A small black doe made her way across the hard ground of the birch forest, the sun bright in her eyes, making her way to where the others were gathering. She paused briefly to lift her face to the sun, closing her eyes and feeling the warmth. A small hesitation. A brief procrastination, before she carried on.

The dreams came more regularly now, in them she was not herself, walked on two legs, reached out with hands and touched the world, wandered great stone halls, visited a garden within those stones walls, sat by a fountain, peered beyond the stone to see great stretches of desert. She liked how she could manipulate the world with those hands, she liked how the linen felt against her bare skin and how the hot sun kept her warm. Feeling safe and secure, but at the same time wanting to go out there. To escape? Ah but only to explore. She didn’t really want to leave. But there was an undercurrent of unrest and also a foreboding of something…bad on the horizon.

The doe shook her head. How immediate the dreams seemed when she was in them and a growing fear that she would not awaken from them began to plague her. She had voiced this to Ephiré. To Gehirn. The raven stag had suggested a dreamwalk. To help her better understand the dreams. She found she wanted this and at the same time dreaded it. But she needed to face this. And she would not be alone, Ephiré had assured her that he would be there. That Gehirn could come too. She would not be alone in it. So she continued on her way. Finding the Raven Stag resting now in this secluded spot in the birch, a spot that was not often visited by other deer and far from their eyes. Settling down across from him in a soft spot in the grasses, she nodded to him, a small smile on her lips. She was ready.

The stag watched them come, Herla with bouncy, light steps; Gehirn dragging his feet along as if on his way to the gallows. He bowed his head at the pair, a silent greeting. He hoped they both would come through this unscathed.

He had just opened his mouth when the Irish spoke. He closed it again for a moment, then continued.
"...Hm? Yes... sleeping." He had taken off his mask for this, and an almost apologetic little smile played on his lips for a moment. "Don't worry about not being able to sleep. We're in no hurry." The stag's voice was raspy and unpleasant as always, and it seemed like it hurt slightly, as he spoke in short, cut off sentences. "We sleep, and then you will dream. We will meet there. I take care of it." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Not sure about our dream-shapes. We'll see."

"Questions?" he said eventually and moved and stretched his body a little, shaking away dust and making himself comfortable.

The stag nodded at Ephiré in reply. At least he didn’t have to rush. That did make it easier. Trying to sleep on commando suddenly seemed more difficult than it had been in the past.
Meeting in a dream. Just meeting. That seemed nice. Like his usual dreams that involved others, really. But they were always kind of wack. And they did often seem to involve him flying by flapping his antlers.
He shouldn’t be thinking of those things now. Though it would be fun if he could show it to Herla in the dream..
Ephiré said something about dream shapes, Gehirn realized. As he did, he felt the warm, small shape of Herla crawling into his side. His eyes glanced towards her, a smile on his face. Seemed he forgot about the idea of looking different in the dream.

Alright. The stag laid his head down on the ground, a deep breath leaving his lungs. Ephiré had found a spot he could reason with. Sunny. Likely he’d doze off soon. But he was nervous. This all did unsettle him, but Ephiré seemed very calm about it. Perhaps it was no big deal. Just saying hi to each other in a dream. Maybe some two leggeds involved. Maybe they’d just play poker. Maybe Herla would dance around a thin tree again.

His eyes were closed and he had an odd grin on his face.

Feeling safe nestled into the Irish, the small doe closes her eyes, his steady breathing next to her lulling her to sleep. It comes in the normal way, floating in blackness, warm, the beating of her own heart slow and easy now. She feels something a bit odd though, just for a second, a bright flash against her eyes, closed now as they would be in sleep, in her waking self, she might flinch ever so slightly. But it is gone and she is easy again. Her dream self opens her eyes now.

She is standing in a garden. The plants arranged in a thought out pattern and she knows that this was purposeful that somebody made it this way. A fountain in the center, sending a welcome mist of water droplets into the dry, hot air around her. She breathes it in. Notices tables about the edges of the garden, laden with foods. Things she has never seen before but none the less know what they are. Fruits. Dates and figs. Pineapples. Oranges. The oranges came from China. Plates of roasted meats. Cheeses. They smell good. Thick decorated carpets are scattered about the grass, piles of pillows upon them. Lots of places to rest and be at ease. Ornate palace walls surround the garden, great arched openings through which she can see large open rooms and hallways. A soft breeze moves through them, sheer drapes rustling slightly.

Taking a step on soft grass, she looks down at her bare foot. At her pink skin, covered in a translucent linen that sways in the breeze. Hands come up to her face and she smiles, turning them over, moving the fingers, touching her face, pulling her fingers through long black hair with bright feather plumes weaved in them. Her hands travel down her chest, a heavy jeweled collar lies over her breast, her hands continue down to her flat stomach, she splays her fingers there and frowns. Something missing there. But the thought is distant and the worry passes quickly as her eyes go back to what is around her.

Is she alone? She looks about. Weren’t there others that came with her? But it’s so hard to focus on that. This world consumes…all she ever knew. Her deer self fading into the background.

