719/A Dreamer's Chronicle

A Dreamer's Chronicle
Date of Scene:	02 October 2014
Location:	A Quiet World
Synopsis:	Ainsley becomes one of Mizuki's first clients in a dream therapy session.
Cast of Characters:	151, 152, 183

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Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Rather than the clock tower, Mizuki instead invites Ainsley somewhere new -- a place that will likely be quite comfortable for 'The Chronicler', as it is a library: a silent bastion of knowledge and tomes, and with an atmosphere that more than fits the mood. The door is left open for her as she approaches, and she would not have to look far before she would find Mizuki sitting on the edge of the fountain at the building's center, silently reading a book and sipping from a cup of tea. She might also get a wave and a pleasant smile from the silent little librarian on a moving ladder off to the right.

    When Ainsley comes within a certain proximity of Mizuki, she closes her book and sets it aside, regarding the leezard with a pleasant nod of her head, and a smile. Assuming Faruja is with her now, she would give him the same. "Ever so nice to see you, Ainsley. Naturally, that applies to you as well, Father Senra." Grin~. "Welcome." She stands now, brushing off the edges of her dress and gesturing back. "But come. I have reserved a far more comfortable space for our use this evening."

    With that, Mizuki would begin leading them through the deeper parts of the library. The black-and-white parallelograms of the floor eventually yield to the fine wood of a staircase that winds upwards, and then to a pleasant balcony that overlooks the first floor. The dream witch would walk on, on, and on, until finally she reaches a simple door tucked away in an inconspicuous corner by a simple table, which is home to an equally simple bouquet. She inserts a floral key into the lock, and with a jingle, the door slides open.

    And there is a pleasantly small room, with a fine desk and a swivelling leather chair on to which light from a small, curtained window filters. On the other side is an equally comfortable, plush red armchair, along with the old stereotype: a cream colored chaise lounge that would look appealing to any not long for the waking world.

    Naturally, Mizuki settles in to the swivel chair, rotating once before coming to rest her eyes on Ainsley. "Rest yourself at your leisure. I am certain that you will find it an exceedingly simple thing to fall asleep here." -Still- has some of that ominous flair, huh? Whatever. But she wasn't kidding -- close your eyes and will yourself asleep, and you'll probably be in dreamland in a second flat.

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja would follow his scaley better half into the grand library. The Inquisitor can't help but stop and peer, looking utterly lost amidst so many books and beautiful architecture. The fountain in particular is a nice touch!

"Lady Mizuki, ye never cease to amaze! Lord's blessings mine dear! 'Tis where ye keep all of thine vast knowledge in that head of thine, hmm?" Greets the rat with a grin.

"And to thee as well, my Lady!" Here the good priest bows in a courtly manner to the good Time Girl.

Faruja will offer Ainsley an arm as Mizuki starts to lead them on, acting like a proper escort for her.

When they arrive, the much smaller room reminds him slightly of his own sitting room in Mullonde. He smiles, and lets Ainsley take the couch even as he settles into the lovely Red Armchair. Ahh, so comfy. The rat raises a hand, and then there's a shotglass of scotch on the rocks. Siiip. It seems the rat is playing to stereotypes, particularly as his clothes seem to change into fluffy red bath robes.

"Mayhaps I shall massage thine shoulders to help ye sleep, Ainsley!" Teases the rat lightly. Wink!

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    Ainsley is not in the mood to appreciate aesthetics. She seems to disregard the affinity she has for this place and even disregards all the books that she spots -- mostly, it still distracts her for a second -- in favor of Mizuki's presence here in this world. The dream witch gets the same tired look that most other people have received as of late.

    Ainsley looks over at Faruja as they walk, unsure if she wants to show him her dreams. Considering how vibrant they tend to be...

    The chronicler stops with them both in that room, and finds a place to sit. She doesn't conjure anything unique or artful... she just sits on that couch and rests back against it. Clasping her hands in her lap indicates a state of relaxation, or perhaps meditation. She smiles briefly at Mizuki, and then Faruja, a silent show of gratitude toward them for being here.

