The forest shot by him. Bushes and trees mingled, a thick canopy overhead hinted by the densely packed undergrowth. Noises in the distance, the smell of fresh blood. He felt a mixture of foreboding and anticipation, and to be honest, a splash of excitement. He pushed through the bushes, and then in a flash found himself sat upon a bed. He saw a blur of orange before him, for just a moment, then stood from the bed and stood in the center of the street.
Beside him was a form, humanoid, but he couldn't tell much more than that. Even the blobs gender was unknown, but he knew that it had become night time. The moon hung high overhead, its fullness illuminating the streets below in a silver light. Words were exchanged between himself and the blob, but they were still a conglomerate of muffled words and reverberation. The two walked down the street, turned the corner, then stood somewhere new.
It was a home, he thought. It felt like home if nothing else. The building was certainly not what it once was, at least he hoped. Certainly this had to be a deteriorated state, and not what someone built by intent.
He felt high off the ground, and before him again was the blob. He could make out a color now. It was as though the once colorless form had taken in the glow of the moon. The sounds it made were less muffled, and by the tone he could tell it a woman. She spoke, but not to him. The orange from before, shorter in stature than himself or the blob, stood in a way that looked like his hands were on his hips. As the blob turned its attention to him, he saw it slowly start to crumble into dust.
He felt panicked. His heart was racing as he saw the crumbling away of the formless shape, being pulled through the air like the sands of time on wind. He rushed forward, yet the faster he ran the more it felt like the distance grew. He couldn't close the gap, and the rest of the world around him began crumbling into the same dust. The white glow, the home, the memories. All were gone, like dust in the wind.
Suddenly he stopped and felt it. A suffocating presence, something foreign, invading his mind. He felt as if he were trapped in a cave, as if a foreign presence were assaulting his mind. He felt himself crumbling, falling into the same wind. He closed his eyes, and a sort of peace enveloped him. A peace in memories that didn't make themselves clear now, but were as much a part of him as his DNA. He felt like he could relax into it. He could go, knowing he had lived his story. He felt the peace like a white light, a beautiful white with just a splash of red.
"You found me."
His eyes shot open, his body immediately spiking to a ninety degree angle in bed. The light covers fell from his body, revealing a chest and stomach devoid of scars but rippled through consistent effort. His chest heaved, and a cold sweat dripped from the tip of his nose and onto the bed. His face swung around, ensuring that his surroundings were still there in tangible form, before closing his eyes. He took a couple of deep breaths, one after the other, to steady his nerves.
Then, he fell back onto the bed with his arms out wide.
His eyes were open, tired and emotionless, as his mouth closed and his breathing went back to normal. He looked up at the ceiling, a blank expression on his face. The images he had only just seen had already started their descent into obscurity. Raising a single hand to his face, he brushed his hair from his forehead and pressed his palm to his hairline, holding the strands away from his eyes.
He lay there, motionless, for just a few moments before deciding he wouldn't be going back to sleep. Standing and glancing at the clock, he saw that it wasn't yet late. Ten at night, on the dot.
He stood from the bed and walked himself to the shower, turning on the sink and splashing his face with cold water. Using a dry cloth, he slowly patted away the sweat that had accumulated from his dream, then got dressed. He was casual, by his standards. A pair of khakis, black shoes that looked suitable for work but missing any sort of laces, and a button up blue shirt that he took up to the third to last button. It exposed just below his collar bone, up to his neck.
Stepping out into the cold night air, and locking his motel room behind him, he began walking down the street and rolling his sleeves up.
He didn't have to go long before he found himself at the only pub within a few blocks, the Swineherd. He didn't hesitate, pushing the door open and making his way through the sparsely filled room and finding a seat right at the bar, all the way at the end on the right side.
Despite the lack of business, the bartender took his time. A few minutes passed before he finally made his way to Jove, taking his order for a glass of whisky on the rocks. As the owner of the establishment stepped away, Jove found peace in the fact that the dream had all but slipped from his mind. He remembered the mix of emotions he'd felt throughout seeing it, but the details of it had already crumbled away at the base, leaving only emotion and intent behind.
"What was that." His words came out quietly, directed only to himself, as the glass was pushed before him and the bartender gave him a questioning look. He didn't stick around though, going back to his job. No doubt he was use to seeing strangers in a city like Oak, especially when he owned such a famous establishment, but something about Jove seemed to make him weary. Perhaps the old man could sniff out Rune Knights.
Taking a sip from his drink, and feeling the maple aged liquid cool his throat, he placed it down and let out a content sigh that came after drinking ice cold alcohol. He just needed to take his mind off of whatever it was that had just happened in his subconscious.