There! A shift in the mist. It thins out, lifts, and slowly the surroundings come into focus. Decorated high walls. A large, lush garden, a hot sun overhead, and the gentle sound of running water nearby. He stands very still, wary of disturbing anything, but relaxes after a moment. Things seem still. There doesn't seem to be anyone here, but suddenly a loud, vaguely crashing sound can be heard from behind a large blooming bush. Silently he steps forward, bending away its branches and peering out.
A large fountain, and beside it, a human. The peacock feathers nestled in her hair gives her identity away. He steps forward, with slow, unthreatening movements, eyes averted. He is not sure of how much she remembers and what she is used to, in these dreams.

His deer body has melted away, probably already in his mind's sea. Now he has the shape of human too. Some things hasn't changed -- his face and long hair, namely. They look like they usually do. The rest of his body is that of a human's, slightly underweight, very tall, and pale. His fingers seem just slightly too long for his hands, as do the rest of his limbs. He is wearing a long black skirt and nothing on his upper body. Fitting for the weather, certainly.

"...Herla?" he says, quietly, almost a whisper. When another strange sound is heard he looks up, narrowed eyes and a thoughtful expression. Then a small smile when he notices the large, awkwardly placed Irish elk beside the food table.
And Gehirn, he thinks, before he turns to the woman again.

He stood still. No muscle moved. The giant watches another figure arrive. Another two-legged. This one with Ephiré’s long hair. So by now the stag had two options.
1: These two killed his friends and now wore their hair. If he wanted his friends back, he’d have to kill them. And paste the hair on another deer since they also needed a body besides the hair.
2: These were his friends.
He was still frowning at his options as he watched the two. They seemed to communicate. ”Hey!” Gehirn called out. ”What’s going on?” Which, more likely to Herla, sounded like: ”Meeuuh! Meuuhhrrl!”. Gehirn snorted. Frowning angrily. Who was playing a game with him?
He looked around himself to find some sort of escape. Or at least space. Because he needed that. But something oddly colored caught his eyes. A little orange ball. The giant lowered his head to sniff it curiously, momentarily forgetting about his environment. It smelled odd. New. Sharp. He had never seen an orange before. Even the dream-orange seemed rather vivid. Well the table had hurt rather vividly too, so this didn’t surprise him.

But where the hell was he? And what was he supposed to do again? He vaguely remembered he was going on a dream walk with Herla and Ephiré. But this seemed to involve little walking for him. He tried to escape, lifting his legs to step over fallen objects. Squising fruit accidentally. As the front tried to evade falling objects, the behind pulled new ones down. But finally he made some sort of progress and he stood still at the fountain. Putting his nose towards the falling water. Almost like the crying idol! Quickly he dipped his forehead in. It was cold. But he seemed to like that. Some kind of familiarity.
He realizes he is very close to the smaller two legged figure, with Herla’s feathers in her hair. And the same scarlet eyes. ”Herla?” He moo’s, more gently this time. Some form of pleading in his voice. His eyes voicing his one concern: Please help me.

The man slowly makes his way over to Herla, when the loud crash and bangs from the elk and the table interrupts him. He watches, silent and with a small frown on his face, when the little bit of chaos ensues as the elk tries to get free from tables and pottery and foodstuffs, not really sure about how he could be of assistance. Eventually the Irish seems to calm down a little, but stress is apparent in his eyes.

When Herla suddenly seem to remember and hugs the great elk, he walks towards them with less hesitant steps. He stops a couple of steps away, bowing his head as a greeting to the Irish.
"Gehirn", he says, with a voice that is more or less like the one he usually has. Perhaps a bit more raspy and broken, but still the same.
"And Herla." He glances at the woman beside the stag. "You remember now?"
As he speaks, his hands move, a graceful hand-dance in front of him, as if he at the same time signed words with his hands. He doesn't seem to think about it. If one would stare intently at them, perhaps they could discern a deeper meaning behind his few spoken words.
"Watch your thoughts. Dreams are volatile things." When you realize you are dreaming, you sometimes wake up. Just hold on to it and don't worry his hands says. Then he smiles a little. "Hm. Your shape, Gehirn..." It's a dream. You can be whatever you wish to be.

He turns to Herla, a question apparent in his face. He gestures to their surroundings. "Lead us?" You know this place best.

The small woman could feel the tensing of the elk’s neck underneath her arms and for a second she worried he didn’t realize who she was, but then he actually leaned into her and returned the affection. She let out a breath in relieved tension. It was odd now looking up at his face, one she knew so well but within her were two people, two forms. The woman and the doe. And for the first time they were both present at the same time, it was disorientating seeing everything with a sort of double vision. Gehirn was complaining about the lack of adequate room to move in, and that was comforting. Him complaining. Nicely familiar. Her brow was furrowing in thought what to do about this, it was a nice distraction from the disorientation and she focused on that. Help Gehirn. Something to do.

