Roelon (prime)/Vignette: Crossroads

The weary Giantkin sat hunched over his desk, his gaze locked across the room of his cabin. The images of his vision still clouding his mind.

A dreadful scene imprinted hazily before the Giantkin. One moment a snowy white tiger lazily slumbering on top of an unmade bed, which then was replaced with an overlapping image of a Krolvin family huddled lifelessly together, their bodies covered in thick pale-gray ash.

Screams echoed throughout the area, yet his companion slept unstirred. The scene was now of several Krolvin Corsairs’ sharing the same fate as their now dead captives, on the ground in a blanket of rubble and broken limbs.

They were just echos, he reminded himself.

They flickered in and out, like the remains of an unsettled dish from Helga’s.

He simply rubbed his eyes, ignoring the remnants of what could be and turned towards his journal.

He flipped tiredly through it. Dreams or nightmares, Action must be taken, They still lurk in the shadows. Words stuck out to him as he shifted through the pages, like his kilt to those unaccustomed to his ways. And he stopped. A drawing he rendered hazily from before.

A warrior gazing down at him from a pile of bodies, their skin dry and cracked like the earth beneath them.

While the depiction has been done in a mix of charcoal grays and black, the eyes of the warrior contained a varied array of blue dyes. They have been blended to capture a strange hue, giving an almost eerie lifelessness conscious to the figure.

He stared at this intently before suddenly turning to a fresh page. He grabbed a shard of charcoal and began work on another drawing as he pushed through his memories.