leo ☼
date: january 29 time: 7:30 am location: streets of crowmire availability: closed to @dawnofdae
In his dreams, he smelled smoke. His heart hammered against his chest, hands fumbling with a doorknob that was too hot to turn- he winced in pain, using his shirt to finally pry it open. The entire floor was aflame and he coughed, racing for the exit only to find it blocked by the inferno.
“No, no, no, no-”
He turned, caught sight of the fire escape, and then he woke up with one thought replaying itself over and over again in his head: home. It had felt too real, to detailed for him to write it off as another dream- the sensation of the smoke filling up his lungs felt too familiar, his throat sore when he tried to clear it. Seeing things he recognized, things he hadn’t remembered before, like a painting of an elf swinging from the branch of a tree being completely engulfed in fire, or the way that the smoke poured from the walls because they were burning from within.
It was real, and Leo found himself dressed and headed home to Crowmire- a place he had avoided returning to ever since his memory had been wiped- before the sun even rose.
It was the same as it had always been, cobbled streets and pedestrians living their monotonous lives. How he’d been born and raised here hadn’t ever made sense to anyone who knew him. It was the source of many a joke, people claiming he’d been switched at birth.
He thought simply returning would make him remember somehow; there had to have been a reason he felt so inclined to return so suddenly. But all he saw were the things he wished he’d forgotten; there was nothing here. At least not that he could see.
He took a seat on a bench and sighed with disappointment, doing something he rarely did anymore: he raised his hands, palms up, and tilted his head to the sky.
“Tymora, if you’re listening: I need help. I need… I need to remember.“
Perhaps he’d expected some sort of reply, but none came. He bit his bottom lip and stared into the distance, at a mother and her child walking hand in hand, longing to return to a point in his life when things were that simple.
Crowmire was alive with magic — Daera could sense it flowing through the streets, pulsing in every ancient brick. There was history here, and she longed to know it. But there was little time to explore, and for as much as she wanted to stay, she knew that she couldn’t afford the luxury.
She was walking a dangerous line; she had been for months now. The Raven Queen was aware of her treason, that much Dae was certain of, and it unwise to stay in one place for too long. The shadows were everywhere, around every corner, but she knew them well. She knew how to escape.
But an eternity of running could spare a moment — and she came to a stop by a sad stranger, lowering herself to sit beside him on an old wooden bench. She followed his gaze to the mother and her child, then turned back to see the sadness in his eyes. The confusion. He was lost.
And she was afraid of being found.
That didn’t stop her from basking in the sun.
“Care for some company?”