    And then she's asleep. She looks peaceful, and very still. She doesn't even seem to snore.

    Her dream manifests. It's the dream she's been having, but it's not something she has explained in any great detail. The room that Faruja and Mizuki find themselves in is... strange. The walls are made of paper, etched with words of all languages, but the words writhe and defy any attempts to read them. There are strange, nightmarish shapes lurking beneath the words, sliding under pages, tendrils curling just out of the corner of one's view... it is an ominous and seemingly evil setting. And yet there is no sense of danger, no impending violence. It is merely a place, a location in which something else will happen. This something will be explained in a moment.

    Adorning the paper walls are ornately framed paintings. These paintings are evidently memories, each one portraying a significant event in Ainsley's life that she had witnessed. It is here that Faruja is depicted, his painting a mix of all of her experiences involving him, in various states... good and bad. It is hard to really make out exact shapes, but Faruja would recognize the exact moments.

    Another painting shows the Mimigas, both rabid and not.

    Another shows a fallen Puella Magi, with Kyubey standing nearby.

    Yet another is a pair of pince-nez glasses, surrounded by Abstractum events, with Samael outlined in red in the background.

    Another is a picture of the ocean, with the Illuminati symbol burned into the clouds.

    Yet another is a picture of the Conquistador, a rhino man held up by blue strings, strings puppeted by a Quetzal with sunken black pits for eyes and a glowing blue amulet.

    Another is a picture of D, with a broken sword at his feet and Setsuko Kaminagi's weapon planted in the ground where it had broken.

    But the most notable is not a picture. It is a mirror. A mirror that does not reflect anything. In it is the inky darkness of oblivion, but standing in this infinite shadow is the image of Ainsley, staring out. But it's not quite her. Like some sort of alien depiction of her, with blood running from her eyes. She's adorned in some kind of mesoamerican religious outfit. She would watch Faruja and Mizuki, as if aware of their presence, but makes no motions to interact.

    Laid across the floor is Ainsley's physical self, staring up at the ceiling tiredly, adorned in tattered robes. She doesn't seem all that willing to get up from there, content to wait the dream out instead of facing it.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Mizuki greets the rat with the usual smile, and the usual banter and expressions of greeting. However, when she recognizes the tiredness hinted in nearly every action and feature of Ainsley's being, her expression straightens significantly. She does her best to give her the space that she may want, whilst watching her carefully as she lays down.

    Then things happen very, very quickly. Mizuki grabs Faruja's hand, and as soon as she does, a vorpal black would begin to spread from Ainsley. Not an entirely wrong black, or even one that he would find that scary, though whether or not he becomes unnerved with the appearance of the portraits and writhing beings in the background is infinitely less certain. Perhaps it is good, then, that Mizuki keeps a firm grasp on his hand at first, and is quick to speak up soon after they have entered. She keeps her eyes trained on the 'phantom image' of Ainsley all the while.

    "There is something very important you must understand before we begin, Faruja. In the dreams of people with well defined personalities and senses of self, people typically project and interact via dream avatars. To us outsiders, these avatars will often look like the person who is dreaming, but they may or may not be even remotely similar in personality. In short, I advise you to brace yourself, and to not hold Ainsley accountable for any of what happens here." Trusting that he understands, she links eyes with him and nods, gradually folding her arms behind herself as she strolls past the portraits, and to the mirror.

    After a few minutes of staring at the image, she gently places a hand to the glass while remaining ever wary of the world around her. She also gives the 'real' Ainsley's body a quick look. Idly, she adds, "It would likely be best if you stayed close to me, Faruja. None of this is 'real', but none of what you've seen in my world is either, quite. And as you have seen, it can nevertheless impact one in a myriad of concrete ways."

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja's attempts to cheer Ainsley are about as effective as he'd thought, the nezumi's ears drooping slightly and his face softening. He nods back, face full of love and /concern/ for the dear lizardess.

