Julrien Valebright

In Wildest Dreams

The house wore the soft, dark colours and glimmering starlight lamps of nightfall by the time they’d returned, creating a hushed familiarity that suited the young Knight’s frayed spirit just fine. Face to face with Sana’s broken silence, flanked by Lore’s calm acceptance and Julrien’s anything-but, a quiet evening had taken a different turn. They’d eventually fled like fugitives from the raw remorse of it all, into the comparative ease of their own space where they had little need of words to take care of one another. For Julrien himself, who had fallen apart.

He’d leaned on Lore far more than he might have wished through it all, though of course he’d been met with every ounce of the seer’s unwavering strength in return. It was nothing less than what he’d have given himself, were their roles reversed. But, of course… he couldn’t do what Lore could do. Where Lore’s pain and suffering were carefully examined, guarded well and eased like sunset into their place, Julrien’s tended to rail against him, twisting and raging with gale winds bent on destruction.

It was ultimately good that they’d spoken like that- letting the everyday silliness of their friendships fall away so they could really see one another. Sana had had things she’d needed to say as much as hear, and it was the same for Jules and certainly Lore as well. There was more to come, there had to be, but for now… for now….

The honeyed slowness in his movements only grew more obvious once he spotted their bed. The plush pillows that littered his side were a welcome sight, caught beneath heavy lids with bleary, bloodshot eyes. There were few words, with only the warm, welcome weight of Lore’s presence easing him into sleep at last.

He awoke to find himself blanketed by sunlight, with a sweetness in his lungs and the gentle caress of a summer’s breeze on his skin. The terrace garden, of course… only it wasn’t quite.

Distantly, he could see the glassed-in walls flickering before fading from sight, and the structures that held his carefully tended plants along with them. Slowly- almost hesitantly he thought- soft, golden light, streaked with pale green, began pouring in where they once stood. It gathered slowly at his feet, and he curled his bare toes in it like white sand at the shore, surprised to find it just as warm. 

Movement sounded behind him… and as the young Knight turned towards it, he found himself conscious of cheerful birdsong sounding through the place, woven around the steady pulse of cicadas that seemed to have always been there. Shifting hazily into view were no more than his own flowers, the very same gathering of living colours he’d grown himself- sprung from the ground as though wild instead. 

“Hello…?” he called out, or so he thought. It seemed there was no echo for his voice, as the world around him shifted again, shedding the last vestiges of the familiar terrace to leave him standing in the midst of an emerald grove bathed in a perfect midday gold.

He could swear he heard it again, however, a faint fluttering, like canvas caught by the wind. It flew past him, behind the flowers- his flowers, even here- before he could see, and he found himself moving towards it with slow, deliberate steps. 

“Who are you?” he tried again. It never occurred to him that ‘it’ may not be able to answer. 

“I’m afraid.” He felt it more than heard it, not unlike how he and Lore could share their thoughts along the bond they’d created together- registering deep in his centre, rather than his head. 

“Don’t be- I won’t hurt you,”  he sought instinctively to soothe the ‘voice’, even as a sense of apprehension settled in the pit of his belly. It was his dream again- just like all the other times. That unknowable ‘attachment’, as Lore thought of it, that kept beckoning to him, offering words of welcome and warning in the very same breath. He had considered seeking out an alchemist, like the Illidari he’d overheard that night at the Shielded Mind… so he could sleep, like he so sorely needed, without its ceaseless presence. 

And yet, as he neared what he felt to be its source, he couldn’t help but feel almost protective of it… this ‘other’, stemming from his subconscious, he reasoned, that just seemed to want him safe. There was something decidedly childlike in it, in spite of the wisdom it professed to offer.

“I’m not in danger… I promise. Just… tell me what I need to know…” he implored the ‘other’, dropping to his knees with steady fingers sifting through the flowers as though they belonged there- and perhaps they did. 

“You already know.- you’ve just forgotten! But I can help you see. You’re safe here, with us, if you need it. I’ve seen you, and I know your heart,” it answered, clearer than anything he’d heard from it before. His heart raced, even as his body went still, as though fearful of sudden movements bringing it all to a close. 

“… I’m safe where I am. I can’t-” he stopped, lifting keen, bright eyes- always the brilliant blue he was born with- skyward. What was this?

“But the Shadow is not one of ours. It makes me afraid. Does it make you afraid? What of your mate?”

A tremor shook through the perfect verdant-gold of the place, as though this ‘other’s’ fears were reflected in the sun-dappled leaves themselves. Or perhaps Julrien’s own. 

“Of course,” he managed, hands bracing in the familiar, cool earth as he strained to peer through the greenery in earnest. “Of course he’s scared. Of course I’m scared too. But I trust things are going to work out as they should. We’re going to see somebody about it and-”

“But you belong here. Maybe… maybe if you just stay a little while…”

“What do you mean!?” he hastily interjected, delving deeper still into the bed of flowers… and then all at once he saw it- a pair of vibrant, gold-hued eyes, flecks of green in their wide, unblinking stare.

Julrien gasped and flung an arm outward, grasping at nothing and finding just as much. Around him, the blankets lay tangled beyond use, Lore’s soft, sleeping breaths only just beginning to reach him through the deep haze of his dream.

His dream… tonight  it had been clearer than anything he’d seen or heard yet, though he still struggled to understand what part of him could summon such a scene to mind. It was passing strange, not the least of which for the mix of intimate comfort seamlessly threaded through it all.

“You belong here.”  

Where, exactly, did that mean?