlet Oak. He had never been that fond of the rain that had decided to fall outside, declining the offer of an extra shift at Heme in favor of staying at home and relaxing with whatever dreams happened to come his way. Or rather, the ones he came across. It was true that wandering at night meant he would not find himself seeing the dreams of many of his own kind but he did not mind that terribly much. No one said he could not lose himself in the dream world for several days if he so desired. He had done it for years at a time when he was younger and after Rae left, taking breaks only to feed, and a stretch of a few days where the rules of reality simply did not exist could be just what he needed. Though that dream about flying around on stars made out of cherries while the planets were made of ice cream was just a little bit too much for him. Definitely not his sort of dream. Plenty more out there though and - wait. A frown creased his brow as he glanced around where he was now. It seemed like some sort of a temple, almost, Grecian in build. But it felt terrifying. Where were those feelings coming from?
The dreamer. His eyes darted around the room until he found the only other person in there. A young blonde who seemed to be completely and utterly terrified of something he could not even see. Glancing down at himself, Laurent was a little surprised to find that he was wearing something that looked a lot like a robe. Fit in with the dreamer. Before he could say anything he heard something outside of the room; like there were people trying to be quiet. Quite a few people. Quite a few people who lacked heartbeats. Vampires? Laurent turned back towards the girl, not surprised when he was closer than he remembered, though the terror was still like to overwhelm. A nightmare, then. “What’s happening, little one?” Perhaps odd to say to someone who did not look like they were that much younger than Laurent appeared to be, but mortal dreamers were always ‘little’ to him, and she really was not all that big. Just terrified and he wanted to know why. Mostly because he was now in this dream and, knowing himself, would not leave until he had figured it out. You’re going to try to fix it. Potentially that too.
She never had counted them. Never had the chance to stop and work out what had happened. Her sisters still stood out as clear as day. White-blonde torches swallowed by what had become a dark cloud of creatures, impossible to count and only identifiable as vampires because the presence of fangs and everything they brought fogged everything over. Somewhere, Dashiell screamed -- she couldn’t remember if he actually had -- but Cheila continued to stare at the new face, wide-eyed. Only those she knew and could truly remember ever had faces. Did she know him? Was he one of the attendants? Some kind of priest... She needed to ask her mother--No, couldn’t ask mother because they could not be disturbed. One hand grabbing an invisible bar, the other reached out in a silent plea for help and her teeth bit into her lip. Had he been there the whole time? A glance over her shoulder -- she knew they were behind her, they always had been -- “They’re taking us,” she answered. Her voice cracked as hands grabbed her, hauling her to her feet despite the bars. Lightning cracked outside and she kicked back against whoever was handling her. Didn’t they know she hated to be touched?
Glancing around the rest of the room, Laurent noticed that there were others and somewhere someone had screamed. A sound that sent a chill he should not feel right down his back. As did the fact that, when he peered back past this girl he could see figures. Figures without faces. Now Laurent had seen a lot of nightmares in his time, the worst in his opinion always coming during times of war, but this was different. There was no war to explain it away and there was no real explanation at all, for that matter. Nor did he understand why that woman’s hand had closed around thin air. Unless she was caged in something that he was unable to see. “Whose-” Before the question could get all the way out, he saw for himself. The faceless figures were reaching for and grabbing her. No, that should not happen, even in a nightmare. Laurent hated nightmares for this very reason - things happened that should never come to pass. Even if they were based off of true events which was... a terrible thought. But it isn’t right. That thought was enough for Laurent to justify stepping more fully into the nightmare, making himself a part of it. True that meant he was as vulnerable as everything else there but it was only a dream, it would only hurt a little while. It did not take much to move from where he was to where the figure had grabbed the woman who clearly did not like being touched. Snapping necks had never been something Laurent enjoyed but it tended to work well on vampires in a pinch and at least it cause this one to release her. “You should get out of the cage,” Laurent advised, turning back towards her. “Right there you’re a shining target.” There had been other flashes of blonde hair but they were as much a part of it as the faceless figures and this one was important because it was her dream - nightmare.
Flinching at the crack, Cheila automatically began to fold in on herself. Gods, why could she hear that? She could not recall ever having borne witness to that, and she pushed away the fact that not everything she could not remember stayed hidden in the background. “This--this isn’t how it...” Stopping, she looked around, confused as to whether or not they were going to come back for her. She half expected the scene to unfold again -- she had never just been left before, they never went without her because that wasn’t how it happened -- but there was nothing. The feeling of there being another over her shoulder wasn’t going away, but there was no Air in here to fill the spaces with-- Where was her element? “This isn’t right.” Nothing about it was. Even the facts were wrong. “I’m not supposed to still be here. You--I don’t know who you are,” she informed him, making a point of not looking at the dead -- was it dead? Was it wrong of her to hope it was? -- vampire behind her. “I need to be...” Her sentence trailed off as she tried to figure out the boundaries of her apparent cage before realising there were none. It changed shape and size as she straightened up, letting everything in but nothing out. She was free to move around, but she would never be free of it completely. That much Cheila was certain of. “I can’t.” She needed to follow her siblings. Because that was the way they went and the only way she was ever going to get to the end was to follow the same path. So she began to follow the same route out, stepping through and over any shades of dead priests and attendants that had been left in the vampires’ wake... Straight onto the boat, her memory of the interim having been completely suppressed. Faceless humans -- elementals, psychics -- all locked in cages and boxes. There was a breeze coming from one of them, and she automatically drifted towards it. How did you open it? She was supposed to be inside. “You don’t need to be here,” she said quietly, both to herself-in-the-box and the stranger. For a moment, she wanted to search the rest of the boat for her family or anyone else she knew -- but only this section existed. Everything else ended where she did.