As Ainsley falls asleep, the Burmecian sighs. "I pray this works. I cannot stand to see her so exhausted and torn." FAruja downs the scotch in one pull, before setting it aside. His gaze sets upon Mizuki, and then eh's grabbed! Taken along through the strange blackness, finding himself staring at the tattered-robed image of Ainsley.

He's silent for some time, gazing at the walls and horrid feeling about. The old memories that bring a ghost of a smile. And Mizuki's words.

"Dream avatars. Right. 'Tis but an image, not her. If it wouldst calm her soul, then she may rip out my last eye in her rage and pain." States the rat, face growing stoic and prepared to face Ainsley's burdens.

A hand waves to the memories. "In order to protect /those/."

Then, he stays close to Mizuki. A single hand draws a second set of robes, and places them over Ainsley's tattered own.

"Dream or nay, ye aught be warm Ainsley. I love thee. Doth not let thine pain consume thee. Share it with us! We shall bear witness and ease thine burden!"

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    The mirror image of Ainsley stares at the two of them, seeming to be thinking about what they're saying. There's not a lot of movement from her, though. The lizard woman doesn't seem to react to them beyond this. Not to speak, or even to blink. Her expression is neutral.

    The 'real' Ainsley gets up to a stand, and looks at Faruja with a frown, as if uncertain about what she's looking at. She doesn't seem to understand what he's saying. She then raises a hand to point at Faruja's painting, which bends and distorts, and an image of Faruja appears. But this image is caked in blood, the knife wound from long ago still open, and his eyes a demonic yellow. He doesn't speak. He just steps toward Faruja until near him -- somehow taller than him, without the actual impression of height.

    "You are a cause of pain, too, Faruja," it speaks in a whispering voice, not quite his own, and spoken in a language that is certainly not Burmecian. "A firebrand that seeks a self-destructive path of justice and passion. She was once told never to become involved with you, did you know that?" His image gestures at Ainsley, who looks away at another painting distractedly.

    "Do you think that more sacrifice would /heal/ her pain? Although she would understand why, her heart would never accept that."

    It is an amazingly articulate image, to the point that it is nearly its own person. It seems Ainsley has a powerful imagination. Not quite as powerful as Mizuki, though.

    Ainsley holds the extra robes Faruja manifest in her hands, and he'd hear the sound of slashing and tearing. The robes tear and fall apart, but dribble more blood onto the floor, which soaks and fades into the pages at their feet. The robes torn as if by some invisible monster... from claws and teeth.

    The Faruja Image frowns, its eyes - it has both, somehow - full of an ire he'd never seen from her before. The kind of anger only a loved one can feel.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Mizuki notices as the other Ainsley rises, and turns her attention to her rather than her decidedly silent twin. She looks on in reticence, taking note of her apparent lack of understanding, and following her finger to the painting she seems to be indicating. Another portrait of Faruja? She quirks an eyebrow; loved one or no, Faruja's presence in this particular subconscious vision is extremely prevalent. Far too prevalent to ignore, considering that part of her purpose of being here is to resolve the issues that are making this dream reoccur.

    So naturally, she's extremely attentive to the painting's words, and nods along in silence. Looking at no point or person in particular, she begins to nod. "Indeed. It is well and good that we would sacrifice ourselves if we knew with absolute certainty that those loved ones we leave in our wake would have an ideal world to live in, but that line of thought is paradoxical. Mortals are needy creatures, you know; an 'ideal world' without you is quite probably oxymoronic to our host." Mizuki locks eyes with Faruja again now, her expression bizarrely sober -- almost sagely, in spite of her youth. "There is humility, too, in recognizing the true desires and thoughts of those we love, yes. Those things that lie beyond our own egocentrism and cultural heuristics."

    Mizuki focuses her gaze on Ainsley herself now, though. "You have a beautiful mind, Ainsley. A heart of an artist, if one that has been thrown off-kilter by the darker aspects of our shared reality." She gives the room another look to complement her words, at that. "You are prudent to fear for the loss of your knight, and perhaps just as right to fear the tempest of his emotions. I am certain that he appreciates your concern, however, and that it will only extend the time you each have to spend with one another." A soft smile appears. "But tell me if I may ask, or show me if I may see: what would be happening right now, had we phantoms not intruded upon your thoughts this evening?"