The tall man approached then and addressed her again, and she shifted her focus to him. Ephiré. She smiled. His voice sounded the same to her as she remembered even in this human form and she realized he was both speaking but also moving his hands and this too she understood. Like when Gehirn mooed, she’d understood it as words. She tried not to think too hard on how this was working and just tried to go with it less she break the illusion by giving it too much attention. “Yes,” she nodded to him, “I remember now.” She answered, her voice was also very similar to her doe voice, lilting, bell-like, one familiar with it would be able to recognize it as well. She nodded at his warnings to watch her thoughts and she tried all the harder to NOT think about how she was understanding Gehirn's moos and Ephiré's hand signs. And NOT think of pink elephants. Especially when he said that they could take any form in a dream. Now she was trying very hard indeed not to think if pink elephants. Thinking on not thinking of pink elephants, it took her a moment to realize that Gehirn was...changing. His antlers were shrinking. All of him was shrinking. Putting her hand to her mouth, she gasped and stood back as this bizarre transformation happened.

She could do not by stare for a while at what he had become. She had to admit it looked very odd, though now at least smaller for her apparently tiny garden. She stifled a laugh, her hand still over her mouth. She didn't think Gehirn's pride could handle her amusement right now though, so she composed herself, before removing her hand and smiled encouragingly at him.

Both Ephiré and Gehirn where now looking at her expectantly. Lead us? Oh, okay. She turned her attention back to the garden around her. The garden that only so recently suffered damage from a large elk stumbling around in it. She walked over to one of the undamaged food laden tables and picked up a date, looking at it a moment before eating it. Intensely sweet, she remembered it yet at the same time it was a surprise to deer Herla. Glancing about she spoke, and was surprised how easy the words came, "This was a party, a gathering of many people. A chance for my father to show his wealth by spoiling his guest...and to show his daughter to possible suitors that he approved of," she frowned her gaze looking distant as she remembered and grew uncomfortable at the thought. She'd liked the parties. Liked being the center of attention. And never took any of it seriously. So why was she feeling so...unnerved? That sense of dread building in her again. She shrugged it off. Looking up at the garden walls she motioned to them, "There are many such gardens here, within walls like these. All beautiful. All lovely. The guards kept watch up there too," she motioned to the walkways and parapets that lined the courtyard. She moved to climb some stairs that led up to them, before turning back to see if her two companions were following.

When the Irish begins to shrink and change his shape, Ephire nods thoughtfully. A strange, but not unpractical, shape. He looks around when Herla speaks, observing small details, noting them down in his memory. He glances at the doe-woman when she picks up a date and picks up one himself, sniffing it. The sweet aroma brings back whispers of long-gone memories, but he quickly shrugs them away. Not now. He puts the date back on the plate.

He listens intently when Herla speaks about the party and her father and possible suitors, and notices her small frown. Is there something more there? The sliver of worry in her face makes him wonder. Parties would be like her... natural environment, wouldn't it? Lost in thoughts, he almost doesn't notice Herla going up the stairs, but quickly follows when he realizes where she is going.

All of it, the garden, the peculiar desert smell of sun-hot sand, the imposing buildings; all of it brings back fragments of memories for him. They evade his thoughts, but he remember a feeling of joy and some sort of... purpose. Blinking, he tries to rid his mind of them. No use in thinking of the past now.

He lets his gaze follow the horizon when they step up on the walkway. A seemingly endless desert outside the walls; far away, some pyramid-shaped buildings. Other palaces? Strange shape for such a building. Maybe some kind of monument, then.

"Beautiful", he says quietly. He appreciates this almost desolate kind of beauty.

*sits down*

When Gehirn bumps into him, he isn't prepared for it at all. He loses his balance for a second, flailing a bit to regain it before eventually steadying himself. "Don't worry about it," he mumbles and brushes away some strands of hair from his face.

He stands silent beside the others for a while, listening to Herla's words, but maybe not fully focused on what she says, until she mentions the tombs. Then he freezes. Did gods... die here? He turns his head to look at the large pyramids again. Tombs. In spite of the hot sun beating down on them, he shudders involuntarily. While death is something he understands intellectually, emotionally it is something very alien to him. The mentioning of dead gods makes him feel strange; one part of him feels mad joy while the other would back away, turn around, and never think of it again if it could.

He shakes his head a little to clear away the unwanted thought, once again trying to focus on Herla's words. It's hard, and he feels a chill going up his spine. There is something creeping in the back of his head now. A strange feeling, and as he ponders on it, he can feel the hair on his nape standing up as the dreamscape atmosphere shifts and something happens. Then the feeling is gone as quickly as it came, and he looks around. Nothing has changed. The sun is still shining, the sky is blue, Herla and Gehirn beside him. He cast a glance at them, wondering if they felt it too.

"Does... gods... die here?" he eventually asks, the question awkward in his mouth. He doesn't look at Herla when he speaks.

Herla watched in awe as Gehirn’s cloven hoof molded itself and changed until now she held his hand within hers, looking up into his face and seeing him looking back at her a smile on his face. She knew it was odd, all of it. She didn’t look herself and neither did he, but it didn’t matter. She had his smile and that made everything alright. “You’re doing fine,” she said softly, giving his hand a squeeze as she looked up into the same crimson eyes she knew and loved.

