Third Dream//Video
[Mirrors. There's a long hall, filled with mirrors. Naoya walks down it, but there's no telling where the end of it. In every single mirror, there's a different version of him--they can all be identified as Naoya, and when he stops to look at any one of them...their life plays out in front of him
None of them are good.
He doesn't stare at any of them long, but one seems to catch his interest, as if he's been sucked in--
And now there's a boy, possibly no more than fourteen, dressed in the loose tunic and leggings that would identify him as a peasant in the very early middle ages. And there he stands, over the bleeding bodies of his family--sister, sister, mother, father, brother--and he screams, rage and pain and hatred, speaking old words to an older ritual with almost a snarl
Whatever figure appears is shadowed, indistinct--as if the memory itself is blurred. Whatever the case, the boy lashes out, fingers wrapping around the figure's neck.
"Swear you'll help me."
"You have my word, farmer~" The voice is low, and deep, and amused, and with a sudden gust of wind, the figure is gone, leaving the pale-white boy soaked red in his family's blood.
In his brother's blood once again.]
...[Naoya picks up the dreamberry to filter the dream, but looks rather...perplexed.]
...Of all things, why that?