Somewhere far away, on the other side of Alternia, a young, mutantblooded troll jerks out of sleep, sitting up in shock and confusion. That wasn't the typical dream, the typical vision of peace and beauty, the soft, muted colors of the world as he wants it to be. That was violent, and dirty, the colors so vivid and jarring that his mind feels bruised from their assault. And the pain... he felt the pain of the other troll, so visceral and wicked that one hand clutches at his chest, fending off an attack that reels through his thoughts.
Next to him, his guardian stirs, her own sleep disturbed by his thrashing. He glances down at her, and her presence soothes him, makes some of the pain reside. He lies back down, eyes that haven't yet begun to turn the traitorous, mutant red that will someday be his inevitable downfall staring at the roof of the cave where they've taken shelter for the day. When the sun sets and the moons rise, he'll tell her about his dream, about the troll he saw, about the troll he knows, with the complete certainty of the very young, that he needs to find. He doesn't know where he is, except for the vague scent of salt in the air of the dream. Salt... like the sea. So it will be east that they'll travel, towards the sea, towards where the other is waiting for them, even if he doesn't know it yet himself.
And once there, they'll find him. It's as simple as that, even though he doesn't know the other's name, or location, or even his face. As the young mutant drifts back into sleep, he knows how he'll know the other, knows what will separate him from all the other yellowblooded slaves working in the factory towns. After all, how many trolls can there be out there with mismatched, opaque red and blue eyes that flash and dance with the light of all the stars in the sky?
I know this is a fic, not an rp, but I just had to jam out a response
Next to him, his guardian stirs, her own sleep disturbed by his thrashing. He glances down at her, and her presence soothes him, makes some of the pain reside. He lies back down, eyes that haven't yet begun to turn the traitorous, mutant red that will someday be his inevitable downfall staring at the roof of the cave where they've taken shelter for the day. When the sun sets and the moons rise, he'll tell her about his dream, about the troll he saw, about the troll he knows, with the complete certainty of the very young, that he needs to find. He doesn't know where he is, except for the vague scent of salt in the air of the dream. Salt... like the sea. So it will be east that they'll travel, towards the sea, towards where the other is waiting for them, even if he doesn't know it yet himself.
And once there, they'll find him. It's as simple as that, even though he doesn't know the other's name, or location, or even his face. As the young mutant drifts back into sleep, he knows how he'll know the other, knows what will separate him from all the other yellowblooded slaves working in the factory towns. After all, how many trolls can there be out there with mismatched, opaque red and blue eyes that flash and dance with the light of all the stars in the sky?