He’s lost his mind, he’s lost his mind.
A huge yellow eye had opened behind him, its light grabbed onto his skin and when he whirled around he saw himself,
Reflected in it, his pale ashen face still clad in the torn, bloodied, mead-stained clothes of the nightly terrorising. Dun had fallen, something metallic and cold under his hands, digging in. Thin, round flat things that glimmered the same color as the eye.
The head seemed to encompass his entire field of vision as the beast leaned back and somehow, it seemed…bored.
Dun’s breaths were heaving and ragged,
“Hm! You’re worse than the other one. I suppose you’re wondering what I am. Who I am and perhaps, why?”
Its pompous. Why does the voice sound familiar?
The fore-paws pat at the yellow metal. Gold. Gold. “Wh…wh…”
“You are dreaming, if that’s what you’re going to ask. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t speaking. No, no, you’ve been catching little glimpses, haven’t you, I always told them, humans can’t handle anything more complex than perception and memory!”
Dun can only gawk and tremble. Dreaming, dreaming, Dun. Its not real. “Se…seeing?”
“Yes, seeing, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. A priest, eh? Ironic, they don’t even know you can actually do it!”
Dun hasn’t been eaten, so, maybe he’s safe. Dream logic is different than in real life. So why can he feel his breath and the sweat on his skin so clearly?
“I never wanted to be, I just do what…what I’m told.”
“Hm, now you’ll start doing what you’re told by yourself, maybe.”
He forgets the dream almost entirely, and only remembers it after the second. And the third, until they all seem out of sync, but one thing’s for certain, its only after Unferth and Wglaf are dead that he remembers all of them clearly.
It was damp and humid in this dream, a stark contrast to the early winter. That foreboding he’d felt when he saw Unferth, dark and burning against the snow outside, returned.
On his feet, he manages to spit out his words this time, “Something’s happening. Going to, isn’t it? How do I stop it?”
“Did I say you could stop it? You can’t, it’s already happened. At least for me it has. Time is funny like that.”
“Then why tell me at all if I can’t do anything?”
“I didn’t say that either! Who is speaking here, you or me, boy?! Hm. Who indeed. If only you knew. But you will, and when its you, oh how you’ll look back and laugh!”
The third dream, Dun does not tremble or Blanche at the concept of talking to a dragon.
“Of course the tomes say that I’ll be checking in,” He’s saying, though Dun doesn’t understand.
“I have to kill Beowulf.” Want to, need to, he doesn’t say that but that’s the truth. The dragon places its paws together, like they were hands,
“Oh, you can. All those years of dodging will come in handy, but you know, it’ll have consequences. You won’t be the same.”
Dun stares, stares, sees his face again in that yellow eye, watery. “I’m already not the same. How do I kill him?”
“Bring up to the top of the cliff, dear boy. I’ll do the rest. Just do what you do and run from the monster, he’ll follow. Once prey bolts, after all, a beast can’t help himself.”
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titsay
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