An Elf.

[Heero]

Standing on a bridge in the town where he lived, he looks out over the comings and goings of Synnoria. Suddenly the bridge disappears, and he is standing on air with nothing holding him there. As he shines like a star glowing bright in the dark, starving eyes of his kin catching him seem more akin to those of beasts.

The dream had come a few nights ago and just wouldn't go away as finding reverie has become much harder. The semi-awareness afforded by elven rest has been replaced with restless sleep, sleep with dreams coming as they do to those not of 'the people'.

His glazed eyes focus back to the still pool of the grove that sits at the base of menhir. As he stares into the pool with its waters reflecting as a mirror, the stranger that appears seems familiar. While they had spoken before, the conversations were never clear, they went in circles and were always one-sided.

Standing to turn from the pool, he catches sight of something in one of the trees at the edge of the grove and the meadow. Now plainly confused, he wonders if his dreams have any meaning, whether they are something real he is seeing. Speaking in the tongue of the firstborn, the fey, as he passes the tree, he answers his own thoughts aloud, "No. No, I think they are something vague, more like a ghost that is following us both -- more like a feeling."

[kid]

This is good.

[loulabelle]

Yay heero! Even though you dropped the ball on Fat Drow (and with it sank my hopes and eager anticipation) I will accept this.