Roleplay

Cam had been practicing. Every time they put him in that damned cell, he would sit, quietly, patiently meditating.
For a while, he was only able to transmit to the elves and half-elves closest to him, and even that was difficult. He practiced every night, fasting for days on end without taking so much as a sip of water. Still, he was getting nowhere. He knew that. His injuries burned and distracted him, and often, the guards would mess with him and interrupt his concentration. But, eventually, he managed to talk to the townspeople, through their dreams. He knew he could reach Archie if he tried hard enough. They were far away; that much he could tell, but Cam's connection with the elf was strong. He could taste the tips of Archies dreams, but never enough to jump into them. Every time, as he was just about to make it, Archie would wake up, and the dream would disappear.

Archie was jolted awake as Dyr tugged on his collar, "Papa." She whimpered.
"What is it, dear?" He asked softly, hiding how startled he was. He felt... There was something... Something he was missing.
"Can't sleep." She whispered. "Bad dreams."
"It's okay, just come here." He pulled her into his arms and hummed softly to her, feeling her gradually fall asleep. He sighed, his eyes closing as he did so. He didn't fall back asleep, but he didn't feel like keeping them open.

The world was still, quiet even. Cam couldn't hear the insects chirping outside nor the birds as they sang themselves to sleep. He hadn't seen Kuroji since he had come in with Archie and the rest of the gang, nor any of the other elves. There were rumors of elves being sent deep underground to work in factories, or being sacrificed to some evil god or goddess. Cam didn't quite believe either, but he didn't quite believe anything anymore. He was finding it harder and harder to keep up with his meditation. He was constantly moved around, as many elves were rioting against their captors, and security had to be largely increased. He was watched constantly, and his hands were kept cuffed in front of him. His shirt had withered away long ago, barely any protection to the whippings and other punishments the cultists had inflicted upon him. His scars and injuries were clearly visible, and throbbed awfully, but he had to stay strong.
Not to mention the drugs. Every week, it was another prescription of the drugs, sending Cam into a panicky fever. He knew they were to keep him under control, under the cultists sleeve, but he hated them. Despised, even. The last time he had attempted to touch Archies dreams was days ago. His connection was growing weaker; he could feel it. The drugs made him unable to concentrate. And now, he heard that they were gathering the elves up to do something else. He wasn't sure what, but... it definitely wasn't good.

Eventually Archie fell back to sleep, Dyr dozed off in his arms and her little pockets full of leaves that she had collected. He held onto the little goblin as he drifted back to sleep, the repetitive rubbing he was doing on her back slowed to a stop as he did so.