The terror was not fleeing. The faceless figures were gone, the screaming had stopped, everything seemed to have stilled but this woman in front of him was more confused now than ever. And if things were not right then this was not simply a nightmare as Laurent had come to know them over due exposure. It was a nightmare created from memory. It was like with Odette when she dreamed of home and no matter what he did it always followed the same path. Things would always go the same way because the dreamer was convinced that it had to, because that was what had really happened and they did not know it was a nightmare, not reality. Laurent felt a pang at the realization that this was all created out of memory but before he could say a single word he felt himself being tugged and he was following along with the woman in the cage that was not really a cage. And where were they...? Laurent’s stomach twisted as he looked around them, catching his footing on what he guessed was a boat. And she was still there, looking at a box that seemed surrounded by breezes that came from nowhere. Are you an air elemental? “No, I don’t,” Laurent agreed as he stood next to her, trying not to look at the faceless people in the other cages. Cages. Vampires had done this. He had never felt so ashamed of his own race as he did then. “But I am because you are. Where is here? Why are we here?” He had to ask even if she did not know the answer, as part of him was beginning to think might very well be the case.
“I’m always here,” Cheila said, fingers sweeping through the breeze the other her -- the one who was supposed to be in the box... which was actually the same her... -- had created. “I’m in there. Meant to be.” Her expression arranged itself into a confused frown. “You’ve never been here before.” It was easy enough for her to block out the other caged people. She had barely known they were there. They were the background noise that had reminded her that all of this was real. “A boat... Ship...” she started as a shriek sounded from the end of the vessel that had fallen from existence, followed by the screams of several others. “Leaving Greece. I think.” Another very feminine scream and a blast of heat, the tail-end of which reached them in time for Cheila’s distress to surface. “They put her in a metal box after that,” she said, making a point of looking at the stranger and not at the ghosts of vampires that moved past them to answer calls for help. “She was a fire elemental.” A jerk in the scenario, and she gave a small cry of pain, finding herself pulled out of the box she wasn’t in by the back of her neck and immediately bundled into a larger cage by a window because she had blacked out in between rooms. “We’re going to sink.” She pointed to the sky. “The storm...” Automatically zoning out -- playing the part -- she started to hum, content to just wait.
Always here? No, there was something wrong about that too. Deeply wrong and unsettling. Yes, Laurent had spent a great many days in the dream world instead of living as he knew he should but at least the dreams had varied. He had not been stuck in the same one. He had not been living solely in something that was past. This had to be the past if they were leaving Greece since he had not wandered past the dreams of Scarlet Oak. Were they speaking Greek? Potentially. One of the things he had learned early on was that whatever language was spoken by the dreamer was the one that made sense. After all, her dream and her rules. Even if he was becoming less of a fan as he heard more about it. Somethings wrong with you, little elemental. What is it? “No, but I’m here now and I want to help you.” Somehow. That had to be possible, right? Why he actually cared he was not sure he could say except perhaps that there was something in her manner that was almost childish, nearly innocent. Innocence should not be stolen and caged. Neither should fire elementals. Something in his very nature screamed out against anyone of his own race - yes, occasionally he classed himself among their ranks instead of the Azraelan - being put into a metal cage. “That is awful,” Laurent said to himself only just before they moved again. “Sinking?” Oh please, no, he hated swimming. “And why are you content to just sink, little elemental, why don’t you talk to the storm? You’re air, you must be.” Or was that it. Did she want to sink? Was it better than what was waiting for her? I couldn’t just find a dream with rainbows and fluffy kittens, I had to fall into a psychological trauma manifested as a nightmare. Something that happened who knew when. He needed to focus on something else if only for a moment. “What’s your name?”
