Postulation

We begin the dream with a question.
Caesura: “Who are you?”
We see the dingy back alley of some unknown metropolis, full of markers that could just as likely be Absalom Station, the Idari, or some city in the Vast. At the far-end of the narrow path, Caesura stands over a man in rough attire, covered in tattoos that mark the number of crimes completed. While the ink tells a tale of murder, theft, and deceipt, the dream shares with us the truth -- that this man’s only registered crime is a parking ticket. But it doesn’t hurt to look the part, when you’re --
Liam: “Liam Hilton. I’m a smuggler, and a drug dealer.”
Caesura nods, as if he already knows the information, but plays along.
Caesura: “What are you doing here, Liam?”
The man winces, veins bulging in his neck as he fights the inquiry, but eventually he exhales, and releases his secret.
Liam: “I had a buyer. Merchandise left behind is mine -- says so right in my papers.”
Caesura: “You leave a paper trail?”
Liam: “Figure of speech. It’s a verbal agreement, see? Anyways--”
Liam’s mouth moves for a moment, but no sound comes out, his eyes wide as he attempts to quit speaking. Caesura tuts, and a long, wicked Scythe appears in his hands, resting gently against the smuggler’s neck.
Caesura: “What was in the box, Liam?”
Liam shivers, his eyes darting to the blade against his jugular, and sighs.
Liam: “I don’t know what it was, only that it was potent. Froze my mate straight to pieces, see? It was like… The coldest ice in the world. But shaped like a feather. Like it’d come off some bird.”
Caesura: “Who did you sell it to?”
Liam: “I- I didn’t get a name--”
Caesura: “Where did they take it?”
Liam: “Id- The Idari. That Kasatha ship. You know it?”
Caesura’s expression darkens, and he lifts the blade away from Liam’s neck.
Caesura: “I know it.”
We end the dream with a question. A question with no answer, but which enforces the truth.
Caesura: “WHERE?”
The warrior vanishes, and Liam shrieks, suddenly alone in the alley.