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja tries to stand tall against the demonic monster that is the pain he's caused the one he loves most. His larger twin rails against him, the rat's will slowly bending to the horrible realization of just /how/ much his passions and work hurts her. Morals, love, and a desire to see both Ivalice and Ainsley free war on his face. His knees give out, and he collapses to the ground.

"I bloody well know that!" Screams the rat at his twin, before it fades into a low sob.

"I...I know oft go too far, that mine feelings overwhelm me! I.../damnit/, I just wish a world free of corruption. The one I love, just as I love thee Ainsley! And...how? How shouldst I strike away evil when 'tis hidden in every heart and face without destroying innocent and guilty alike, or driving a knife into the heart of the one I love? Without giving all that I am?"

Mizuki's own words echoes Ainsley's, and slowly, it dawns on him, the true measure of the problem. His own wrath and fury, though powerful, may one day truly draw him into the heart of the Stone.

Faruja laughs, bitter and hallow. "...I am a fool. Every time I lose mineself truly to absolute fury, to hate. 'Tis a damned wound to her heart. One that kills us both."

Faruja nods to Mizuki, and slowly gets up. He's barely able to, and likely has to lean on the smaller girl as he looks his twin in the eye.

"But I am more than fury. Mine fire shan't be quenched, but it shall be /controlled/. Be gone, ye twisted mockery of the shadow that hungers for mine soul. I am better than this wound, this monster. I can /be/ better than ye. I hath a lover and a friend. Alone I cannot heal her wound. But all /three/ of us can, if we share our love and friendship."

He turns to the Ainsley-image. "Ainsley. I /will not/ die. I shan't leave ye alone in the perfect world I envision. We shall share it, help build it, together my love."

The rat licks his muzzle, after Mizuki speaks.

"Please, Ainsley. 'Tis more to this than a single blow. What else troubles ye, mine love?"

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Mizuki's gentle smile grows wider after hearing Faruja speak, and she bows her head to him. Again directing her words at no one aside from perhaps the world around her, she muses, "For so have you entranced his spirit that he would put you before not only his God, but even his life's mission. Such love will be the spark that starts his heart when a blade has stayed its rhythm, as well as the cool breeze that levels the furnace of his soul." She lowers her gaze more still, folding her hands placidly. "That is what I see in the pair of you, even with the most cursory of glances."

    After, she assures Faruja further with a direct grin, and a nod. If nothing else, she's pretty good with her brand of pep talks.

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    The image of Faruja does not seem like a thing that can be verbally beaten into submission. It just watches him, caring not for his passion or his fervor or his faith. It is the constant reminder of what Ainsley stands to lose, the threat of a pain that will haunt her. It does not care about Faruja's hope or his happiness or his love, and in fact those notions only seem to strengthen the worry that fuels it.

    "You speak as if I was not a part of her mind, like I'm a demon in anything but the mental sense." It does not seem impressed. "Your soul? Daft." It smiles at him, though. It's humorless and cold, but not malicious. And then it fades as yellow smoke.

    From a point near Mizuki and Faruja, Ainsley's voice speaks up. But it is not a single language, but all languages that Ainsley has learned. Many voices, all her own, thrum through the air. The effect is mind-bending, something that gives insight into how her mind processes languages and the things that exist outside reality. When they would turn, they would see that the priestess image is standing there, her mouth not moving, with bloody footprints leading from that point to the mirror as if she had walked there.

    The 'real' Ainsley still doesn't understand Mizuki, and so only gives a baffled look at her, frowning for a second. Maybe it's not getting through to her.

    "Nothing, witch," the priestess says with that gentle and yet unfathomably harsh voice. "She cannot see me, not as I am. I am her, she is me. But she cannot find me. Isn't that strange?" The priestess reaches out to touch Ainsley's cheek. There's no indication that the 'real' Ainsley can even feel it, even when a smear of blood is left there. "She is afraid of losing me, but she cannot even see me. She wants to know me, but refuses to see me. She does not accept herself, or perhaps she is just blinded."