“Cheila.” It was about the only thing he had said that she had either understood or fully acknowledged. It did not make sense for him to want to help her. He couldn’t change any of it. He could interfere with it -- she knew he was actually succeeding in that, because the fear that had originally caused that storm was not something she was feeling. She was feeling confused, but nevertheless determined to make it to the end. There were things waiting for her. Important things. People, maybe. Family? She remained ever hopeful, but the idea weighed down on her like she knew the water was going to try to. “Talk to them?” She blinked at him, eyes turning away from bite marks that were bleeding despite her not having been bitten. “I caused them. This is how it goes.” Why didn’t he understand that? How could he be here to help when he did not know what was happening? “It was an accident,” she clarified as the lightning flashed several times in quick succession, leaving the elemental trying to cover her ears to block out the panic that erupted. She continued to watch him, her attention glossing over the faceless vampires that rushed up and down the boat opening the doors for their merchandise. They weren’t much good if they were dead. But the water was flooding faster than she remembered and she pushed open the unlocked cage door with a rising panic. Reaching to grab the stranger’s hand -- he didn’t know how to help, he didn’t even know the way -- she waded through water that was far, far too cold for her liking to the deck. “That ship picked us up,” she pointed out the lit vessel not too far off in the distance and tried to ignore the heat from the burning boat they had yet to leave. Except the scenery was changing again; glimpses of being pulled from the water, spluttering, the next boat just like the last, then an arena. Auction. Winds were already picking up, but she wasn’t sure it was her doing. “Can we stop now? I’m tired.” She wasn’t watching the others being sold off, hadn’t noticed Rick -- the only other vampire with a face -- leering at her. She wanted to sit down. Maybe sleep.
That was a pretty name, Cheila. Laurent was going to have to make sure to remember it. Along with the face that went along with it, though he wished that it was not one that seemed to flit between terror and something else so often. How was he supposed to change a nightmare when it was crafted from history and clearly so deeply embedded in her that things happened without her making them? Things continued on in the same pattern that they needed to because she was making them do it. If it was going to change she needed to make it and Laurent was truly starting to believe that maybe that was never going to happen. Maybe she did not want it to happen. Heart-breaking, that such a beautiful face would go through this again and again and again. Why was her neck bleeding? Laurent stopped himself from reaching up to touch the small puncture wounds, only just succeeding in stopping because Cheila was pulling him off through the water. “I hate being wet,” a muttered remark she hopefully did not hear because she had bigger concerns. Like - they were soaked and standing in the middle of... an arena? “What is wrong with these people?” Laurent’s voice was practically a hiss and he glared around the arena, eyes narrowed on all of the vampires and non-vampires that he saw there. Buying people as though they were cattle! No, that was not how it was supposed to be, that was worse than slavery! His anger was building and he just... he did not understand. There’s nothing to understand. “We can leave if you want.” He stepped between Cheila and the crowd, reminding himself very firmly that it was a dream and therefore he could not actually hurt them. Violence was not in his nature anymore anyhow. “Where would you like to go? I know of some very pretty places where no one gets hurt or bitten by anything. Much better than here.” He did not want to know what happened next.
“Which people?” Cheila’s eyes widened slightly at that display of anger, not certain where it was coming from or why. This -- all of this -- was happening, had already happened, and she didn’t understand it because parts were missing and sometimes the order changed, but that was just how it was. Even if he stood between her and whoever everyone else was. She peered around him as a fight broke out -- the fight that should have sparked her panic and caused the storm -- and tried to edge around him and away from them. They were in the wrong place, but she still remembered how much they liked those around them to join in. “Leave?” Confusion coloured her thoughts long enough for her to miss her name being called by her collector. “But we don’t know where we were.” And in order to get someplace, you needed to know where you were first. Though she was only supposing he did not know where they were because she did not. He was only here because she was -- was that what he said? He did not seem to know as much about it as she did. Why would he, he wasn’t there the first time round or any other time. “I want to go home,” she admitted quietly, lips pressing together as her eyes began to tear up. “But Rick’s going to get angry if I don’t go with him.” A unified scream from the twins rang out across the arena and Cheila’s face turned ashen. “Too much.” Falling into a crouch, she rested her face against her knees, palms pressed to the floor. “Home, but there’s nobody there.”
All of them. Something was wrong with every last person who was there selling a person or buying one. Which was worse? Laurent could not decide and nor did he want to devote a large amount of his time or effort to doing so. What he did know was that if he ever caught word of something like this happening he was getting the police and the Styx and seeing whether or not it could continue past that. His bets were on a firm ‘no’. Ears perked up slightly at the sound of this woman’s name - Cheila Elias - and he wondered why she did not hear. Though he was glad she did not. His own mouth tightened when he saw that there were tears in her eyes and he could feel the emotions rolling off of her in waves; only growing worse at the sound of screams that matched in pitch and voice. This was all, all of it, terrible. And Cheila said she was always here? How could she sleep? Laurent glanced around the arena, feeling as though he was looking in on a movie where something awful happened and there was not a thing that could be done. Only this was not a movie. It was a nightmare. Of things that had happened but still nothing more than that and no one should suffer through this when they slept. Crouching down, Laurent carefully touched Cheila’s head. “My name is Laurent Rousseau and trust me, if you let go of this you can be anywhere else, any time else. Okay? Somewhere happier. Somewhere less...” Disturbing. Awful. Wrong. “Home is Greece, right? Take us there. Or anywhere. You don’t have to be here again.” Again because she had already lived through it and nothing would change the reality of that. But who had to face reality in a dream? Sometimes a conscious choice could be made.
