DREAMS of a CLOUD
Peruse the many random ramblings of a writer-in-training as I build stories and develop my craft.
10 October 2022
I turned my attention back to the dioramas, and found one that seemed to represent her argument with the guard earlier. While both were jointed like artists’s mannequins, it was curious that only the guard had a proper face, while Elsenaia’s did not. Instead, she wore an elaborate silver diadem I hadn’t seen in real life. On top of that, she was held in place by puppet strings leading to the ceiling, although the guard had none.
After what I learned about Elsenaia and her past in the previous posts, it didn't make sense for some memories and ideas to be as accessible as they were, at least to me. I started trying to figure out what her life meant for the way her mental palace appeared and functioned, and rewrote the first introduction to the mental world here.
It's kind of fun, trying to put physical descriptions to such abstract ideas.
When I opened my eyes, to my surprise I was in a long, palatial hallway, perhaps thirty feet wide and fifteen feet tall, with innumerable mirrors spaced out along its walls. Here and there between them hung both gorgeous wall-to-ceiling paintings and life sized dioramas made with marionettes.
Meanwhile, I could sense Elsenaia trying to sift through my brain. She felt lost, and her frustration emanated out of the mirrors around me. Before I poked around the hallway, I asked, “Need help finding anything?”
“That will not be necessary.” The embarrassment I felt from the mirrors undercut the dignity she tried to project, but since I started remembering things, from old friends to travel locations, I figured she was getting the hang of it.
I turned my attention back to the dioramas, and found one that seemed to represent her argument with the guard earlier. While both were jointed like artists’s mannequins, it was curious that only the guard had a proper face, while Elsenaia’s did not. Instead, she wore an elaborate silver diadem I hadn’t seen in real life. On top of that, she was held in place by puppet strings leading to the ceiling, although the guard had none.
Out of curiosity, I touched the figure of the guard, and voices echoed around me. Somehow, I was able to understand everything perfectly, despite the fact the conversation was in Elvish. Direct brain-to-brain communication?
“You cannot mean to bond with this human?” the angry guard, labeled “Darrett”, demanded.
Waves of indignation pulsed out from the princess mannequin, indignation that hadn’t been visible in real life. I heard Elsenaia’s voice, where she sighed and replied, “Of course not. This is an interrogation not–”
“Huh,” I said to myself, and walked away. Some of the dioramas featured Tairsi or Darrett; others placed her on a throne before some ordinary citizens; and others what I assumed to be her family. In addition to her father and mother, she had one older brother and a pair of older twin sisters.
A painting on the wall gave a better depiction of them, at least at first. When I found it, it seemed for all the world like a normal royal family portrait. And yet, as I moved and the angle changed, the painting shifted. The king’s eyes grew darker, and his crown taller. The queen’s mouth disappeared, and she had a collar around her neck with a chain leading to the king’s hands. Elsenaia herself was once again faceless, while her brother now had an almost bestial snarl warping his face. One hand was held behind his back with the tip of a knife barely visible. Only her sisters looked relatively unchanged.
Intrigued, I walked down to the next portrait, which was much more straightforward. Tairsi, as a knight, kneeled before the faceless princess in all her glory on a throne. At Tairsi’s back, though, hidden in shadows, a young elven girl I guessed to be a younger Elsenaia reached out for her.
I stepped closer. Below the painting, a nameplate read “Loyal Knight”. I traced my finger along it, and a voice of a young girl came out of the painting. “I guess princesses aren’t allowed to have friends.”
As soon as the voice finished, though, mirrored walls slammed down around me like prison walls. I felt Elsenaia’s fear spike, and her voice boomed through the room I was now in. “Wha… You’re not… How are you in my head!?”
I shrugged. “I dunno. You’re the one who did the magicy bits. I didn’t even think magic was real an hour ago.”
I could sense Elsenaia’s disbelief change into shock as my memories verified what I said. I asked, “So, what do you know of that could cause this?”
She just shook her head. She seemed to be at a total loss, so I decided to poke around to find out if there was anything about the spell that might help.