When they’d moved to the ramparts, Herla’s gaze was directed out over desert and she didn’t notice at first Ephire’s unease when she talked of the pyramids. Something shifted in the air, like a pressure change when a storm is about to happen, almost unnoticeable. Subtle. But then the woman became aware of a sound. Like a distant rumble, it buzzed in her ears and the pressure change increased, then an uncomfortable pressure on her ears drums. One hand went to her ear momentarily and she shook her head.

Gehirn was asking her about the tombs, “”Isn’t that a bit macabre? Looking how your tomb is being built whilst so young?” Herla’s gaze does not leave the horizon, “It was being built since before I was born…and it’s construction will likely proceed after I have died as well. All of my family will be interred there someday. It is…nice to know I will have a home in the afterlife.” she tries to explain, frowning now, partially distracted still by the buzzing. Didn’t they hear it too?

Gods…die here? Ephire’s voice pulls her gaze from the horizon, and she turns to look at him. She’d never seen him look as…disturbed as he looks now, even with his face turned from her.
“Yes, they are born here, my father is descended from them, but one day he will die and then he will fully be a God. And rejoin them in their realm. As will I.”

”If you were supposed to join the gods.. Why are you in the forest as a deer?” Gehirn was asking now and that startled her, her gaze went to his face. Yes, that didn’t make sense did it? Why hadn’t she gone to live with the Gods? Was it them that had decided to send her to the forest instead? “I don’t know,” she answered, confusion plain on her face. She was growing more unnerved now, the buzzing turning into a low rumble. She could feel it in the stones beneath her feet.

“Do you hear that?” she asks her gaze meeting both of their faces before it went back to the horizon. To see something there that wasn’t there before. It was moving. The whole horizon was moving. The rumble growing deeper. Louder. It was a sandstorm, but not like any sandstorm she had ever seen before. It was so dark, with flashes of light. Lightening? And it was growing larger. No not larger. Closer. The optical illusion of the expanse of the desert made it difficult to discern but it was definitely coming closer. The sight of it filling her with dread and the strong urge to flee, to try and escape it, but she remained glued to the spot, staring. “What is it?” she asked, her voice sounding very small, unable to pull her eyes from it now.

They started before she was born? Gehirn frowned. Should be start on the grave of his children as soon as he hears his mate is pregnant..?
Likely he shouldn’t think about it. This wasn’t his world. His eyes wandered to their environment, past the walls, sand, dust. Things he was so unfamiliar with. He started to understand how Herla could think she could get.. Dragged in here, forever.

Suddenly it seemed the two got nervous about something. His gave followed theirs. Do you hear that? His head goes back to the woman. ” Hear what?” He asked, before the sound suddenly became very apparent. What was that? Even Ephiré seemed confused. Wasn’t he in control?
Then he saw the dust storm on the horizon. He tried to focus on it. ”What is that..” He asked, as did Herla. As did Ephiré. Clearly, no one knew.

Gehirn closes his eyes quickly as the sand starts to rebel against his face. ”Hey!” He complains at the sand, waving his new hand at it. The ‘man’ frowned, hand in front of his eyes for cover. The light was almost blinding! ”Come on, we’re not going to stand here right?” He says, grabbing Herla’s hand, motioning at Ephiré. In a non-elegant way, he steps around the corner just near, once again surprised by a weirdly modified hill going up. But it seemed covered. ”Up here?” He turns to ask Herla, not sure where it would lead. If it was a good idea.

He looks at the oncoming storm with an almost paralyzed stare. This... this is something new, something he never has experienced before. And that is an exhilarating feeling, even if the circumstances are dire. Suddenly a strong gust of wind makes him stumble backwards, hair and skirt flapping violently in the wind. A flash of lighting illuminates the now darkening sky, and the winds now bring more and more sand. He turns to the others and quickly hurries after Herla.

With a glazed over gaze he looks around as they take cover in the guard house. "Don't think we can escape it" he says hoarsely. It will swallow us. An interesting thought. Is this still a dream, or has it turned into something else? The shift in the dreamscape would indicate so. The analytical part of his mind revels in the newness of it, while another part worries for his companions -- and maybe a little bit for himself.

"Don't think we can escape it" Herla hears Ephiré say and she is unnerved more than anything by the look she sees on his face, to see him stunned, confused, even a little scared? No, it does not seem they can escape it but they don’t stop trying. The winds are so strong as the wave of…blackness sweeping across the desert towards them comes crashing over the palace just as they all three run into the guard house, it’s stone walls all they have between themselves and the maelstrom tearing the palace apart at that very moment.

The roaring of the winds tears away any sound she tries to make before she can make it, but she is aware of Gehirn’s arms around her, his grip about her, his attempts to shield her as the stones of their shelter are being pulled away into the sucking vortex of the black storm. No place to run anymore, no place to hide, nothing to do but hold on to Gehirn, hold on with all of her strength. She’d scraped her knee on the hurried run up the stairs, she could feel it stinging now. It certainly felt real. Everything did. Would they die here? Could they die here?

Her ears popped. It hurt. She huddled into Gehirn . She couldn’t hear anymore. And neither could she see. Everything went black. She felt nothing. Silence. In an instant. Everything…was gone.
…
Sunlight against her eyelids. Warm stone under her. Protective arms wrapped around her. These were the first things she became aware of as consciousness slowly returned to her. Opening her eyes, she sees solid stone walls around her again, bright sunlight streaming through an open window in the stone wall, she blinks at it. No storm. The guard house is intact. She’s in someone’s arms and another man can be seen laying not far off. She hears voices coming from the garden below, “What’s going on?” she asks blearily, still trying to recover her senses.

