destination ⚔ deisolation
Tweets flitted down on light beams that spotted the little forest glen. Its sole occupant sat on the bank, holding legs out just shy of boots brushing the ponds lily encrusted surface while he glanced about. Auster had retreated to this little home away from home every night for as long as he could remember. Somehow, the prince figured it had been included in Flora’s gift or maybe it was passed down, if that old song was to be believed.
Whatever the reason, fingers ruffled through verdant grass that felt as real to palms callused from sword training as any when he was awake. The waters were calm and placid, revealing nothing aside from the muddy bottom. Auster knew they’d be cool to the touch. When the clear surface suddenly clouded over in shades of gray, however, the dreamer instinctively crept back. The pond had done this before occasionally, showing the heir scenes and moments that would happen, though he'd only recently begun to figure out just what they meant before he was knee deep in whatever trouble his gift had tried to warn him about.
Shallows rippled with an unsettling vision. Barren and dark, a land laid out before him in the shimmering water. Breath caught in lungs that felt more a hundred than a quarter. Never had the pool shown him something to send a chill up his spine.
And yet.
Centimeter by centimeter, he scooted forward. There was something… sad about the place. No, that wasn’t quite right, but he’d never been good with words. Fingers reached out, whether they meant to bid the vision leave or offer some impossible comfort, the prince himself didn’t know. Intent turned out not to matter as they crossed the watery threshold to a foreign sensation of air on the other side.
Blinking, Auster found himself kneeling, not next to his pond, but surrounded by harsh landscape. “That’s new,” was murmured as the young man rose with grace to his feet, black pants bearing specks of dry dirt. When you figured your whole life was leading up to epic battle with a dragon, little magical surprises were hardly likely to get your dander up.
Absently, the heir dusted himself off, curious stare assessing the terrain. “I don’t suppose, just once, you could— I don’t know— tell me what you mean?” The sentence ended a bit more heated and loud than he’d meant, reverberating around him. “Hells bells.” Wherever he was, rosy silk shirt was not a proper deterrent against its bone seeping chill and palms ran over arms in hopes of shooing away goosebumps. Despite the voice of reason, (more often than not silent anyway), a few steps crossed the ground of the far flung, forlorn locale and then a few more. The prince hadn’t been sure of what he was expecting to find, but it certainly hadn’t been the person he did.
@eternalle