A Moment Mist

On this night, the dream guides us solemnly towards the past, hovering over a moment missed. We see the cold halls of Ezorod, and the low light present in the upper floors, where the denizens of the bubble city rest their heads. We float down the hall, picking up speed as a small, feminine form passes underneath, and heads through one of the doors. We see Abelina, a bundle of linens under one arm, staring at the furry form writhing on the bed. Mist's body is lathered with sweat, his arms and legs bound in the sheets as he tosses and turns, a shrill whine escaping his lips. In the shadowed corner, Chamas leans forward to make himself known, and shakes his head.

Chamas: "No change. Warden's out."
Abelina: "Not screaming, at least. I brought fresh bedding."

Chamas nods, and unceremoniously lifts Mist from the bed. As Abelina changes the sheets, she watches the Lashunta carefully, her soft eyes searching for something in all the grime and malice. As the process is nearly finished, Chamas meets her gaze.

Chamas: "I won't kill him."
Abelina: "Really? I thought that was your thing. Nihilism and death?"

Chamas stares blankly at Abelina, and a frosty silence breezes between them.

Abelina: "Nihilism is-"
Chamas: "I know what it means, and I meant what I said. I won't kill him."

Chamas finally places Mist on the bed, and Abelina tucks him in. The Ysoki never stops his squirming, pupils wide and wild under half-open eyelids, and quickly destroys the carefully placed sheets. But at least they're clean. Abelina looks back to Chamas, her expression searching.

Abelina: "Why not?"
Chamas: "Wh-- Do you want me to kill him?"
Abelina: "No. I'm just saying what everyone else is thinking. Wait until he gets better, get off this rock, and--"

Abelina makes an exaggerated cutting motion about her neck, gesturing at Mist.

Abelina: "--you go free. A man like you could probably be out of the system tomorrow, with a whole new identity. So... Why not?"
Chamas: "What are you really asking?"

Abelina sighs, and walks to a nearby sink to wash her hands. She keeps her eyes locked on Chamas through the adjacent mirror. The mercenary looks nonplussed, but the Haze speaks of unease... A madness just below the surface, and a lifetime of pain. A pain that has led to wickedness.

Abelina: "Can we trust you?"
Chamas: "No."
Abelina: "No?"
Chamas: "I don't trust me."

The words echo in the air as Abelina finishes washing up, and turns. Within a breath, the engineer is at Chamas' face, the top of her head barely touching the height of his chin. The mercenary recoils, a hand going to the gauntlet at his belt, but Abelina follows him, eyes locked as the Lashunta reaches the wall.

Chamas: "Back."
Abelina: "Or you'll kill me?"

Nervousness radiates from Chamas, leaking strongly into the Haze, and for a moment the mercenary's eyes linger on his warden. Unseen to Abelina, there is a shift there... A choice is made. Smaller than an embryo in its conception, barely tapping at the deepest reaches of Chamas' subconscious, swimming in the red sea of madness.

Chamas' hand drifts away from the gauntlet.

Chamas: "No."
Abelina: "Good."

Faster than a sprite, Abelina is away, hand on the door. Chamas releases a slow, steady breath, eyeing the woman as if she were a roaring lion. He looks to Mist once more, and then moves to sit. But Abelina doesn't leave, and the final silence lingers...

Abelina: "If you're going to be here, you have to do more than killing, Chamas."
Chamas: "I know. Mist said I have to cook--"

Abelina laughs, and Chamas' face is hidden by the Haze. A small kindness, to save the fierce warrior no small embaressment.

Abelina: "Goodnight, Chamas."
Chamas: "Night..."

Abelina fades through the door, and Mist rolls in his sleep. A low moan escapes his lips, followed by a wild muttering.

Mist: "Cáemm aep Night... du cerbin shaente..."

The words cut the air, and ring like a bell. Chamas stiffens, and then jumps as he realizes his ears are bleeding. A low, crimson, cloying energy builds around his shoulders, and Chamas rolls -- not aware that what seeks him is not of the physical. The form leaps, a cloth attempting to enshroud the mercenary, but he bats it aside.

Chamas: "No! I said no!"

The mantle rushes forth, slithering for Chamas, but is stopped by his words. Without preamble, the being fades into a blood mist, leaving the faint smell of iron in the air. Chamas heaves, now as sweat-covered as his warden, and turns to the sink, splashing his face in cold water. The Haze says nothing -- it lets this moment stand in its own truth. But as the camera turns, we see something that Chamas does not.

A moment missed.

A new energy drifts forth, black and red and Chanting, and regards Chamas with great interest. But as the warrior drys himself with a towel, the energy fades, content to let the matter lie. And so Chamas returns to his chair, clearly rattled, but uncapable of processing the full extent of his emotions. As he calms, so too does the dream, and then it fades...