Ducking her head at the contact -- she did not know him -- Cheila blinked up at him, one dusty hand wiping tears away. “A nice name,” she commented distractedly, trying to find something she could keep a hold of while everything else seemed to wheel around her. Everything except him. She was even trying to understand why he was so confusing and so concrete at the same time. “But this is how I get to the end. I can’t let it go.” She had come this far, hadn’t they? Both of them had, he was there too. She couldn’t just drop it all and give up. Her parents never would; she knew that much. “There isn’t anyone at home. They’re all... all...” She paused, eyeing the vampire that looked like he was coming to get her. “They’re not in Greece any more. And I don’t know how to take us anywhere. If I’m not here then I can’t...” The weather was changing, born out of confusion and distress. Standing slowly, she tried to pull Laurent aside -- away -- as the storms picked up unnaturally fast. “This is not right...” Again. For a moment, she closed her eyes and waited for everything to start all over again. Right from the beginning because she’d done it wrong. She opened them in time to see Rick hit by lightning. “This didn’t happen.” She had killed him again. It was her fault. All of the blame was hers this time. “I want to go now.” Except she had no idea how and it was only fuelling the weather.
Yes, it was a very nice name and Laurent prided himself on it. Though it seemed a ridiculous thing to focus on right then when everything else was a whirling mess of... who even knew what? He did not. Things seemed to be unstable and Cheila seemed unstable herself. True, that was not surprising in an air elemental, but... it was a dream. Anyone she wanted could be at home. Her younger self could be at home if she so desired. Laurent looked around at the whirl of things happening and decided - it needed to be over. She needed to not be here. And, after that man with the face had been struck by lightning, Cheila admitted that she did not want to be here. Good. “Good, come with me.” Laurent had seen how she recoiled from his touch so he just knelt there and focused. It was easy to pick the threads of the nightmare apart, even if parts of it were stuck extremely well. Nightmares made from memories tended to be quite a bit like that. Although Cheila was no vampire so she had not had enough time to set herself up. Focus. And then, when Laurent opened his eyes, he smiled. It was not Greece because he did not know what part she was from but it was much better than where they had been. A meadow with a forest on the edge and in the distance there were two children at play; a boy and a girl with dark hair who seemed fascinated by the flickering flames on the hands of the latter. It took focus, but this was the closest to a dream that Laurent could get. “This is better, isn’t it? Peaceful. The countryside of France once upon a time. Plenty of fresh air and that over there is two little fire elementals at play. Did you play a lot when you were a child?” He turned his most charming smile on her, hoping that perhaps she could do as dreamers did and forget what had been happening before. “I imagine you must have; all the air elementals I’ve known are playful.”
“I’m confused.” Which meant a lot more from Cheila when spoken aloud. She knew she was often confused in one way or another, but to to the extent that she ever felt she needed to state it. People often seemed ready to explain things to her before she reached that stage, the expression on her face being something of a tell. But Laurent seemed to know what was going on, so she accepted that there had been a change and... Her trail of thought stopped there as she realised her clothes had changed. Her long white dress from earlier in the day -- though it wasn’t soaked through from the rain -- and her too-big hoodie that covered right down to her fingertips. “It’s pretty,” she agreed as she stood, tugging the hood over her head and the collar up over her nose. She didn’t understand how everything had changed, but was content to let it continue as it was. Nobody was dying. This was new and she didn’t know what happened next. If anything. “Yes. We played with Air. And each other... Does playing with your element count?... We’re all elementals. Except father. Who isn’t really my father but I think only Caelia remembers what happened to ours. We got a new one and then we had a brother and twin sisters. Mother is an air elemental too,” she added, tucking her chin back over the collar and beaming. “You have a nice smile.” The twins would think so -- she wanted to show them. “I’ve never been to France. Just the temple, Texas and... Scarlet Oak?” Was that the name of the town? “Oh, and places between Texas and Scarlet Oak... we walked. Mostly. I think.” She was forgetting parts that didn’t need forgetting. But she was also vaguely preoccupied with watching the children.
Laurent smiled at the revelation that Cheila thought it was pretty here. It really was, and leagues better than where they had just been. Hopefully she had forgotten about that because it was technically her dream so if she decided she wanted it changed then it would. Just because Laurent was an Azraelan who had been working at this for hundreds of years did not mean that his will was always the stronger. Nodding as Cheila explained that yes she had played with her element and the others, Laurent tried to imagine that instead of what he had seen. It went so much better with her face than tears. "Playing with your element always counts. I did it all of the time before I was turned.” And then he had tried to do so after being turned and it had gone terribly. He still had the burn marks to prove it. “And thank you. Maybe I’ll get to see you smile too, I think it must be beautiful.” He was not even trying to be flattering, he really meant it. People who gave off the vibe that Cheila did were meant to smile. “Scarlet Oak, yes, I know that place.” Seeing that she was watching the children he stepped forward and looked over his shoulder. “Do you want to say hello? They’re very friendly.” Polite, actually, as had been deemed necessary by his mother. “Maybe they can show you a fire trick if you show them something with air.” Getting her to play with her element was another idea of how to keep her from thinking about something bad before she woke up. Chances were she would not even remember this dream, but Laurent could hope.
