22 - Davnian - Circumstance and Visions

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Dreams had been fast and frantic of late. Opening his eyes, Davnian grunted. The light was bright, searing his retinas as he tried to force himself awake. Scenes of an ashen-haired young man and golden-headed woman danced through his head along with a steely, blue-eyed stranger whispering to him of faults and fancies. The images were blurry but also familiar. If only he could hold them in place.

[Give it a rest, and try again later, young one,] the snarling, old black thing in his skull said.

[If I could remember something, anything more, I'd be less apt to try,] Davnian countered as his eyes adjusted. Despite his morning victories, his eyes had returned to being fettered by darkness and sleep. What should have taken an instant was taking seconds, the hazy pastels of brown, yellow, and coal shifting in his vision. He had hoped to catch a glimpse of black by his side as the thought of nursing like a babe once more intruded upon him.

[Perhaps you should accept more inner anguish. Getting used to being served is the last thing you need,] the other said, its voice like tendrils of smoke as he tried to adjust his position. His hands and arms were weak, but he could move them. Holding them in place was another story. He felt his feet and curled his toes. With enough effort, he could wiggle his legs and lurch his calves. He could lift his head and turn it from side to side, and he could contract and relax his back. He was still sore, but with ample effort, he could lift or shift himself. However, even after a morning of wakefulness, he could not yet travel of his accord. [Then again, maybe what you need is better service. A lineup of people to throw themselves at you.]

[It might be better if they just threw me instead,] Davnian thought, wondering if being forced to use his strength might be better. His muscles were beyond atrophied. However, even with the light nourishment, he had regained an incredible amount of strength. The premise was impossible, innate stores of knowledge and an intuitive understanding of anatomy told him. Denying what had been accomplished was not in his best interest, much less those around him. [Do you think that maybe danger would be apt to forcing my recovery?]

[Possibly, young one, but at what cost? Likewise, would your response be correct for whoever induced it?] The other's words were foreboding. Other than knowing his name and having some sense of ownership to the title "Virage," Davnian knew little about his physiological or mental workings. The nightmare he had awoken from, along with its imagery, had been purged from his brain. The only thing that lingered was a leeriness over his dread title. [Besides that, you should enjoy what reprieve you can get.]

A smile crossed his face as he thought of relaxing. He had been happy to see Elis Renai, someone whom he could tell was dearer to him than he could recollect. Her energy, concern, and chaotic moods were a joy to watch, if not a bit unsettling for conversation's sake. Neris was another story. Elegant and precise, cold but burning with a fire that threatened to consume everything around her. Given the circumstances, he should have felt lucky to be so doted upon, though tremors of reluctance and hesitation clung to his conscience. Bones were cast all around him, but he couldn't divine their meaning.

[You should fixate less,] the other prodded, pulling him from his thoughts.

[Agreed,] Davnian replied as the illusions of his tenacious mind faded, giving way to the clarity of his vision. [Though we still have a chief concern.]

[Ohran will wait for Neris to return,] the other said.

Raising his head, he looked down past his covered feet at the open wooden slats of the small room. Sunlight slid through the cracks. From his angle, he guessed the sun was high, leaning towards early afternoon. Outside he spotted movement. Focusing, he made out a wooden bridge in the distance. Shifting his gaze, he eyed a basket, several jars, and wrapped parcels as the fragrance of bread and berries teased his nostrils.

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