The last thing he remembered, before the world went black, was the little human huddled against him.

That darkness.. It was a new one. Unlike the one where you fell asleep or where someone hit your head with a rock. Or antler. He knew the last one pretty well. No; he felt like he was pulled towards something. But above all, pulled apart! He didn’t know where he was, what he did know was that it rejected him. Didn’t want him there. So he clung to that memory, fading feeling of his arms around Herla’s small frame. It was new for him; he had never had arms before. But a strong feeling none the less.

Something grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

In a sudden shock, he woke up. A voice he did not recognize entirely spoke Herla’s name in a questioning tone. Gehirn’s blurry vision tried to focus on the figure, glaring at him so to speak. “Ehp?” He asked. And as soon as he asked he frowned. What was this pink thing between his eyes?
The man sat on the ground trying to cross is eyes for a moment, wondering where his black nose had gone off to. The thought suddenly came to him that maybe, that wasn’t the ONLY thing different.

He lifted his hands in front of his eyes. PINK!? And what were those shiny golden things around his wrists?! He worried for a moment. Putting his fingertips on his cheeks. His face turning pale.

HIS BEARD
WHERE WAS IT!?

He was wearing some dark colored skirt, much like Ephiré’s. But his seemed somewhat.. Shorter. He realized. And whatever was below it wasn’t much like his taste either.
At some point his attention shifted to the confused woman he had been holding close all this time before. Before he realized his missing beard. It was.. There. A little bit. A stubble. It was sad. A pahetic beard compaired to what he had.

A weird cloth on his head to top it off with. Bare chested, except for a big golden necklace-type of thing. He looks at Herla first, then at Ephiré. But both get the utterly lost helpless kind of gaze. He heard the voices too, turning his head to the wall they seemed to come from. “Are we still in the dream?” He suddenly asks. His voice didn’t seem to have changed much. Perhaps it was less booming, his skull smaller of course. “What’s happening?”

Ephiré isn't really sure about what to do, so he merely stands aside, quiet, when the guard comes by and talks to them. He senses a change in Herla -- as if the person he knows slips away for a bit, leaving place to another facet of the doe... woman. He doesn't doubt now that she sometime in her time has lived as a human. But how he and Gehirn ended up here, in human shapes and clothed like people here, that is still a mystery. Are they in the past or in a dream? Another universe? Experienced traveler as he is, the thought still boggles his mind. If they actually have went back in time... how and why did they? Time is not something one should lightly play with; the potential for mistakes is enormous.

A headshake at the thought. They will have to concentrate on that later; now it's time for some acting, it seems. He has no idea what a high priest does here, but tries to shrug it off, and lets out a small, slightly nervous chuckle. Fate, while a cruel mistress, does seem to have some kind of twisted humor. He, as a priest... while he can appreciate the irony, it still feels very strange.

He glances at Gehirn. Another of those small obvious dream-thoughts nestles into his head, and he realizes that the Gehirn-guard's name is Garai. He walks up to him with slightly hesitant steps and reaches for Gehirns hand, an attempt to help him up. "Garai." he says, tasting the name. "Your name is Garai." Suddenly it hits him. What is his own name?

And then Herla speaks again, with unquestioning authority. Okay. Time to go, then? He falls into her steps as she walks out onto the courtyard.

The woman moves with confidence toward the doorway, her step sure and self possessed. Outside the sun is sinking into the desert, the sky brilliant with purples and dusty oranges. The moon is visible, stars have come out too, shining in the crystal clear sky. Moving along the rampart that encircles the garden, she looks over the milling crowds of people there, the sound of chatter and laughter filling the space, music plays lightly, flutes and drums, the musicians tucked into one corner. It was much as the scene when they had first arrived, food laden tables, the smells of cooked meats wafting on the breeze. Everything is in order again, no overturned tables or broken plants scattered about. No giant elk crashing around. Giant elk? The woman frowns at this image, confused where that thought came from. She paused, turning to look at the priest and the guard behind her, and her eyes met Garia’s for a moment. Gehirn’s. No Garia’s. Seeing the elk but also seeing the man. Her brow furrows, a question forming on her lips, “Who…” but before she can finish her sentence another’s voice interrupts.

“Your highness,” says a man, dressed much like the guards but more ornately, jewels and gold embellishing his garb. He is making his way up the stairs towards her, stopping to bow to her once he reached the landing. Turning to face him, she inclines her head in greeting to the man.

“Sabola,” she says. Her father’s high war chief. She knows him, has met him several times before. And father of course spoke of him endlessly to her, clearly he favored the man and wished his daughter to show an interest in the noble. He was not unhandsome, had a ruggedness to him, bore scars from battle, but they did not detract, he had led many war campaigns.

“Princess,” he says, offering his arm, “Let me escort you down to the party?” She takes his arm and follows him down as is proper to do. They descend into the milling crowd which separates in their wake, people turning to bow and make room for them as they walk first to her father who gives her a kiss upon the brow.