Distracted from the landscape by the realisation there was actually wind here, Cheila’s brow furrowed in concentration. There had been no wind, no real Air in the other places -- one of the many reasons she didn’t like it -- but there was definitely wind here. As scatterbrained as she knew she could be, she was perplexed when she couldn’t pinpoint which direction it was coming from. Cheila always knew which of the winds was blowing. How else would she know which god to thank? “You lost your element?” She was nearing heartbroken for him and stared with obvious horror. Of course she knew that there were no vampire elementals. It was the kind of connection that was severed with death. But the idea of losing her own element even for immortality -- which she didn’t think she wanted anyway -- made her fidget with the ends of her sleeves. The remark about her smile made her abandon her sleeves in favour of almost awkwardly tangling the fingers of one hand in the ends of her hair. Her hood fell back. That wasn’t her intention, but it didn’t occur to her to put it back on again. “Mother’s smile is best,” she answered quietly, not completely ignorant to the fact she was trying to dodge the compliment. “And Aurora has this little moment -- she’s blind -- when she realises you’re there and her face lights up...” Tucking her hair behind her ears, she smiled despite her attempt at evading comments on her appearance. It didn’t really matter what anybody said, she would always be completely oblivious to how she looked to everyone else. Her mother and sisters were beautiful. She was just Cheila. “You do? I don’t know it very well. I got lost... yesterday? The other day, maybe.” She couldn’t remember, but the girl had had beautiful red hair. She looked at the children, nose wrinkling. She didn’t want to disturb them if they were busy. For all she knew they were practicing -- which shouldn’t really be disturbed no matter how much the students look like they’re just playing around. “They won’t mind?” For a moment, just a moment, she hesitated. The last time she had been placed alongside a fire elemental someone had died. More than one someone, really, but the others weren’t their fault. Nodding her agreement -- she wanted to meet the children -- Cheila tilted her head to one side. There were breezes, breezes that were picking up to tug at her hair and clothes... but she couldn’t hear Air. Or she could, but it was that muted whispering she had to actively listen to (which was difficult because it required her full attention). Like when all the doors and windows had been shut. And the whispers weren’t actually saying anything. Do the Gods and elements always have to have something to say? … Well, no. I think Mother would say no.
The look of horror on Cheila’s face gave Laurent a moment to pause and think about it. There had been something missing, he could remember that, a distinct lack of heat that had always been around. And of course there was the fact that he could not call about sparks when he wanted, could not hold fire in his bare palms. Glancing down at his hands he could see the multitude of scars on his palms from where he had tried to do just that. A frown flitted across his face before he closed them and placed them in his pockets. “It’s alright, I’ve had a very long time to get used to it.” Even if he still loved that rush of warmth that he got whenever he tasted his own blood type. Ah well, a thought for another time. That little version of himself over there had yet to lose his element and seemed to be enjoying himself with his sister plenty fine. This was no specific memory, just a vague one of things that they had done when they were younger. I do miss you, he thought at the little version of his sister. Some wounds even time did not heal, but he was not here for that. The goal was to keep Cheila from her own nightmare while she slept at least for one night. Even if he did not really know her it had become his goal.
“Is Aurora your sister or friend?” Laurent asked as they started off across the meadow. “And see, your smile is very pretty.” He pulled a mirror out of his pocket that had not been there a moment before just to show her a flash of her reflection. At least, he thought that her smile was pretty. Whether or not she agreed was a completely different matter. One thing he had learned about women was that they could be so odd when it came to their physical appearances. “Yeah, I do, but getting lost if your new is pretty easy.” Especially if you’re an air elemental who likely has her head in the clouds. “Of course they won’t mind, they like showing off.” It took only a moment to reach them and Laurent knelt down to be on a level, watching as they giggled and played with the fire. “This is Laurent, say hello to the pretty lady, Laurent.” The dream image of his younger self flashed a smile up at Cheila and waved, hand covered in some sort of oil and flames. Reaching out to touch a dark curl of the girl’s hair, Laurent smiled wistfully. “And this beautiful young woman is Madeleine.” She giggled, just like she always had whenever anyone called her beautiful. His memory was very clear on things like that. "It's not a lesson, they're just playing out here so they don't get yelled at for lighting their brother on fire again. Even if he deserves it, right?"
“I couldn’t do that,” Cheila answered honestly. She knew full well that the reason she could still function as she did now was the sanctuary her element had given her. Without it she would never have survived the past five years. Somewhere in her head, something clicked back into place. Mostly her grasp on the present. She had no idea where she was, or any idea when she was. But she knew when she was supposed to be. “How old are you?” It was sometimes considered rude to ask people their age -- usually women, apparently -- but it was a harmless question, so she didn’t see what the fuss was about. “My sister. I don’t think I have many friends.” Her eyes cast themselves up to the sky while she tried to work out if she actually had any friends recently. The answer was no, but it was alright because she had her family. “I knew a Finder. Father’s a Finder too. And I have a familiar called Lala.” Why was she telling him that? She wasn’t entirely sure, but it was relevant to the question in a rambling sort of way so she didn’t see the harm in it. The reflection the mirror showed her was just one of her smiling -- Cheila didn’t see what was pretty about it, ignoring the fact that all proper smiles were pretty. She didn’t think she was ugly. It was just her face and she happened to be smiling. “Thank you...” And if she sounded shy it was because she was. She never had learned how to react properly to compliments from people who weren’t family. Regardless, the high spirits of the children were infectious and she found herself grinning, automatically waving back, “My name is Cheila.” She wasn’t sure anybody deserved to be set on fire, but then she had done just that herself with that fire elemental, so she really had no right to pass comment. “I used to blow things over a lot,” she admitted, “And mess up people’s hair.” Cheila paused, looking between the little boy and the vampire. “You still smile the same way,” she informed the latter in a whisper, even if now he had fangs. She didn’t need their names to realise they were the same person. It was visible. Either that or he had had a son who just looked a lot like him.