    The priestess does seem, to Mizuki, like a manifestation of Ainsley's soul. This isn't just an image. This /is/ Ainsley, and the 'real' Ainsley is perhaps her mortal mind. There is such power and mysterious serenity in the priestess.

    The 'real' Ainsley walks over to a corner and curls up, shivering.

    "How did you get in here?" the priestess wonders at the two.

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja scowls, all but snarling at the image. "Oh piss off." Replies the mage, his good manners finally failing him. He quickly gets his wish, before turning to Mizuki. Whether her words help or not, might be up to debate.

He looks somewhere between wanting to hug the girl, or strangle her for words of utter Heresy. Possibly both. It all becomes a little too much, and the Inquisitor leans heavily on his cane.

"...Thank ye, Lady Mizuki." He finally mutters, the long-winded rat looking almost out of words, and already exhausted. Having your whole life thrown back at you tends to do that.

And then, Ainsley's love for language comes to haunt him as he swiftly covers his ears. They actually bleed from the pure force, and the rat trembles on his feet.

Faruja listens to the Priestess' words, his fire only simmering at this point. Curiousity, and then insight dawns. "That which is both integral to us, and yet unseen. That which may only be felt at our most direst need. ARt ye...her immortal soul, fair one?"

"She hath locked off emotion and her very being for fear of failing an ideal. Heh. I suppose we both share the flaw of being dreamers. She must open herself to ye. To /herself/. Can ye tell us anything? What is it ye desire?"

Faruja smiles slowly. "If ye art truly her soul, then I wouldst come to know thee wholly, if ye wouldst but let me." There's wonder in the rat's voice, an almost spiritual connection just out of reach with the woman he loves so.

The question has the rat indicating Mizuki. That's /her/ field.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    "Not -surprising-, per se," She begins her response, finally, looking at the 'priestess' for the time being, "as in my experiences most all people have some significant part of themselves that they are unwilling or incapable of acknowledging." She starts smiling now, though, picking up her gaze. "But that isn't to say that I am not interested. What different people consider of themselves unacceptable, or have trouble finding in the maelstrom of day-to-day life, varies quite dramatically. I suppose you could say what is unseen shapes the person as much as what is seen in spite of itself."

    "Indeed, she needs a mirror to reveal your visage. The curious mirror that is found without the eyes and words of other sentient life. One of the greatest paradoxes of our world, really, how we as individuals can scarce develop without outside influence, and yet only benefit from those lessons if we find the time to retreat within ourselves. But I am confident that she will come to know you in time, if only because we are here now. And on that note..." She shifts her arms behind her back again, "... how we came here, yes. Well, you see, I have a particular affinity for dreams and personal information that I have no right to. I should think that is a sufficient explanation for the time being, considering that you, if you are indeed what you claim to be, should know that my intentions are far from malicious."

    Mizuki waves a hand gently in Faruja's direction afterwards. "Think nothing of it. 'Tis but the truth." Turning back to the priestess now, though, she quirks an eyebrow. "I share Faruja's inquiries, if you are willing to indulge our curiosity."

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    The 'soul' of Ainsley looks at Faruja and frowns at his words. "In as much a soul can be," she admits to him, however, "I am her ideal self. I am a creature she knows but does not understand. In a sense, I am her inner potential, all she has been and all she ever will be. My form is malleable, as all mortal beings are. I am the power of her magic. The touch of the storm, the power of the blood."

    She smiles at Faruja. "I'm afraid you already know me as much as anyone can possibly hope."

    She looks at Mizuki, then. "The Quetzal," she says, softly, but with a thousand languages, "Are a people of the Sight. Dreams are a part of that. We can see into the past, and into the future, if we train ourselves to do it, but they always come in the visions are always dreams, and never easy to interpret. You could say that I am a kindred spirit, a creature less evolved but similar."

