driftfleet | dreams in digital

[ Calibration Rooms ]
( for A-M characters )

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ROOMS BY CHARACTER

A - C

Connor

D - F

G - I

Haggar

J - M

Lup

(last updated: 1/21/19)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Skeletons and banshees... like a reflex, Kravitz straightens - but it's not like he can call on his weapon here, so he's quick to relax again. Still, he keeps his guard up, and part of his attention on that window. If something did try coming in, he'll be ready. ]

So, this isn't your room at all?

[ He glances around, curious - and at the mention of books, he finds himself idly reaching over to touch that red book with the gold lettering.

[So far, nothing seems to be crawling inside. It's just the outside that's gone to hell.] It is, but it isn't. I have a room like this when I'm older, except--

[But as Kravitz's fingertips touch the book, his surroundings fade into a memory.]

[A small window sits open to some courtyard where more people like Belthazar walk and talk and go about their day framed by golden leaves and arches. But inside is more important. Belth sits at a table, looking the same age as he was before, with the red book splayed open. There is a girl hovering nearby who looks barely above the age of eighteen. Her eyes are a beautiful glowing bright blue standing out against dark curly hair the same color as Belthazar's. She wears a white robe that has some kind of religious form to it.

The girl sets some food on the table within Belth's reach. Her voice is soft and pleasant.]

Your studies are important but you should always make sure to eat, little one.

[Belth quits the passage he's reading and makes a pouty face. Ah, yes, that's familiar. He puffs out his cheeks.] I'm not little!

[That inspires a warm laugh. The girl leans in and ruffles his hair.] While that may be true, you will always be my little brother. Even if you grow like the reeds.

Even if I'm taller than you?

Even if you were taller than all the trees in Quel'thalas. [Belth leans his head back and whines. The girl takes the chance to close his book and set it aside, then pushes the food toward him. Though Kravitz can't interact with any of this, the memory is crystal clear, enough that he can smell the food with perfect accuracy.] You can't grow if you skip meals, Belthazar.

But Caspa, I'm really close to learning how to--

[The child falls silent as someone knocks loudly on the door. There are similar knocks down the way, and the people walking by have turned to running. A voice shouts beyond the door:]

Quel'thalas is under attack! Everyone who is able to fight, report to the gates! Together we will repel the invaders!

[Belthazar looks at Caspa with surprise and terror, and she shares the same look.]

T-the boats are too far, sister! We'll never make it...

[Caspa's panic gives way to determination, firm and gentle and unyielding. She places a blanket around her little brother and gently leads him away from the table. Caspa continues guiding him toward the back of the room, where the entrance to the cellar sits. She opens the two small wooden doors and then crouches before her brother.]

Bel, I want you to promise me something.

A-anything, Caspa... but...

Promise me you won't come out until it's safe.

I promise. Aren't you going to come with me? It's dark and scary down there. It's where all of Father's old stuff is and it's dusty.

They need people to heal the fighters, don't they? Yes, they do. Trust the Farstriders. They've kept us safe before. Remember when the forests almost burned? We were safe, weren't we?

Yes... [Belth's ears flatten and he bows his head. Tears make their way down his cheeks. Caspa kisses him on the forehead.]

Everything will be fine. Be very quiet, like we are playing hide and seek.

[She gives him a little push and locks the cellar door, then moves furniture in front of it. With no one else to be brave in front of, Caspa finally lets herself cry as she realizes what she is about to do.

The memory fades to white, and white, and white...

... and then, quite abruptly, the room is back. The Dead Scar outside the window rages on, but none of the undead come close to being reachable with magic. And it wouldn't matter, anyway, because now there's an older Belthazar staring at the red book with a look of such betrayal that it'd be difficult to ignore.

He... might have been crying. He wipes surreptitiously at his cheeks and folds his arms, as if he wasn't watching the memory right along with Kravitz.]

My home did not quite survive that night, [he murmurs.] Ninety percent of the high elf population here was slaughtered. Women, children, knights and lords, they all died the same. Some were raised into service to slaughter more of their kin. Others became fuel for their infernal machines, or they were... pieces made into something else...

[He trembles, his fingers digging into his own arms.]

There is nothing more disgusting, more twisted in nature, than that mockery of life and death. That is the reality I grew up with. What happened before that day is... it belongs to the boy in the past, and it ought to stay there.

Edited 2019-02-03 00:48 (UTC)

[ Once the room is back, Kravitz quickly removes his hand from the book, feeling a pang of guilt at having carelessly touched it in the first place. He winces at the numbers from the slaughter, and his eyes narrow at the vague mention of people being raised, or made into something else... ]

You're... not wrong. About the mockery of life and death. [ His expression is serious, but his voice is soft. Understanding. ] In my world, it's literally my job to help make sure the balance of life and death remains as it should, and I've been at it for a... very long time. But seeing things like that - the reality you grew up with? It's still horrible.

[ He reaches a hand out to rest on the young elf's shoulder, to try and steady the trembling - but carefully enough that Belthazar can refuse and step away if he prefers. ]

[Kravitz' tone is comforting, even though he's a stranger, and it mollifies the elf somewhat. Belthazar still hasn't quite shaken that look he gets when he's agitated-- the look of an animal ready to fight for life at any moment, ready to flee to face another day. That's how he lived for so many damn years.]

That's... your job? You would find Azeroth sick, then. For many reasons... The perversion of life and death is only one threat affecting my world.

[He wonders, briefly, if that's why this man ended up wandering into his dreams.

Belth isn't much for contact, but to his credit, he doesn't swat Kravitz's hand away. He flinches at first, barely imperceptible, but he doesn't seem to tremble after that. Maybe because he's suddenly gone very stiff.

His brain turns in a few directions. Balance between life and death. Immortal. Extremely cold hand.

Belth looks up at him.]

... Are you supposed to be... some kind of good lich?

dreams in digital

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cw: genocide, vague gore mention WHOOPS

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