Laurent nodded. Quite a few elementals felt that way and he imagined that if he had progressed much farther than where he had then it would have been harder for him. But it had been a different time and he and Madeleine had not actually known what they were. Just that they could play with fire in ways that they should not. “Then you shall stay an air elemental forever.” No vampire should seek to change that, nor a were, and he realized that he would be saddened if he learned that such a thing came to pass. “Oh, I’m... 268 if I remember correctly. The years can get a little tangled after awhile and I lost quite a few of them when I was younger, after my sister died.” An unpleasant topic and the ground shifted under his feet for a moment before he stilled the emotions in his mind, knowing that if he did not this would vanish and they might well return to where they had been before. With the children smiling and Cheila going right along with it, it was not terribly hard for him to remember that the goal here was to be happy. “I’m sure that your familiar is lovely and perhaps we can be friends, then you’ll have someone you know if you get lost again.” He chuckled at imagining how an air elemental might play as a child. He had never really known one of them when they were young. “Yes,” Laurent agreed, ruffling the dream version of himself’s hair. “My smile never really changed as I got older. Except the fangs.” He ran his tongue over the tip of one and shrugged. The children had returned to playing, though Madeleine was leaning against Cheila for support she likely did not need. She had always been partial to being physically close with people when she was younger, and older for that matter. “Do you only have one sister? And the Finder father.” Laurent had never met an actual Finder.
“Oh... I’m sorry.” Cheila looked up at him with a sad sort of smile before reacting as she did in reality; the wind changed direction and took her trail of thought with it, wiping that slate clean. “I’m twenty-eight.” And she hoped she would be an elemental for as long as she lived, but she didn’t think that would be forever. That simply wasn’t possible. Everything had its end. Even vampires. “She’s only this big,” one hand rose, finger and thumb stopping in front of one eye about two inches apart. “It’s funny because all of my family has a bird-familiar, but she’s the most likely to get blown away.” And though she couldn’t quite set fire to her hand the way the children could, she still held her other hand out palm up, slowly pulling the winds in the direction she wanted them to go. Which was... harder to do when she was talking, but it wasn’t stopping her from doing either. “That would be nice.” He was a nice man, vampire or not. “The fangs suit you though.” She briefly wondered if there were vampires who looked wrong with fangs. If maybe not everybody’s teeth were made to sit alongside them. “I have three sisters and a brother,” Cheila answered with a fond smile, the winds she was calling twisting themselves into a whirlwind the size of her forearm, based in the centre of her palm although the wind speed everywhere else was rather unaffected. “Barnabas isn’t really my real father, but I don’t remember what happened to him.” Or even his name. “He’s telepathic too. He’s not very well right now, but mother says he’ll be fine.” She was trying very hard to believe that.
It was refreshing to feel the wind changing like that and Laurent suspected that it came from Cheila. Even if it was just a dream it could still be affected the same as the real world. Momentarily he wondered if she knew that this was a dream, or if it even mattered to her. She was potentially one of those people who could know something without actually acknowledging it. Laurent liked those people, actually, they were like... aha, a breath of fresh air. “Twenty-eight? That’s around the age that I was. So as far as anyone can see we’re the same age!” He was always a little amused at how that worked out. He could have, literally, several centuries on someone and look no older than they did despite all that he went through. “And thank you, I think they do as well.” What did not suit him was a face-full of blood. Hence why he was so glad that bottled blood had caught on. Far more civilized and simple to drink that way. A family of five, possibly all air elementals... oh what fun that would be. Did they ever get anything done without flitting off everywhere? Laurent’s smile did fade a little when Cheila said there was something wrong with her father, or step-father, whatever this Barnabas was. “What’s wrong with him, if I may ask? Perhaps I know someone who could help.”
