Braewin tossed and turned in his sleep, dreaming fitfully of the sights and sounds that ended up soaking his bedsheets and woke him with the sound of his own screaming, both on many more occasions than he ever cared to admit.
"Another one ..." the Bosmer groaned to himself as he slicked sweat-saturated hair away from his face.
He clamored to his feet not long after, the dim light of the room being kind to his tired eyes. It was madness to keep having those nightmares, even if he knew he wasn't the only one afflicted with such things. Dagon had disturbed everyone. That mad and twisted Daedra. He would've killed him himself if he'd gotten the chance.
... not that he'd be able to. It's not like he was powerful or anything. Quite the opposite. He was weak. He was pitiful. He'd proven that at Kvatch.
"Screw it."
He also hated trying to argue with himself over things like that. So much that he groped around for his last remaining pair of pants and stepped into them, not long after going for his weapons. With each tucked away carefully, he crawled out his tent and into something he never expected.
"W-what?!"
He'd fallen asleep at his 'home' in Loamhill, only to wake up ... where?
Where the hell was this? Was he dead? Everything was ... so colourful? Everything was so ... bright. He'd never imagined there were so many colours in such bright hues before ...
Beyond Oblivion
The official guild for the minishop Beyond Oblivion!
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