Fantasy Imaginary Fortress ~ Rhongomyniad

[Meehrwillow]

...a collaborative story. Syntra

"Ah, I see...
However, I have to apologize.
You've picked a terrible time, Aneue. . ."

​

A Wizard rests by a glimmering brook.
The Sun shines from all directions.
Submerged in a shallow dream.
​

"Well, I still think most people need a good shove in the back," a figure spoke from under the shade cast by their oversized hat. Their smile was smug as they bragged about their deeds, though the sweet tone of their voice glazed the ears like effervescent honey. Eyes near-closed as they looked around, their gaze wandered from place to place even as they spoke, addressing the shadow next to them rather carelessly and without manners. In their mind, they couldn't be blamed for admiring scenery so vivid—the beauty of summer and the peace of the nearby spring. All about them bloomed hundreds of flowers, scattered wildly on a backdrop of emerald grass, lichen and moss, growing 'neath the underbrush and the towering oaks. Bugs and bees and butterflies buzzed with vigour between their petals and winding stalks, bewitched by their scent as if seeking its comfort had always been their one calling in life; as transient as the very impression the scenery made upon them. Such a sight, such perfect allure and unrivaled grace could only exist to be appreciated—thus the large-hatted dawdler excused their lack of courtesy. They walked along the edge of the flowing stream, laughing here and there—almost pre-emptively—at their own remarks. The specter followed closely behind.

"Seriously. Some folks are as dense as stone. Real stone, to be precise." They stopped, looking down to see their reflection in a pond where the rivulet had hoarded its waters. "You could watch for aeons and they still wouldn't get a hint, it's like watching two bricks interact. So, it's only natural for me to toss them a hint every so often, right?" For the first time in a while they turned back to the presence keeping them company, a shadowy husk of some bygone thing; the blurred form of which only became tangible once illuminated by the Sun's dancing rays. "Passion has to be treasured, in a world where everything else is but a passing dream." Slumping into a heavy sigh, their overcast face had lost its carefree luster, all at once appearing quite somber. They brushed a lock of hair away from their eyes, keeping their hand pressed gently against their forehead. "Even I'm not immune... To the flightiness of this place."

The thing staring back at them offered no response, merely standing in place as still as a statue and dead all the same. It had no features save a pair of eyes, malevolent little beads that struck unease into the soul. The longer that its stare kept lingering on, the less comfortable the moment became, until its presence alone seemed enough to distort the world around it. Slowly—neauseously—everything became disjointed, a jumble of disconnected shapes and colours which couldn't be understood. So unbearable was the sight of those misbegoten beads, that the fright-stained egoist sealed their eyelids shut, sweaping the shadow away with a torrent of wind at the command of their arm. A cold sweat had broken upon their clammy brow, heaving back and forth under strain from hectic breaths. They steadily began to wake from their trance, though they couldn't quite shake the unpleasant aftertaste of having been lost in its revulsion.

"How very like you, to lull us back to sleep at the worst possible time." The person spoke aloud, now to no-one but themselves. "You were reminding me, weren't you? You should know there's no need, though... As If I'd ever miss a promising opportunity." A small, anxious smile crept over their cheeks. "Now, then. . ."

"I have to prepare for my guest."