Insomnia.

[Jetamio]

The air was still, a balmy summer night. The crescent moon shone its pale glow over the plains of the Karanas and the crickets chirped merrily in the grasses. Jetamio stood on the balcony of her room, leaning on the railings and looking out over the plains, breathing in the night time scents. Tortha slept peacefully in the small bed in her room, the two year old refusing to sleep in his cot any longer. She couldn’t really blame him, he was far too big for it with his barbarian heritage. She loved nights like these, and could quite easily stand for hours enjoying the stillness.
Suddenly a strange feeling overcame her, a feeling of being watched. She peered into the darkness of the gardens, shielded from the moons glow by the tall trees the formed part of the boundary there. Someone was down there. Jetamio stood still, watching and listening for movement. Then she saw someone come out of the shadow of the trees and stand in the full light of the moon, the light gleaming off her silver locks which was the most visible part of the Tier’Dal. The visitor looked up at Jetamio, but moved no closer.
“Tajer.” The Drakkin whispered, with a growing sense of uneasiness that she put down to worry. Why would her granddaughter come in the middle of the night? She glanced back to check that Tortha still slept, then slipped over the balcony and dropped down the short distance landing nimbly on her feet. She moved almost silently across the gardens and stopped near the Tier’Dal. Tajer had a strange expression on her face.
“Tajer? What is it?”
Tajer held out her hand, and stared Jetamio deep in the eyes. The Drakkin felt compelled to take her hand and did so. But her feeling of uneasiness intensified as Tajer gripped her hand and she shook off the effects of the sanguine gaze and suddenly yanked her hand back with a hiss. “What are you doing Tajer?!” The Tier’Dal had not expected the sudden movement and had completely underestimated Jetamio’s strength, which almost matched that of the sanguine though the Drakkin rarely let her great physical strength show. Tajer stumbled forwards and bumped into Jetamio, sending them both sprawling. They rolled, each trying to come out on top and Jetamio eventually managed to pin Tajer down. The vampire tried to dislodge Jetamio’s hold on her, but the Drakkin had the advantage of knowing how to pin her best despite the Tier’Dal’s greater strength.
“What in the nine hells are you doing Tajer?!”
Tajer merely glared at her in frustration, then something behind Jetamio seemed to grab her attention and her eyes widened. “No!”
Before Jetamio could respond, pain exploded in her back right behind her heart. All her strength left her and she slumped over to the side, releasing Tajer. She could hear screaming and at first thought it was her own scream. But it was Tajer who howled in mortal agony, her bloodcurdling scream echoing out over the plains, silencing what few creatures had not already been silent. Then she descended into a purple-black darkness, and knew it would be her new home for eternity for her failure. Even as she went, she heard the Tier’Dals scream intensify as the soul bond between them was severed painfully.
Suddenly the pain stopped and Tajer stopped screaming. She opened her eyes which she had clenched shut in pain and was relieved to see that she still lived. Well, as much as one of her kind could. She looked up at the rogue, still standing in shock above the body of the Drakkin, bloody knife in her hand. Tajer sat up, shoving one of Jetamio’s arms off her.
“Well…that did not go quite as planned. Thank the Gods I am sanguine, for that would have killed me.” She got shakily to her feet, and looked down on Jetamio’s body. For a fraction of a second, guilt flooded through her and also fear of divine repercussions. She knew what Jetamio had been, and wondered what wrath Tunare would expend upon her. But her thoughts were quickly dispelled by the rogue.
“What’s this?” She held up a gold necklace with a purple black pendant on it, engraved with a dragon in gold. It was Jetamio’s, and she assumed it must have fallen off during the scuffle. She shrugged at the rogue. “It was hers.”
“It’s pretty. Can I have it?”
“If you want, I guess…” deciding only a rogue would steal from the dead. The rogue slipped the chain over her head with a pleased grin, now unfazed at what she had done. In her eyes she had defended Tajer, and she felt no guilt.
“Mummy!”
Both spun to face the house at the young voice calling out into the darkness for his mother. The rogue’s hand twitched towards her knife again but Tajer stopped her. “The boy is of no concern, lets go before the others wake.” Without a backwards glance she slipped back into the trees with the rogue at her heels, leaving Jetamio’s lifeless form out on the grass as her son called out for her again.