Faruja (152) has posed:
"Outward wisdom and introspection." Mutters the rat at Mizuki's words, contemplating. A small nod from Faruja.

"And more importantly, shouldst Ainsley truly look within? She shall find thee. Her inner potential as ye say."

Faruja finally laughs as the Priestess speaks.

"Mayhaps so! Ahh, but if only I couldst cradle potential and her body at once! Instead, I shall find satisfaction in this view of what she could be." Everything that she is. Faruja shivers, the previous pain and now this joy of seeing Ainsley's innermost being mixing. He's /definitely/ leaning on Mizuki at this point.

"We shall help her come to know thee."

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    "Quetzal, hmm." Mizuki returns with a slow nod. "Clairvoyants and dream watchers." And a smirk. "I seem to be finding no small number of kindred spirits lately myself, honestly. But I suppose that explains a few of Miss Ainsley's interests." As Faruja leans, she gives him a soft pat on the shoulder, and that same, friendly smile. "Indeed, we shall. But that brings me back to another question that I had before." Reassuming a more 'professional' stance, and looks to the priestess, eyes flashing with interest.

    "This is an offshoot of some reoccurring dream of hers. Would you mind terribly explaining to us, or showing to us, what it would have entailed had we not intervened? A cursory glance at the manifest content would likely be quite beneficial for the purposes of giving the 'real world' Ainsley some peace of mind." She allows herself to smile and laugh silently. "... certainly her thoughts stand to gain nothing through their host's exhaustion."

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    The mirror Ainsley looks at Mizuki for a long time... not answering immediately. She eventually decides to reveal to the dream witch what it is. "I will show you, then." She waves her hand, and steps back, fading like smoke. The dream takes a dark turn. With the image of a true self gone, the room starts to fill with blood, which bleeds through the pages that make the walls, the floor, the ceiling. It surges and then it's gone...

    In its place, a dark abyss. Ainsley is not there. Instead there's an image of a small Quetzal girl, Ainsley in childhood. She's curled up and staring into the dark. The unknown. Everything around them pulses with something alive, though. Something outside of normal perception. Mizuki would know it as something... empty.

    Something very hungry.

    It claws at the back of the mind and demands to be let in. But it's only a memory of something that she experienced when she was young, something that never got a foothold in her mind.

    Whatever it was, it's gone now.

Faruja (152) has posed:
By the time the image is over? Faruja can't help but quiver. That horrid, dark emptiness. So very hungry...

It speaks to the horrid dreams that plague him, and the stone so eagerly waiting to devour his soul at the moment of weakness that he may show.

When it ends? He'll try to hug the mirror-Ainsley so very close.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Or show them! In fact, that will probably be better for their purposes. So she nods just in time for the spectral Quetzal to move back and fade into a black similar to that which then begins to envelop them. Then the walls bleed. Crimson seeps through the pages and falls around them slowly, as though as it were some sort of insipid rain in a world of halted time.

    Thankfully, this likely doesn't last long enough to traumatize a certain priest that may be sensitive to it. Nor Mizuki herself, apparently; through it all she remains perfectly still, hands rested neatly over the pommel of her sword in reticent observance, scanning her changing surroundings until she is able to focus on the smaller Quetzal. She rightly assumes her identity, but does not approach yet, instead allowing some of the feelings of the pulsing dark to permeate her being. She waits until she has some impression of its nature; its intent, if indeed it can have such a thing.

    And it does. Among the most primal of goals in the world, though: to consume. Something beyond their notice scrapes at the outskirts of her mind, and to her, the effect is not at all unlike nails clawing at a chalkboard. She winces.

    "If she recognizes you, then you would most certainly be a better person to offer her comfort. Do so, if you feel comfortable." Nevertheless, she takes a few steps towards child Ainsley, fixing her gaze on roughly the same spot, and staring. Then she levels her blade in its direction. "Phantoms of the past, hear me: you have long since failed in your endeavors to taint this soul. Your threats are devoid of meaning. You are but an empty husk conjured by the mind of one who once feared you; the embodiment of a mental scar with no substance." She adjusts her sword stance. "It is not my place to banish you, but it is my place to expose you for the hapless nothing that you have become. Begone."

