Post by Novus on Nov 28, 2009 4:22:10 GMT -5
It was bright and warm in the greenhouse, despite the biting cold outside of its glass walls. For this very reason, someone had found a piece of one of the greenhouses that was seldom used and set up a small bedroll to sleep in. With the smell of dirt and neglected troughs all around him, that someone - once a student of Firefox yet not a graduate - slept.
His dream was the same dream he had been having for months.
There was a field of white roses, untouched by any pigmentation. In the distance, though not too far, was a pristine blue tower with windows, but no doors. He laid in the field of roses, in a lush green clearing, his eyes mostly set on the white puffs of clouds hanging in the sky above. In the clearing was another person with his back turned to him, facing the tower. He was painting.
The boy couldn't make out any words, but he knew the man was speaking. The flowers all melted away, the tower lost, the sky swirled into wooden ceiling. He was at a table now, and there was a letter in front of him, unopened. He read the address on it.
To THE UNKNOWN ONE
Address: Truly Lost
He knew this wasn't his name, and he knew he wasn't lost. In his dream, the boy stood and knocked the table. A goblet of wine spilled out and drenched the letter in red. The liquid showed a reflection of an unfamiliar face with red eyes instead of his blue and black hair instead of his blond. The face smiled while the boy felt terror.
Novus Clarus woke up. He was sweating through his clothes. In the warmth of the greenhouse, he only wore a pair of shorts and a tee shirt to sleep in the thin bedroll. The light shining in from the east told him that it was early morning. For a small moment, Novus was glad that the nightmare woke him up in time to begin moving again. He rolled up his bed and put it in his canvas bag, which contained his clothes and a towel and about 10 Galleons in assorted denominations.
He had nothing now. He would sleep in the Greenhouse, then wander out to Drakborough to find some cheap food and a place to spend his day. Then back when it started getting dark. He didn't even own a wand anymore.
He had stopped even trying to be friendly with the people of Firefox and all of Spain ever since the nightmares started eating at his psyche. They weren't just at night. He had waking nightmares, visions plaguing his mind every time he let it wander, every time he closed his eyes.
There was the face in the spilled wine. Sometimes he saw visions of death and Drakborough burning. Another town, one he could swear he remembered visiting but could not be sure anymore, was often seen covered in snow and ash and laying in ruin. There was a big sign, prominent in his mind's eye, showing the head of a hog. It was burned until half of it was no longer even there.
He was halfway to the door of the greenhouse, now dressed in his pants and wool coat, when he collapsed. Laying on the ground, he felt a memory play out in his mind. There was a girl laying in the center of a big dueling room. She was bleeding, and dying, but time had stopped still. He walked over to the girl, someone slightly familiar (maybe a student at the school?), to give her a helping hand.
But, in the blood, he saw a reflection. The smiling face with red eyes and black hair was there again.
He pried his eyes open and stumbled back to his feet, grabbing the edge of one of the dirt troughs. It tumbled over under his emaciated weight and sent Novus sprawling into a pile of soil. Afte fumbling for a grip in the soft dirt, he lifted himself up onto his knees and managed to dust most of the dirt off of his coat.
His face remained expressionless, his blue eyes not betraying any emotional sentiment.
His dream was the same dream he had been having for months.
There was a field of white roses, untouched by any pigmentation. In the distance, though not too far, was a pristine blue tower with windows, but no doors. He laid in the field of roses, in a lush green clearing, his eyes mostly set on the white puffs of clouds hanging in the sky above. In the clearing was another person with his back turned to him, facing the tower. He was painting.
The boy couldn't make out any words, but he knew the man was speaking. The flowers all melted away, the tower lost, the sky swirled into wooden ceiling. He was at a table now, and there was a letter in front of him, unopened. He read the address on it.
To THE UNKNOWN ONE
Address: Truly Lost
He knew this wasn't his name, and he knew he wasn't lost. In his dream, the boy stood and knocked the table. A goblet of wine spilled out and drenched the letter in red. The liquid showed a reflection of an unfamiliar face with red eyes instead of his blue and black hair instead of his blond. The face smiled while the boy felt terror.
Novus Clarus woke up. He was sweating through his clothes. In the warmth of the greenhouse, he only wore a pair of shorts and a tee shirt to sleep in the thin bedroll. The light shining in from the east told him that it was early morning. For a small moment, Novus was glad that the nightmare woke him up in time to begin moving again. He rolled up his bed and put it in his canvas bag, which contained his clothes and a towel and about 10 Galleons in assorted denominations.
He had nothing now. He would sleep in the Greenhouse, then wander out to Drakborough to find some cheap food and a place to spend his day. Then back when it started getting dark. He didn't even own a wand anymore.
He had stopped even trying to be friendly with the people of Firefox and all of Spain ever since the nightmares started eating at his psyche. They weren't just at night. He had waking nightmares, visions plaguing his mind every time he let it wander, every time he closed his eyes.
There was the face in the spilled wine. Sometimes he saw visions of death and Drakborough burning. Another town, one he could swear he remembered visiting but could not be sure anymore, was often seen covered in snow and ash and laying in ruin. There was a big sign, prominent in his mind's eye, showing the head of a hog. It was burned until half of it was no longer even there.
He was halfway to the door of the greenhouse, now dressed in his pants and wool coat, when he collapsed. Laying on the ground, he felt a memory play out in his mind. There was a girl laying in the center of a big dueling room. She was bleeding, and dying, but time had stopped still. He walked over to the girl, someone slightly familiar (maybe a student at the school?), to give her a helping hand.
But, in the blood, he saw a reflection. The smiling face with red eyes and black hair was there again.
He pried his eyes open and stumbled back to his feet, grabbing the edge of one of the dirt troughs. It tumbled over under his emaciated weight and sent Novus sprawling into a pile of soil. Afte fumbling for a grip in the soft dirt, he lifted himself up onto his knees and managed to dust most of the dirt off of his coat.
His face remained expressionless, his blue eyes not betraying any emotional sentiment.