Had anyone pointed out to Cheila that she was actually dreaming, she would have simply nodded in acknowledgement. It would have explained a number of things. Why Air’s whisperings had that funny muted sound, why Laurent could be here twice, why her familiar wasn’t here, why these winds were continuing to churn in the direction she drew them even when she was no longer concentrating on it, the whirlwind growing bigger until she had to cast it away from them -- but with none of the gale-force winds that should have accompanied it or any real destruction. All of them were things she had noticed separately but never put together because she saw no need to. “Oh, but you’ve seen much more than me. I’m just a priestess. I grew up in that temple.” She didn’t include the past five years in her list of things she’d seen. Seeing things you didn’t want to didn’t count. So, really, she had only seen the temple and then the journey up to Scarlet Oak. Cheila’s face arranged itself into a delicate frown again, although as time passed it was more obvious that her features objected to the expression being there at all. But the subject of her father’s health was one that she remembered almost every detail she had been told about. Almost. “Something to do with demons?” She gave a shrug that indicated how little she understood. “I wasn’t here -- I think I was on my way here, but... No, I don’t really know what happened. Mother says he is better than he was, though.” Or maybe someone else had said that. No, she was sure it was Diana. And the fact he was better than he had been meant he had to get better all the way, right? Despite the nagging doubt, her mentality wouldn’t accept anything but the best case scenario. “He’s not-- I don’t think he’s hurt, he’s just... not right.” She chewed on her lip. Saying that out loud didn’t sit well with her.
A... priestess? Laurent blinked, slightly confused now for a change of pace. Had priestesses not gone out of style centuries ago? Even in his time they were not around. Though he had to admit that he could not remember ever visiting Greece so perhaps they were still back in that religion? Clearly, Laurent, or else she would not be saying that she’s a priestess. Ghosts don’t dream anymore than I do. Did they? No, that would be impossible, they were incapable of sleeping in the same way as he was. “A priestess for which god?” he asked, genuinely curious. Perhaps that would be something he researched the next time he was unable to find a dream that kept him interested. Perhaps he could even find out where exactly in Greece she had come from. For all he knew she was from a remote village that had not kept up with the changing times at all. There were spots like that all over the world. “Oh,” Laurent said, understanding suddenly showing on his face. Demons and telepaths were one of the things that should never mix. Something about their thoughts being so dark and twisted that they assaulted the telepath to a degree where they were unable to even think straight. Judging off of what Cheila had said about her father that seemed to be true and Laurent felt a pang for her. His hand itched to reach out and pat her shoulder or something but she had reacted poorly to being touched so he did not. “Perhaps time will help to heal him then.” That was all that they could really hope for. Laurent did not know if modern medicine had anything to help with demon-related effects. Magic, maybe? “Do you know any white witches? Perhaps they could do something for him. Unfortunately, I do not." He did know a few blood witches. Oh, wait, they were dead by now. Huh.
“The Anemoi,” Cheila answered perfectly matter-of-factly. She knew she would probably have to explain it to him and she was fully prepared to receive a strange look for it. She had explained it to everyone who had escaped from that building with her and every one of them had given her the same look. It didn’t bother her. They were not like her and could not be expected to understand. “The gods of the winds. Boreas, Notus, Eurus and Zephyrus. Mother is the High Priestess and Caelia will be after her... Well, might be. I don’t know. We don’t live in the temple any more. We live in Scarlet Oak... Which doesn’t have any scarlet oaks.” She caught the expression that flashed on his face and the winds dropped, part of her not willing to keep up something she knew deep down was just a pretense. He knew about the demons better than she did. “My older sister is a white witch and an elemental.” Which meant that Caelia had possibly already tried to help or helped as much as she could. She had been there longer than Cheila. “He’s not going to get completely better, is he? Even if he gets better than he is now. He won’t be back to normal.” Watching her toes for a moment, she pressed her lips together and the seriousness washed off her face again. “But I can still be around to help.” She wasn’t going to voice that now her concerns lay with her mother and the youngest three. Airheaded or not, she was still a big sister. “How much of this am I going to remember?” Was it better to remember the truth or forget it? She wasn’t certain.
The gods of the wind. Cheila was right in assuming that Laurent would not know what she was talking about because he did not in the slightest. His family had believed in the Christian God as was common in his time and after his death he had believed in nothing. Though Cheila seemed to have more than just a base knowledge of them and when she stated them so easily, adding in who was their High Priestess and who would follow after, he just accepted it as fact. “And so you and your other siblings with remain priestesses? Oh, and priest of course, for your brother.” He imagined that if they were close then they were not the sort to break off to form their own temples or however that might work. That, and in the common world temples were not exactly the most welcome in some places, or the best of ideas. What if no one came to worship? They might never eat. “I think there might be scarlet oaks when the autumn comes. You’ll have to stick around and see, maybe I’ll bring you a leaf to prove it.” Maybe it would make her smile. Something that she might need judging off of the assumption she had just made. One that Laurent could not, in any way that seemed truthful, deny. Because he was not a witch nor a doctor and he had never focused much on demons. “He could, Cheila, I can’t know for sure. I just know that telepaths shouldn’t be near demons. For all anyone knows he might be normal again anytime now and there’s a chance he might not be.” As for her next question... Laurent shrugged and glanced down, noticing that he had lost his grip in his concern and the children versions of himself and Madeleine had vanished. Too bad, he had enjoyed watching them at play and it was the closest he could get to seeing his sister. “You might remember some of this. You might remember me.” He tilted his head at her. “I could always come and tell you again if you’d like. Someone like you can’t be all that hard to find.”
