"Dreams for sale! Buy a dream here! Lucid dreams 25% off!"
Intruigued, you enter the tent. A bent old man stands before you. His tent is large, lined with beds, mattresses, sleeping bags, blankets, hammocks, cushions, and pillows. The air smells of incsence, and of sleep.
"Here to buy a dream, lad?" He asks, his beard wisping past his belt. As you examine the room, you noticed irredecent vials litter every open space.
"I might," you are wary, unsure of what he has to offer you. "What have you got?"
Reaching into the deep pockets of his robe, he pulls vial after vial out and places them on a table before you. "Well, I have sweet dreams, of meadows and prairies, i have night terrors, nightmares, oddities, plain dreams, good dreams, One of THOSE dreams, where everything turns out great for you, and Lucid dreams, which today only are twenty five percent off." The old mans face is animated as he lists the dreams he is selling, and places the vials on the dark wooden table. He reaches into his pocket and removes a dark, sea blue vial. It shimmers turquoise, yellow, green, and pink.
"What about that one?" You ask, drawn to its beauty.
Fear flashes in the little merchants eyes, as he speaks, his voice is quiet, and hesitant. "That? Oh, thats the Wandering dream." He is avoiding your gaze. "It is a dream you call upon any moment, and your whole body is engulfed." He is reaching towards the breathtaking blue vial. "It costs more than you will likely be willing to pay." His hand wraps around the shimmering glass. "Trust me laddie, you dont want this one." He looks at you, his eyes now seemed weary.
"I want that one." You say, intently.
"You...what?" The dream merchant gulped. "You dont know what youre saying, boy." Theres almost pity in his voice.
The more he tries to sway you from it, the more you want it. "No. I want that one. How much?" You reach for a bag of coins in your boot. "How much?" You ask again.
The man grabs your arm, stopping it, "Not coins boy."
How could one pay for things without coins? "What?"
"It costs blood. And time."
You shrug, "That doesnt sound too awful. I will take it." Youre a daredevil. You do this for sport; take chances that may cost you dearly.
"You....youre sure?" The old man's bushy eyebrows raise with the question.
You nod, "Yes."
The man tells you to lay your hand on the table. He pulls out a knife. Quickly, he makes a cut down the center of your palm, and cuts two lines crossing it diagonaly. You bite your tounge to stem the pain, trying to focus on something else. The man quickly takes out a clear little bottle, removes the cork, and, after soaking a small white cloth in your blood, fills it with the sticky re d liquid that keeps you alive.
"Whats that for?" You ask, nodding at the bottle.
"You'll see." Says the man as he bandages your wound.
"What is your name?" You ask, not really caring.
"I am called Deiren." Deiren never looks up at you while he works. After a few ,inutes, you get your hand back, and watch with curiousity as he pours your blood into the blue vial. He shakes it, then hands it to you.
"Drink it." He says flatly.
He just poured your blood into that, "What? No!"
"Don't be a fool, laddie, youve only got fifteen minutes left before the dream dies. Drink it now or it will never work!" Deiren urges you, the pity still shadowing his eyes.
You pull the vial from his hands, and sniff it. It smells of sweetness. It smells of sleep. Squeezing your eyes shut, you knock it back, drinking the whole thing. When you open your eyes, you are standing outside. Deiren is gone, and so is the vial. In its place, in your bandaged left hand, is a shimmering, irredecent, deep blue glass pendent. It is simple, just a triple figure eight, and it is attached to a black cord. By instinct, you put it around your neck and stumble back into the crowded market.
Each story starts the same. An innocent person, curious, buys a Wandering Dream from Deiren Dornhold. He does not wish to cause them harm. He just wishes to sell his wares. There are many people, men and women, who bear the deiren on their palm; a straight line crossed twice. There are few that have met anyone like them. Theyy slip in and out of worlds, waking, and dream world. The hardest part is keeping the nightmares in the dream world, and out of the waking world.
Keiren Farenstrong, a young man, two years shy of twenty, has heard of a group of DornMayr, a small group of people who, like him, gave his blood for the vial. He will do anything to find them, how ever many worlds away they might be.
You may join as;
A) A bearer of the Deiren, searching for the DornMayr. Or for Keiren.
B) a normal person, perhaps victim of another merchan who swold you something powerful that cost you blood.
C) PM me your ideas so i can approve. Im writing this at like, three in the morning, so writing that hot mess above this, kinda sucked me dry, so if you have an idea, i would LOVE to hear it!!
Rules;
Follow Tess's rules.
Please GOD, use full sentences, punctuation, and grammar ^^
No over the top powers, gifts, or curses. If you want to create one, feel free to pm me and check if its ok
And just please, have fun
Form;
Full Name:
Age:
Bearer of the Deiren:
Bearer of Other:
Looks:
Personality:
Crush:
Pets:
Other:
Please, no more than three pets per character.