"Mother!"
The youth woke up drenched in a cold sweat and sat bolt upright. Realising he had been dreaming again, he calmed down though he could not shake off the dream. It was not the first time he had dreamed of it, and the memories of the actual event were still etched upon his young mind. To this day he did not know whom the two Tier'Dal were, but every time he dreamt of them he vowed to one day bring them to justice. Even now he still looked out for any Tier'Dal woman wearing his mothers necklace though he had yet to meet many at all. He had only just become old enough to travel more unattended, and had spent most of his fifteen years in the North with his fathers people.
Unable to get back to sleep, he got out of bed and dressed, then made his way downstairs. He made himself a huge mug of hot chocolate and sat his huge form at one of the larger tablles sipping it, wondering if this night brought anyone else troubled dreams.

[Alsurin]

Alsurin rapped his knuckles against the hogan door, trying to walk the awkward balance between not waking his other companions and being heard over the rain now plastering the drakkin's hair and clothes to his body. Did Karana never cease showering this place with his rather obnoxious blessing? "Are you alright in there Tortha?"

Groaning inwardly as his cloth traveler's clothes seemed to inexorably absorb every drop falling with four feet of his body, the mage waited not quite patiently for a response, if any, from within.

[Jetamio]

Hearing a sound at the door he looked up from his hot chocolate and looked out the window at the pouring rain. Who in their right mind would be out there on a night like this. Then he heard words spoken, his name even, and went to the door. He glanced at Sidheag, but the white wolf lay quietly watching. There was no threat.
He opened the door to find a soaking wet Drakkin, and suppressed a laugh as he opened the door wide enough to let him in. "The door wasne locked ye know." He closed the door behind the Drakkin again. "Why are you out in a night like this?

[Alsurin]

Alsurin looked up at the northman who supposedly was at least six if not seven cycles younger then him. The fact that this "kid" could probably throw the drakkin over his shoulder like a sack of barley and use him for a mop showed that there was indeed no justice in the world. "Well gradually I've learned that knocking is always a better option. At one point I tried to shake awake a knight I was accompanying and he nearly lopped of my arm."

Feeling his body start to shiver violently, Alsurin decided to accept Tortha's unspoken invitation and step through the doorway. "Thank you, blasted rain here is never anything short of freezing. Why was I out? Well," intoned the young man with a shrug, "as you know I've not been sleeping for a while....naturally anyway...so I decided to help the sentrys keep watch out of a need for something to occupy me. Apparently, this mainly consists of playing dice with them in the guardhouse." He nodded over his shoulder at a distant building in which lights still burned brightly. "Then we heard you yell like one of the indecently large snakes they have around here decided to come in and cuddle. I volunteered to check the situation....which reminds me ...I have to clear the alert...just a moment." Alsurin turned and whistled into the darkness. Several moments later, a call that sounded similar to a magpie answered.

"Alright," said the soaked mage with a smile as he stepped farther into the dwelling, "Now we wont have guardsmen bursting in here, looking for gnolls."

[Jetamio]

The youth blushed. "You heard me over that rain and all the way out there? I didn't mean to disturb anyone, it was just...a bad dream....I think." He busies himself making another hot chocolate, assuming that everyone likes hot chocolate and brings it over to the soaking Drakkin. The white wolf gets up from her spot by the fire and lies instead at Alsurins feet, sniffing him curiously.
"Traitor..." the boy mutters, but in good humor, not minding his warders attentions on the Drakkin.

[Alsurin]

Alsurin slipped off his boots, setting the now swamping leather aside. "Well, one of the guardsmen is half-elven, you could have simply moaned loudly and he would informed us of it." The magus shrugged, "Either way it's of little consequence I....oh..,"he looked down at the large furry body now warming his feet,"um hello there." . He accepted the hot chocolate with a nod, smiling with bemusement at the interesting combination of hospitality. "Errm...thank..freind...and you sir wolf."

The drakkin looked up at the boy intently with eyes of a blue covering the entire orb, shining with the gentle luminance characteristic of those favored by the elder dragons. "So, what did you dream about beastspeaker?" Alsurin bit his lip once those idle words jumped off his tongue, fearing he already knew the painful answer.