“Be a good girl tonight, no wandering off?” her father whispers in her ear before introducing her to the gathered war chiefs, but Sabola sticks close to her side never letting her out of his sight at any one time, directing her about the crowds, always an arm at her side chatting with various nobles. He’s very attentive, saying all the things she likes to hear, she’s beautiful, what lovely ruby eyes she has, what a fair complexion, truly the Jewel of the Nile.

She should like him, right? Somehow she never found that she could, though she smiles at all his words and laughs at all his jokes. The woman finds herself continually distracted though and her gaze keeps going over the heads of the crowd, eyes searching for…what? Garia it seems. Her gaze keeps finding him, a strange tickle in the back of her mind, an odd double vision of two realities when her eyes meet his in brief snatches as the crowds separate and mill about.

A headache is beginning to bloom between her eyes and at one point she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Here, have some wine,” says Sabola, putting a chalice in her hands and she drinks it, feeling heady from it quite quickly, leans on his arm just a little bit more, her questioning gaze stilled and numbed. The chalice is filled a few times.

She doesn’t notice when they are not so much in the crowds anymore, but in the palace, in a hallway, she can barely hear the musicians playing she realizes first. She tries to turn, to go back, it’s night now, she can see the torches burning from the garden still. But a hand gripping her wrist stops her. She frowns at the hand, then up at the face looking down at her, “Take me back now Sabola, I’d like to go back now,” but his grip only tightens.

“I will, in just a moment, I had something I wanted to talk with you about first though,” he says intently. Her frown deepens. THIS was not going as she would have liked. He looked far too serious, that was never good, and his grip was uncomfortable.

The first thing that came to Gehirn’s attention was the music that was played at the party. He had never heard such music before. During some abio’s in the forest music had sometimes played but one’d barely hear that over all the moo’s and explosions of confetti. It was an odd experience to him. Suddenly he noticed Herla watching him again, confused. It almost seemed like she was forgetting him, and it pained him more than he’d likely admit.
Suddenly, another figure arrives. And Gehirn doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like how he’s looking at his partner. But was she? Was she still his partner in this world? But even if she wasn’t, how was he supposed to turn those feelings away?

And before he knows it, they disappear into the crowd together. And for a moment, Gehirn feels utterly helpless. What was he supposed to do now? He looks for guidance at Ephiré, who seemed to continue keeping an eye on them.
Of course! He was her guard. He’d keep an eye on them. And his task became very serious for him.
Gehirn watched them greet the king, other war chiefs.
But his eyes never left them.

For a second it suprises Gehirn as another guard steps up to him, asking him questions having to do with someone misbehaving during the party. What needed to be done? And without hesitation Gehirn would give them the answer. Or, Garia would. This dream world was odd, he thought to himself. How some things made so much sense, but others seemed so alien to him.
It seemed this war chief was now feeding his girl some type of drink. And it hit him that that wasn’t how he should be thinking of Herla. Or should he?

He follows them through the crowds, on a distance. He didn’t think he was acting off; he was Herla’s guard. Of course he’d be watching her. And apparently it was needed. He watches them go up some stairs, Herla clearing having difficulty. Like watching a deer after it had too many blueberries. But then on two legs, and dragged on by a man. Gehirn didn’t like the looks of that.
Suddenly he hears a voice behind him, and he turns around. His expression is rather dark, a little mad to be disturbed now. But he quickly recognizes the man with leopard skirt. “Eph- I mean, Epaphos. That man, Sabola, just dragged Herla into the palace. Is it weird if I don’t like the looks of that?” He needed some confirmation. This whole dreamwalk was so odd to him. To sometimes remember he was a deer, but to be walking on two feet. There had been a worry that this WAS his actual life. The deer one? A dream. But Ephiré was a familiar face who likely still struggled too, even if he seemed more comfortable.
Actually, he didn’t want to wait for the other man’s answer. “Come on, I need your help.” He said as he grabbed Ephiré by the wrist, dragging him on the stairs with him. Likely that looked more off than a war chief with a young slightly-drunk woman on his arm. No, a leading guard just dragged up the high priest. Sure.

His eyes wander around the palace halls for a moment, before his eyes catch sight of the two in the distance.
But then he doubts. Was he supposed to go to them now? Or was this on Herla’s own free will? His eyes wander to Ephiré, hoping the man could aid him.

He is walking around, watching people eat and laugh and generally have a good time. No Garai in sight, but plenty of other people who seems to want to talk to him about a variety of things. He tries to answer them; most things come naturally, other he has to think about. Eventually he sees a tall guard walking beneath the arches. He quickly walks up to him, hoping that it is Gehirn.

"Ge- Garai?" He jumps back a little when the man turns around hastily, but listens intently when he speaks, a small crease appearing on his forehead as he hears about Herla and Sabola. Then he's suddenly dragged off by the guard. Surprised, he doesn't do anything about it but lets himself be herded away, up on the stairs and into the palace.

