@indecisiveinvalid eternal brain fog
normally i'm loathe to share my writing but i also want to see what people think and everyone else is doing this, so please keep this in mind: this is not designed to be part of a chapter. it is a character study.
Answers: Dylan Pembroke
Frantic, trembling hands flitted through a desk that was littered with paper; half-finished stories with no discernible end were sent crashing to the floor. But it didn’t matter - all that mattered now was his book. A notebook he’d cherished but refused to look at after his dreams had all but stopped.
But then they started again and they were all connected. And he knew, in his heart, that it felt right. Whatever story played behind the glass pane of his dream was real and whatever he was doing now - here - was wrong. So, so wrong and he needed answers and if only he could find that damn book.
With a gleeful shout of victory, his target was finally located under the carnage of paper that his desk had become. It was seemingly unobtrusive; a small pocket book, wrapped in black leather with tiny metal rings that had become warped and distorted with time. The pages inside were worn and taped together from being manhandled hundreds of times; scribbles from a hundred different pens.
There were depictions of the people in his dreams and what little he knew of its lore; a great library, lined with millions of innocuous books that all held identical black spines with gold borders.
A stout boy with large eyes and the ghost of a haunted past in his features.
His vision of the world dips, and he bows - a tall, bespectacled male with silver hair stands before him with a warm, familiar smile. Next to him, a much younger child - grabbing his hand, dragging him away to play.
Mentions of memories, souls, and gods. Knowledge and understanding of the universe in his hands. Sometimes, he saw people in his family; distanced enough that it was as though they had nothing to do with one another. His eldest brother, Iain, was always found near an unnecessarily aggressive blonde with piercing eyes and a permanent scowl on his features.
Another brother of his, Seamus, was always seen within a small crowd of people; a man of nearly equal stature to Seamus, with dark auburn hair and golden eyes was the most common sight. His lips were constantly graced with a wide smile, filled with confidence. The two of them gambled a lot together - interesting character development.
And in this world, finally, he came to learn that his son was not his son. He was still recognizably Rhys - his hair was lighter than Dylan’s, but a fair bit longer and scruffier. What was most recognizable, however, was the eyepatch that covered one side on his face - it was the first sign of ‘different’ that Dylan had ever written down.
His Rhys never covered his eye. His Rhys displayed his battle scars with pride.
The most recent dream had been a particularly sobering one. He had been in a room with the people he frequently found at the library - one of the dark haired youths had taken the lead, anxiety-induced pacing scuffing the hardwood floor.
Finally finding the page that he’d been hunting for, his fingers traced over the details of that particular boy.
Male. God. Name: Tomo? Takes care of the books. Name of friend unknown. Murmuring the name soundlessly, it had sounded accurate. He pursed his lips tightly and removed his pen from the hem of his vest, clicking it quietly.
The only sound for several minutes was the scratching of the pen.
Tomo and his friend are very old. I am too. Age tbd, starting to seriously consider immortality is legit. While it was a plausible reason, he couldn’t wrap his head around the ‘how’ - there was always some trick to immortality. There wasn’t normally such a huge crowd of people who were conventionally immortal.
Maybe everyone really was related? Could immortality be hereditary?
He paused in his writing and sighed, rubbing at his forehead tiredly. Maybe the answers were right in front of him, if only he’d dig a little deeper. Pursing his lips, he flipped back to the first page.
Time to start from the beginning.
Exhaling deeply, he began his scour of his book anew, in search of the answer to the ultimate question:
Who am I?