    With that, she moves her sword in a single, relatively gentle diagonal slash. It isn't meant as a genuine 'attack', really. Just a stroke to symbolize any damage she may have dealt by pointing out that the only threat this... thing... poses is intangible.

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    Mizuki would have been better off not speaking to it. The sword would stop dead, pointing directly at where Ainsley was looking at, as if it just slapped into a big glob of tar. The ensuing feeling, even without the entity behind it, is like touching a fragment of Cthulhu. A madness seeps through the blade and tries to touch the dream witch, but it cannot really harm or infect her. But the /idea/ wants to. Magic tends to leave scars like this.

    Incomprehensible whispers, not any known language, surge up at her. This is not as simple as a childhood fear. It's not easily struck down. A hint of something dark and terrible and outside of conventional understanding.

    Young Ainsley closes her eyes and curls up tighter, then fades away. Mirror Ainsley returns where she once stood. She sniffs and looks down at the sword, and then over to Mizuki, quirking a corner of her mouth.

    "Have you seen dreams like this before?" the mirror image wonders, "It is not easy to conquer something that defies rationality."

    Mirror Ainsley looks over to Faruja, briefly, smiling at him knowingly.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Her blade stops, and her body absorbs some of the imaginary recoil in the form of a backward push. She gradually steadies herself afterwards, desummoning her sword as soon as she has her bearings. There's a much more pensive look on her face now. Is this a foreign presence that has yet to leave? Normally, those are quite easily expunged. In this case, though, it seems more deep-seated. Even if no 'tangible' traces of its influence and magic remain, it /had/ been here for quite a long time. Long enough for its roots to spread far and deep through the channels of her mind, far too much of each for her to be able to remove it through exposing its paradoxical existence.

    Yes, because this is the worst kind of mental monstrosity: a self-aware one that is able to give itself substance with the very elements that should deny its right to live. In a few words, something more like her than she is used to dealing with. She exhales.

    "Yes, I have. Albeit very infrequently." She looks to the young Quetzal. "But this is, mercifully, something that I understand. I live in a place that defies rationality, after all. I am a being that defies rationality. Though, I did significantly underestimate how involved this parasite had become with the workings of Ainsley's mind."

    She folds her arms. "The solution to this will be a bit more of a challenge than would the utterance of motivational words and the sharing of affectionate gestures, yes. But if I may ask, if Ainsley has since been rid of this foulness, why has it only returned now? Is it constantly fighting for entry, and does it gain ground when her defenses wane?"

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    "This is just a dream. But I'm a creature of magic, so the scar has enough meaning to do this," the image tells Mizuki. "I don't know what it means, but enough has happened to bring it back to the front of my mind. People overtaken by a darkness, or threatened by it. D, Harry Dresden, the Mimigas, the curse in Lordran, the influence on Ember..." A glance at Faruja for a moment, thoughtfully, as she trails off. "Those events remind me of this, somehow. Like it's similar, but those moments provide no answers, only a reminder of a hunger that I feared. It's not vampirism, or a dark curse, or something I can understand."

    There's a beat... and an image appears nearby. A silhouette of a humanoid, but it's made of white noise. A distant but screaming and wrathful white noise. "This is the Untold, an entity that is... a being left unwritten into the history of a world. The scraps that never made it into the plan, angry that they were abandoned. That is about all that can be understood of it, and the closest to what invokes this dream, and though it's still a far way off, it hungers too."

    She shrugs at Mizuki. "The dream doesn't get worse than this. The influence is gone already, and unlikely to return. But mortal minds don't forget something like this easily."

