11-10-2023, 09:58 PM
(This post was last modified: 11-21-2023, 06:54 PM by Jaxen Marveet.)
[[Continued from Almaz; this scene isn't in the world of dreams, but this was the best option.]]
The room with the far was brighter than he remembered.
The walls were white? They should be stone. Wood beams. A sophisticated bar.
He glanced over his shoulder to see if Ashton saw what he saw, only, there was no Ashton. Instead, a curtain of light shimmered floor to ceiling like a portal.
“Uhh—“ he licked his lips, but when he reached out to swipe the curtain, it disappeared.
He turned in a circle. Almaz had transformed into an impossibly smooth tunnel. The world around him was awash with a brightness that seemed to have no source; the light simply was, as if the air itself exuded a soft glow. Everything curved and spiraled into itself—the ceiling, the floor, even the air seemed to twist in a gentle helix above him.
Now this should normally be a little distressing. Jumping from Almaz’s underground club to some sort of sci-fi looking world, but given that Jaxen lived through two similar experiences, he was more annoyed than disturbed.
He began to walk, stepping lightly to avoid drawing attention to himself until he better understood what was happening.
The architecture was a marvel, he admitted, an endless enigma of snakelike structures that defied the laws of physics as he knew them. The walls bowed outward, ceilings arched into impossible heights before curling back into themselves, and the doorways were rounded, as if carved by the spinning of a giant potter’s wheel. Jaxen walked through one of these doorways, entering a chamber that seemed to lead into another, and then another, each one a perfect circle, each one leading back to the last.
At first, there was a calm curiosity in his stride. He admired the fluidity of the design, the way the circular windows refracted the light into rainbows that danced across the curved walls. He might have thought it an elaborate illusion until he ran his hand along a banister, feeling the smoothness of its twist, impressed by the craftsmanship and appreciating how real it truly was. But as he walked, a realization began to dawn on him: no matter how far he walked, he was getting nowhere. Each turn, each spiral staircase, brought him back to a place eerily similar to the last.
Panic fluttered in his chest, and with a frown, Jaxen picked up his pace. The rounded hallways seemed to stretch and grow with his expanding alarm. He started to run, the sound of his footsteps echoing against the undulating surfaces, a maddening cacophony in the brightness. Doors that once seemed inviting now mocked him, leading him in looping paths that had no end, no escape.
His breaths came in ragged gasps as he pushed himself to run faster, the world blurring into a whirl of light and color. But no matter how desperately he sprinted, the realm kept him ensnared within its serpentine grasp, an endless maze designed not to confine the body, but almost as if meant to entrap the mind. Jaxen was beginning to realize that this alien world of curves and spirals might be more than just a labyrinth—it might be a trap from which there was no escape.
At the end of a final spiral, he clenched his fists and summoned the Ancient Power to his grasp. One way or another, he was getting out of there. A sly lick of the lips and he prepared to hurl a knot toward the wall.
That was when he heard a voice, not unlike the speech of the naga, but more sinister.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” it said.
The room with the far was brighter than he remembered.
The walls were white? They should be stone. Wood beams. A sophisticated bar.
He glanced over his shoulder to see if Ashton saw what he saw, only, there was no Ashton. Instead, a curtain of light shimmered floor to ceiling like a portal.
“Uhh—“ he licked his lips, but when he reached out to swipe the curtain, it disappeared.
He turned in a circle. Almaz had transformed into an impossibly smooth tunnel. The world around him was awash with a brightness that seemed to have no source; the light simply was, as if the air itself exuded a soft glow. Everything curved and spiraled into itself—the ceiling, the floor, even the air seemed to twist in a gentle helix above him.
Now this should normally be a little distressing. Jumping from Almaz’s underground club to some sort of sci-fi looking world, but given that Jaxen lived through two similar experiences, he was more annoyed than disturbed.
He began to walk, stepping lightly to avoid drawing attention to himself until he better understood what was happening.
The architecture was a marvel, he admitted, an endless enigma of snakelike structures that defied the laws of physics as he knew them. The walls bowed outward, ceilings arched into impossible heights before curling back into themselves, and the doorways were rounded, as if carved by the spinning of a giant potter’s wheel. Jaxen walked through one of these doorways, entering a chamber that seemed to lead into another, and then another, each one a perfect circle, each one leading back to the last.
At first, there was a calm curiosity in his stride. He admired the fluidity of the design, the way the circular windows refracted the light into rainbows that danced across the curved walls. He might have thought it an elaborate illusion until he ran his hand along a banister, feeling the smoothness of its twist, impressed by the craftsmanship and appreciating how real it truly was. But as he walked, a realization began to dawn on him: no matter how far he walked, he was getting nowhere. Each turn, each spiral staircase, brought him back to a place eerily similar to the last.
Panic fluttered in his chest, and with a frown, Jaxen picked up his pace. The rounded hallways seemed to stretch and grow with his expanding alarm. He started to run, the sound of his footsteps echoing against the undulating surfaces, a maddening cacophony in the brightness. Doors that once seemed inviting now mocked him, leading him in looping paths that had no end, no escape.
His breaths came in ragged gasps as he pushed himself to run faster, the world blurring into a whirl of light and color. But no matter how desperately he sprinted, the realm kept him ensnared within its serpentine grasp, an endless maze designed not to confine the body, but almost as if meant to entrap the mind. Jaxen was beginning to realize that this alien world of curves and spirals might be more than just a labyrinth—it might be a trap from which there was no escape.
At the end of a final spiral, he clenched his fists and summoned the Ancient Power to his grasp. One way or another, he was getting out of there. A sly lick of the lips and he prepared to hurl a knot toward the wall.
That was when he heard a voice, not unlike the speech of the naga, but more sinister.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” it said.