#earthrunes

"But when I opened my eyes? It was like a dream that escapes the more you try to remember it."

He looks almost like he might cry.

He looks over the sketchbook, studying "This is interesting work"

"Are you... am I not supposed to try to see things? When it happened before, it was just like... bam."

He flicks the side of his head in emphasis. "This was more like... seeking, and then getting sucked in... but then it spit me out, wrung dry."

"Maybe we could try hypnosis?"

"You have these visions often?"

"Or could you, like, use a crystal ball and see HIS vision?"

"Not... often. " He hesitates, thinking back. "Two... three times? Four, if you count this one. Since my Dream Dance, last summer." He says. "Is it not common?"

"I told the Baron, but he said something about not wanting to influence my thought patterns with his suppositions... our steward, she says he used to be a Seer, but he does not use the soothsay arts any more, and I oughtn't ask. Imagine, a boggan saying not to ask questions?" Art looks almost pained at the idea of something he can't dig into.

He looks intrigued "You're unsained...house unknown?"

He nods. "My home Barony is Varich and Ailil, but they have Daireann as well - and a Dougal, now."

"Eight months and one day until we can be sained. Not that I'm counting."

Belatedly, he introduces himself. "My name is Art - Arthur Anderson." A smile over to Thistle. "This is my boon companion, Trina, called Thistle. Our dream dances were shared."

"I popped because of him."

"I was the spark, but the gunpowder was preloaded."

A small grin over to her.

"A dual dream dance?" He says "I will omen ... but the cake best be good"

"You will? Oh, that's wonderful!" A brilliant smile. "I will certainly owe you. I do not have dross, else I would offer that, but a boon I can certainly grant - either labor, or once sained, I will find a way to make right. - if only you can figure this out. It is driving me quite mad."

"Once you are sained, you'll owe me a favor, oh yes" A thin smile.

And he looks at them both "If you would both put your hands on the sketch book? You came into this world together as kitahin, it may help"

Art nods to Thistle, moving aside to make room as he presses his hands where indicated.

His staff set to one side, leaning against the desk so as to free up his hands.

She joins Art - her hand is gnarled and knobby, red and calloused, at odds with the elegant sidhe's.

...there's clay and pigment under her nails.

He gives her a reassuring grin. Practically vibrating with anticipation.

Art's own hands, stained with ink here and there, the fingertips dry - in need of lotion, perhaps, the turning of page after page sapping them of moisture.

"And we're looking for what tthis vision you saw means. " A nod "I'm going to try to read the vision rather than you two, you'e more the path to the goal" He closes his eyes "Seen afore, we implore, tell us more - the third eye opens to see past the velvet"

Art breathes low and slow, trying to calm the rapid thud of his heartbeat, in excitement, anticipation. One of his hands brushes just barely against Thistle's.

The Seer, Sir Almandine... no, Sir Bellamy, for Fate knows his name, seeks.... and before his gaze, the scrawls and scratches and smudges and markings on the sketchbook start to take form...

Art just BARELY resists the urge to ask, "Is it working?!"

Blush! She is blushing.

The sidhe stands exposed to the Fate Eye, but then, there are prices to pay

The stars spin around on the page as though the sheet of canvas comprises the whole of the universe, and he, the watcher, is at the center of the universe, riding on a carousel and watching the world rotate by. Slowly figures come into focus, the lines making sense. The dots become legible stars, connected by lines and forming a shape seen with the imagination - this isn't just 3 dots drawn in a curve, that isn't just an odd shaped rhombus of points, it's so much more.

The Sculptor standing beside Ursa, the bear.

Behind them, Fornax, the Forge, giving strength, shedding light.

Above them, guiding, is Pyxis, the Compass. A straight line, only the slightest deviation to one end... not unlike the rounded curve of the tip of the short staff that rests against his very desk.

Before them, the Gatekeeper, Charon, blocking their way.

Beyond the gatekeeper, fragments, dust, scribbles, nothing. Dead stars, extinguished. Amidst this, a small rendition of a many-pointed constellation, Draco, curled tightly - nearly erased.

He shares the vision with them, extending the cantrip

Art's grip on the table tightens, eyes flickering behind closed lids as he sees - or sees again, but absorbs, for the first time.

Thistle holds her breath!

"Now..." The Eiluned says "What do we make of THAT?"

"You... did you... you saw that? Did you see that?" Asking the seer eagerly, though still in a whisper!

Thistle blanches, spirals going a sickly yellow and she steps back.

" I did." He says

"Thistle?? Did you see it too?" Art practically glowing with excitement!

She wraps her arms around herself, as if cold.

"Your baron, he's an Ailil, is he not?"

"...Thistle? ...Trina?" Art peers at her.

"It's a kiln."

"You've gone all.. chartreuse..."

"I wanna go home."

"I think much of this is obvious, and even more obvious to you" The Seer says "I'll remind you of your debt to me in ... 8 and a half months"