I woke with a start. Tis uncomfortable, prickly hot, even though there's a disgusting sheen of cold sweat sliding down my undercarriage. "Ye cried out, again..." Wide, alarmed globes turn to the one who'd spoke; not aloud, but in my mind. Fina could rarely be bothered with concern -- but these unstable irritants kept occurring, and they're getting noticeably worse, instead of better. Another nightmare -- an army of three stood around me, those horrific, unstoppable wraiths. Is this punishment for failure? An eternity spent, watching Seele die again and again. Yar, a question my present company couldn't answer, so I placed it aside for later consideration.

Fina croaks evenly, "Earth came." Aye, say true...How could I've forgotten? I'd had one other dream during the night, "I know." My tone is groggy, but even and in some semblance, normal. Limbs unhook their rigid hold, my knees pop audibly as I move slowly from beneath the shade of an ol'oak tree. Neve flutters down from a perch to rest upon my spine, those tiny swords gently couple with fur. "P-ay?" She murmurs softly. I glance back, softening visibly. A tiny crease lifts one corner a little, "Nay, not now." Much to everyone's surprise, instead of sulking, Neve merely nods understandably and falls respectfully silent.

Clearing pools turn to greet a brightening day, another sunrise drenched the empty, navy canvas with fire. As my eldest companion pointed out. Earth came to me in the early evening, via a dream, or vision as they call them. His watchful eyes are constantly seeking a suitable boon to aid our cause. One section of His family was lacking, our crafting projects were making slow progress; Elsa couldn't handle the work alone. Especially with her newfound responsibilities. I could only imagine the exhaustion which came from raising twins.

Dried needles and scattered oak leavings take on a mythical hue, tis unnatural but no less beautiful. The color lingers for only a moment, but its a constant, expectant trail as my painted frame turns to walk toward the meadow which lay just beyond view. The silver rise of metal around my breast glimmers and reflects the sunlight. Those heated fingers are warm, they sooth this conflicted spirit. I move to stand in plain view, just ahead of the treeline. Basking in its glow -- letting the rampant cruelty of night slip away.

We could find Rasta later...