“I think so? I want to. I don’t think I’d be very good at much else. And the twins are... elsewhere.” An elsewhere that Cheila still didn’t think she wanted to know about. “Everyone forgets Dash is a boy...” She added with a bewildered frown. “I don’t. He has dark hair and only the men in the family have dark hair. When I left Rick’s place someone asked me if I bleached my hair... Why would I put bleach in my hair? It burns, doesn’t it?” One hand was curling its fingers through her hair, the other chased a bohemian waxwing from under it. There were not strong wings or storms, so Lala could stop pretending she was hiding when she was only really making herself comfortable. Nonexistent winds were stealing Cheila’s attention away bit by bit, but she kept wandering back to the point. Namely the one that was just voiced. “They named the town during autumn? Oh, but leaves are fun in the wind.” Memories of trying to keep one leaf aloft for as long as possible dodged through her mind before she grounded herself again to consider the demons. “Why?” She was no scholar, but she was inquisitive and frequently accused of over-thinking things by her familiar -- who was here in a manner of speaking, except not -- and demons being near telepaths seemed like the kind of thing she needed to know about. If she ever remembered it. One day she was going to write things like this down. At the same time, she didn’t think anybody should be near demons. And she really did want Barnabas to get better again. “I don’t have a very good memory,” she confessed, chewing her lip. “I get distracted easily. That was how I got lost, but Lala wasn’t paying attention either.” It hadn’t been her fault alone and her familiar had assigned herself the job of being the navigator. “I think very blonde people can be easier to find,” Cheila agreed, though she didn’t really know what aspect of that remark she was agreeing with. But she was very blonde. “And I’d like that. There is a lot I forget.” It probably should have concerned her.
The minds of air elementals could be such a fascinating place, Laurent decided. He had suspected it before but now he knew it to definitely be true as he listened to Cheila ramble. Though, he did have to admit, it was much better than seeing her any sort of frightened. That had not been pleasant at all and he did not care to bear witness to it again. Though I would to pull her back out. Why? Because he hated knowing that she went through that. “It’s because your hair is so blonde it’s practically white and we don’t see hair like that often. Bleach doesn’t burn in your hair, just if it gets somewhere else. “Um... I’m not sure, actually, I’m no telepath or scholar.” Just a writer who got curious now and again as to various things. But other than that, no. Smiling at her saying that she would like if he found her, Laurent made a note to do just exactly that. It would be nice to have another friendly face in town even if said face might not remember him. He could remind her. “I’ll write it down and give it to you then, when I find you. And perhaps I’ll find something about why demons affect telepaths so. So that you can share the information with your family.” Seemed like something she might like to do.
For a moment, Cheila just pulled the ends of her hair in front of her face, nearly going cross-eyed as she tried to inspect her hair colour even though she was fully aware what it looked like. “But all of us have hair like this. Except Dash.” A beat. “And Barnabas.” So there were five people in Scarlet Oak with hair the same colour, even if her mother’s was now more white than it was white-blonde. “Bleaching your hair sounds painful... but I suppose cutting it does too.” She waited a second, half-expecting the odd shadow of her familiar to tell her she was thinking aloud again, but it didn’t. That was a little confusing. More confusing was that the bird then vanished. And he might not have been a telepath or a scholar, but he still knew more about it than she did. A lot of people knew a lot more about things than Cheila did. Bouncing on her toes momentarily at the idea of having something written down -- it was so much easier when things were written down and the words couldn’t just be scattered -- she beamed at him. That sentence had had a ‘when’ and not an ‘if’. Whens were better than ifs because they were often fixed points even if they could be changed and there wasn’t as much of a chance of it just not happening. Fixed points -- like home -- made things easier by far. “Thank you. Really. I think they’d appreciate that.” She hoped. Unless it was something they wouldn’t want to know. She might have to tell Caelia first.
It was so interesting to hear how Cheila thought. Because Laurent had no doubts that how Cheila spoke was very similar to how she thought. Especially when she went and declared things like how bleaching should hurt and so should cutting. The smile on Laurent’s face was fond as he shook his head. “Hair is dead cells,” he explained. “Therefore it doesn’t feel until it gets to your scalp. And it is not a problem, Cheila, I look forward to seeing you again.” Rising he gave a little bow and leaned in to kiss the top of her head. She did not like being touched but he figure that maybe this was not so bad. It was meant to be gentle and soothing, and also to encourage her to go into a deeper realm of sleep where dreams and nightmares would not bother her. “Sleep well, little air elemental, and if you dream again dream of this place or your home.”
“Oh.” Science had no place in Cheila’s head, but she was more than a little bewildered at learning her hair was actually dead. It grows... But Laurent said it was dead and since he was technically all dead, it would make sense that he knew more about that too. Her eyes widened slightly at the contact and she was about to comment when she yawned instead of speaking. Which didn’t make sense, because she was suddenly completely certain she was already asleep. Still, she yawned again, one hand flying to cover her mouth and leaving just her mildly confused frown visible. “Okay.” She nodded. Because it didn’t make sense not to if she was already asleep anyway. “Um, goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Laurent replied. She was already starting to fade away and he decided that he was as well. Had to, actually, because without her there was no dream. And so he stepped out into the waking world to work.