He narrows his eyes when he sees Herla and the war chief standing alone against a wall. He glances back at Gehirn, and then he straightens himself up, making use of his full length as he walks towards the princess and the war chief, hoping that Gehirn would follow.
Herla's distressed expression does not please him one bit.
"Is there a... problem, here?" he asks slowly, staring coldly at Sabola.

To her great relief the guard and the priest walk over when they spot her and Sabola, the tall priest speaking first, his expression stern, followed closely by the head guard who is far more blatant in his threat towards the War Chief, going so far as to extend his hand toward her, and she looks at him with clear gratitude upon her face. Of course Gehirn would come and rescue her. Garai, she corrects herself. The small woman attempts to take her wrist back again from Sabola, but the big man clenches it tightly, painfully, and pulls her back. Herla blanches at this, a gasp escaping her, scarlet eyes going even wider, her gaze going back to up to Sabola in shock. He’d hurt her. Actually hurt her. She was too stunned to even know how to respond, no one had ever done that before. So she stared at him mouth gaping, his expression sending a shiver down her spine at the malice she saw there. Clear anger raged across his face and she shrunk back from it. He looked down at her like a lion about to pounce on a gazelle.

“I’d like to leave now, please,” she said meekly, the usual proud princess reduced to timidity before him. Sabola smiled at this. He liked that. Her father had given her far too much freedom. It wasn’t right a woman thinking she had so much say over her life. He’d have that out of her no doubt. The urge to grip her wrist even tighter grew within him, her tiny bones so fragile in his hand, he’d like to see her plead a little more, see her flinch and cow in submission. That would be nice. But he had an audience now. The king favored him true enough, but Sabola he was wise enough to know his limits and witnesses were not good. There’d be other chances. It was time for this brat woman to grow up and he’d be the man to make that happen. It was just going to take some patience.

The war chief glanced at the guard and the priest disdainfully, irritated to be interrupted, he raised a brow at the head guard’s clear threat with the ax, but he made no aggressive move himself, making himself easy and relaxed. Garai was not someone he wanted to brawl with, the man’s war history was not unknown him, there was a reason he now guarded the royal family, “Everything is fine here of course, I only have the princess’s good health at heart, she was getting a bit sick from the wine, so I thought to take her to her chambers so she could retire for the evening,” he’d quickly schooled a more pleasant expression upon his features before turning back to the princess, his grip loosening and letting go of her wrist, he stepped back from her and offered a bow, indicating with his hand that she should continue down the hall.

Once her wrist was released she tucked it to her, rubbing it with her other hand, never so frazzled in her life, all the blood had drained from her face and she backed away from him. “I think I’d like to go back to my father now, actually.” She said, backing into Garai, her glance going to him and the priest.

“Of course, whatever you’d like, your majesty,” said Sabola all smiles now.

Gehirn’s teeth clench together immediately as he sees Sabola rough-handle Herla. The urge to slap him across the face right there and then was enormous; but Gehirn was, for a change, wise enough to keep it to himself. Perhaps he’d get this man, but in a different way. Perhaps this needed a different tactic then his usual solution; beat em up.
“Ah yes, of course, the wine you fed to her made her feel sick.” Making it clear he had kept a keen eye on the two. As Herla backed off from the man, and into himself, again the urge rose to wrap his arms around her in the protective manner he was used to. But he couldn’t. His gut feeling told him it’d be weird. Why was that so? Instead, he lets Ephiré put his hand on her shoulder. Gehirn returns his nod, following the other two as they walk off. “We will bring you back to your father, your majesty.” Gehirn says to Herla, a small smile on his face. Of course he’d come to resque her. “I’m sure he’d like to hear what happened to your wrist.” Gehirn wasn’t blind. The strain from Sabola’s grip had been quite obvious. Wouldn’t even surprise him if it’d show as a bruise later on, Herla was delicate. And of course, his words hadn’t been subtile. Perhaps he had even meant for Sabola to hear them.

When they make some distance from Sabola, out of hearing range and sight, Gehirn turns to Herla. “Are you alright?” He asks, his usual tone back. No majesty’s or bows, honest concern. “Did he hurt you?” He asks as he carefully takes hold of her hand, inspecting the wrist Sabola so firmly held on to. His finger gently runs across the reddish colored skin. “That asshole.” He mutters.

Ephiré listens to her words, glancing at Garai while she speaks. Perhaps the guard has better memory-knowledge of where her room is. Ephiré-Ephapos certainly have no idea; he might be somewhat acquainted with the Pharao, but has never really walked around in his palace. A small thought -- where does the priest Ephapos live? -- floats by in his mind, followed by a image of a large white house surrounded by a garden, close to a large temple, but then the stray thought sneaks away again.

He silently follows the other two, letting Herla and Garai-Gehirn take the lead. Thoughts churn endlessly in his head now. Is this still a dream? Is it the past? How can they go back? Is he, in this world, a real human or still himself? He puts a hand on his forehead, rubbing it. There is a small seed of a headache growing there. Somewhere, far, far away in the back of his mind, there is the sensation of incipient tiredness. He tries to not think about it. Dreamwalks are very tiring, he knows from experience, and this... event... has already taken more time than most dreamwalk he has been on. He does not look forward to waking up.

