While other refugees gleefully went after chasing Calum in their quest to save both Ryune and Josiah, the DreamWriter sat at a desk in Radiant Library that looked over the town, the town now abandoned by much of the Refugees. If one looked at her from the entrance, it looked like she was frozen in place and time had stopped, her eyes were closed and she seemed almost at rest. All that moved was her hands, Hope-Writer, the black and silver quill in her hands scrawling across parchment. Spirit Writing, or Automatic Writing was what this was often called on Earth. However, she wasn't writing words from Spirits, but words from her own heart. The Scarab at her neck, held the carnelian still... The symbol of connection.
Sheridan lazily sat on the nearby windowsill, watching over the Refugee.
The scrawl on the paper read something like this -
DreamSeeker, Dreamer, Messenger... Lover, Villain, Outsider....Twilight, Darkness, Light... Always connected, always together. Hard enough though our paths be... Never lost, never forgotten. Some things will stay, some things will go. Oneday, brilliance we evoke together, the balance of worlds, will save us all. Worlds sleeping are not dead. The cycle must return. The sun will rise, our hearts will blend. Our wish will be. Dream together.
The fight may last, but hope shines true. Whatever is given, can be saved. And little most know, memories serve far greater purpose in love and hope. For they are what build us up, and they are what define us as much as our actions.
We are waiting to stop dreaming. We are waiting to move. Help us turn to what we should.