Calanthia

NB.02.02.126
PROTOCOL: PENROSE

A shifting entity of unreality, monolithic and yet infinitely divided. Sometimes its tendrils lash out at anything that threatens their Dreamers, sometimes they whisper their empty promises into the ears of those who would wander into their midst, sometimes they subsume a poor soul who collapses in the midst of their delusions.

While awake, the tendril known as Calanthia went by the name "Astara". She was a bright student at an institute of ecology in the Viridian Labyrinth, who travelled with a classmate to the Windswept Plateau for their studies. And then she fell asleep...

Nobody in the Halycon Clearing remembers there being a Spiral named Astara. They know her classmate just fine, but Eirawen was alone when she set foot here, right...?

Calanthia seeps into the sleeping mind of the Tremora's living vestige. Promises a world where everything that strikes her academic fancy will be visible, everything may be observed and poked and prodded at as she wishes under her own divinity as the Twelfth God of the Quake. But Eirawen doesn't hear her. Why doesn't she hear her? Why doesn't she hear the oddity of the world she's observing? Why doesn't she hear Astara begging her to just... turn around and look at her?

Sometimes the Dream's tendrils lash out, sometimes they lie, sometimes they tell the truth, sometimes they cast a wandering soul into a slumber they can't emerge from, sometimes they display their true form, a swarm of delusions, of things that aren't. That can't be.

Sometimes those delusions collapse under their own impossibility, sinking into more and more layers of fractured reality... and sometimes they realize their own unworkable nature, and find it in themselves to see through it, if only for a moment.