After a while he begins to pay attention to their surroundings. The hallway is finely decorated and he can see doorways into other parts of the palace. Gardens, small rooms, big rooms, other corridors. He is thankful for being able to follow the others; the palace is truly a maze. As they walk, they see more guards now than before. They all nod or greet Garai in some way, and doesn't seem to mind Ephiré's presence.

Eventually the come to a small lush garden. Date palms, a large blooming bush, flowers, a small pond, some chairs and a table. A large reddish orange cat lounges in a sun spot and opens one eye when they come near. Garai seems intent on leading Herla to sit down on a chair, and so Ephiré follows.

The woman stands in the hallway full of indecision. But then the guard makes the decision for her. Take her back to her chambers. She is secretly grateful and allows herself to be escorted by the two men through the meandering hallways of the palace. The walk allows her to calm her nerves and by the time they reach her quarters she is not so much rattled as fatigued. The wine had made her very sleepy and she finds herself being seated in a chair, on the edge of her garden, its sweet smells and the sound of the fountain running into the pond soothes her. Always the sound of running water.

Heru takes no time trotting up and jumping into her lap once she is seated and her hand runs through his orange fur almost automatically. … can we get you anything to drink maybe? Or something to eat, perhaps? The voice draws her attention upwards. Into the concerned gaze of Garia. And she looks up at him a long while before answering, “Thank you, no, you’ve both been so very kind already and I’ve taken up far too much of your time,” she rose, Heru jumping irritably from her lap and slinking off into the bushes of the garden. She does something very odd for the princess then, she takes their hands, in both of hers, first Epaphos, then Garai, looks up into their faces and says “Thank you.” And means it. Then moves off away from them crossing to the entrance of another room, a large bed barely illuminated in the chamber beyond.

“It’s best I retire now, I won’t keep you two any longer, the lion hunt is tomorrow,” she frowned, remembering this. Sabola had asked her father if he could take her and he had agreed. She had been excited at the time. To leave the palace walls and see something so so normally forbiden. Now…now she wasn’t so sure. But she had already agreed. She would not aggrieve her father by disappointing him. She paused with her hand on the door frame to her bedroom quarters, gaze going out to the dark garden of the courtyard. Winds of changes where on the air, things where moving fast now. And not to her liking. Her life and decisions where being taken from her hands, and the great forces of the kingdom would grind her beneath them at last it seemed.. It had never been that way before. A sadness fell over her shoulders. A bit of a sense of defeat. And dark dread. The proud princess was tired. And unsure. Something not many got to see. She turned to look at the two men, wanly lit from the lights of the garden, “I’m glad…you will be there also. Goodnight.” she said softly, offering them a smile, before disappearing into the darkened chamber, pulling aside the netting to crawl inside and curl up within their sanctuary, not bothering to call for maids to undress her and put away her fineries. She welcomed the sanctuary of the shear drapes, behind them nobody could see her tears.

The high guard smiles at the princess when she grabs his hands, but seems to watch her move away defeated. They were hunting lions tomorrow? Wait, what were lions again, and how did she mean tomorrow? They were going to wake up now right? He looked at Ephiré, who sat down in a chair and rubbed his head. “I’m never going to dreamwalk again with anyone.” He answers, frowning. Gehirn was all but pleased, not enjoying this one bit. “Well I can tell you who doesn’t like it. The love of my life doesn’t seem to know who I am anymore, my beard is gone, my antlers are gone.” He had started to count on his fingers to demonstrate just how upset he was with the amount of upsetting things he was going through. “I’m a human thing, I smell, argk.” He finally stopped. Ephiré didn’t seem all that impressed anyway.
He felt a short, sharp pain in his leg. Gehirn almost let out a yell as he looked down, the red cat clinging on his leg. “And now there’s a monster attatched to my leg.” Gehirn continued, lifting his leg in demonstration. The cat seemed to let go at this, hissing loudly. Gehirn hissed back before turning to his friend.

“You’re not even sure if it’s a dream?” He asked, the fear now becoming apparent in his voice. “We may actually be stuck here? I may actually never become a deer again?” Gehirn seemed rather shocked by his own conclusion. Would he be stuck in this weird place? With all these weird creatures that suddenly seemed so normal to him? His eyes turned into the direction Herla had disappeared. Again, his heart sank. He couldn’t just go up to her and crawl next to her, unfortunately. He let out a deep sigh. “Alright, well, I suppose all we can do now is hunt lions tomorrow.. “ His voice ever so defeated. “I suppose we have to go to sleep for that, too. Perhaps we wake up if we do that..” Though not even Gehirn seemed all too hopeful about that. Whatever was going to happen, he was not going to like it much. He wondered where he was supposed to sleep. His mind would, soon show him a door where many guards entered and left. Some going to rest, other’s to start their shift. “Well, I suppose you also magically know where to go. See you tomorrow.” Gehirn, or Garai, turned, soon his static pose restored.
At least he was going to join Herla tomorrow. Atleast Eph was going to be there too. But they were going to hunt lions with that jerkface that had hurt Herla.

Hey, could he feed him to the lions? He smirked shortly before walking off, either having to stand guard at the party, or going for his own rest.