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Mizuki's smile slowly returns as Ainsley's mind elucidates things. She nods along, closing her eyes in contemplation. "Yes. The worlds of imagination and reason are separate, but nonetheless planes that affect eachother in profound ways. Events that occur in one will often provide keys to doors in the other, and..." Her smile fades again. "... and sometimes, said doors are better left sealed. Far better. Still, I agree with your thoughts on the matter. What she has seen lately could easily have dredged up memories. D's predicament in particular was far too vivid a reminder of what a terrible burden can do to even the most collected of minds. I am not as learned with regards to the others, but I shall assume they relate similarly."

    The subject of the Untold gives her pause for a moment. "... hmm. So not at all unlike 'Them', from what I understand. The Them that Abstractum were crafted to combat." Sigh. "I must admit, I feel some pangs of sympathy for each of these parties. Though their desires often run counter to those of the more stable physical realms, they are not 'evil'. They are far more like them than they are typically willing to understand. Like others, they yearn for company. For a life of experience. Their jealousy and pain cause them to contort in ways from which they may never recover, however, and..." She averts her gaze for a moment, squeezing her eyes shut. "... and then there is naught that anyone can do. I do so wish that I could shepherd them from their paths of self-destruction, but I fear that my soul lacks the solidarity to do so. Nevertheless... if my thoughts may reach them, somehow, and make them feel as though they are not entirely forsaken, then that shall satisfy me for the time being."

    She shakes her head. "But I should at least attempt to remain focused on the subject of the hour." She folds her hands. "Poor Miss Ainsley. Caught in a conflict older than time, and a conflagration that has left its smoldering remains with her forever. Indeed, she may never 'forget' these trials, but if I were to recommend any method of medication, I would simply suggest that she continues to do her best in aiding those who remind her of her own pain. If she can free these Mimiga from their torment, then perhaps she may find some peace in knowing she was essential in the banishing of another person's demons."

    Her expression relaxes, becoming a bit more warm. "Though already she has done so much to allay D's suffering. Surely, she may find some solace in knowing that she gave him another chance at freedom. Without her, I cannot say where he would be at this moment..."

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    The mirror image of Ainsley stares with only the vaguest indication of understanding. A dream image is not very good at facial expression. "I'm not going to accept myself, by helping others. That's only a distraction," she tells Mizuki, "Perhaps the Abstractum conflict would trigger it, or I'll die first. It depends on how events unfold."

    She shrugs her shoulders. And them the dream fades away completely, but Ainsley is still seated there, asleep and peaceful. Probably not dreaming in any way that can be physically represented beyond a darkness that embodies the comforting embrace of slumber.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Mizuki's expression dips at her reply, if faintly. "... I shall endeavor to find more relevant methods of aiding you, then. I am sorry that I was not able to... better assist..." Before she is able to complete her statement, the dream begins to fade around her. "... until next we meet, I sincerely hope that you - all of you - can progress smoothly on your desired path of growth and reconciliation. Farewell."

    Then, she's back. She gives Ainsley a lingering look tinged with a subtle hint of gloom and sits down in the velvet seat behind her desk, exhaling. She eventually glances to Faruja and adds, "It has been far, far too long since I last attempted such a thing. It would appear that I've grown a bit rusty."

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja leans back in his seat, looking tired and drained. More than anything? He seems horridly worried for the state of his lover. He doesn't bother trying to hide it as he walks over to lay beside Ainsley, holding her head to his chest.

"...Still. Thank ye, Mizuki. This hath given me much to think of. We...promise me we shall see her through?" There's tears lingering in his natural eye as he looks hopefully towards the woman who made this whole introspection possible.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Mizuki stares back a moment before squeezing her eyes shut. "... as much as I want to promise for the sake of your emotional well-being that this will be resolved, I can never know for certain. If I said I knew anything, I would be lying." Her eyes reopen. "Though I will promise to do what I can, yes. I swear to do all that I can to help you both."

    She folds her hands in her lap afterwards. "You are a very loyal and patient friend, and these are undoubtedly the traits that matter most in cases such as this one. Some of what you see may test your faith and your willpower, but so long as you continue to believe in Ainsley, I believe that you, at least, will be able to stay the course. Whether or not that will be enough to rid her of these curses, though, I cannot say."