Arachne prepared herself to enter into another dream as she felt her head fall upon the parchment of her book, which she had stealthily taken from the library itself, to properly avoid Xarann during his nightly studies, more so than normal, as she wanted to avoid him after their talk during the lighter cycle of Mystérieuse, which brought many things to light for the both of them. Whether it be about a sibling someone cherished, who was a hundred years lost, which had already been readily anticipated news, or the revelation, although quite obvious, of an unknown power.
What had been revealed to Arachne, although quite salient, and therefore she should have known it sooner, had been weighing down on her mind since then. She kept thinking about what being a bard would mean to her life expectancy in the family, should Matron Aunerae learn of it, and, knowing her, she most likely already had.
But, as her dream commenced, she expected to find herself in the same darkened chamber, where she would find both Bemril and what she thought was Cazna on their knees, bloodied and battered, begging for her to save them. And try as she might, Arachne had always been out of reach, and watched as Cazna was the first to fall, her innards being ripped from her by their mother's demon, her screams echoing throughout the room. Afterwards, Bemril fell to the ground after hours upon hours of torture, as he was strapped to a metal chair, his cries falling to deaf ears as the faceless executioners continued their work, before, he too, fell limp to the jab of a knife. Arachne's knife.
But this dream, although recurring, was not what she saw that night.
Instead, Arachne found herself in a different body than her own, and she only knew this because of this strange body's hair. For it was just as long as her own, but a beautiful shade of brown, not at all similar to mud, but more like a faded brown bloodstain, but in a less gruesome sense. She hadn't even realized that she had opened her eyes until she was met with a blinding light of gold and silver, coming from a home of blue overhead, the perfect light color only tainted by white shapes. All of which were overhead.
Perhaps this was what Cazna called, "sunlight," and "sky?"
The drow elf felt her legs stand up from pasty white sheets, cradled by a light wood frame, her hands reaching out to make the matted bed. And to her own shock, not only were her surroundings and hair different, but so was her skin color, which was instead a very light gold color, somehow swirled with white, a glimmering silver sheen on her arms. It became evident then that Arachne had shifted into a different elf, completely void of the Underdark itself. And the life around her was too vivid to be a wishful dream, more like a distant memory within her.
Almost as if she was going through the Reverie, her first trance.
Her soft golden hands ran through the sheets, an elegant voice coming from her mouth, more so from her nose, as she hummed a tune she had never heard of before, but, clearly, this elf had, as the sound seemed to be what she lived for as she did the work she needed to before she changed out of her undergarments. The small job had been completed rather quickly, undoubtedly due to the fact that this woman had done it a thousand times over in her lifetime, and the efficiency of which she worked was remarkable even for the house slaves of Arachne's own home. Although, due to the fact that she did not condone their work, she simply made her bed in the morning with the facade of wanting to rely on herself.
Walking to the foot of the bed to admire her work, delicate hands pressed up against her small, elven, waist, this much she knew, Arachne felt her legs begin to move forward once more, to a different room in the foreign home which she had awoken in. This one was a closet, relatively large in size, with different white and blue robes, each with a burst of a flying star or of a small silvery crescent shape, the name "moon," echoing throughout her mind as she stared at it long and hard despite the fact that her own body betrayed what she wished to allow her gaze to fall on. Instead, she turned to a different side of the closest, where it appeared as if normal attire adorned that end, however continuing the pattern of blue and white, with the occasional deep green dress smattered between the two lighter colors, each seeming to symbolize a certain lifestyle, that of which Arachne was unfamiliar with.
Finding her grasp find itself on a blue dress, and after putting underclothes on, the dress resting on a small table, she slipped into it with surprising ease, the waist hugging against her waist and bosoms, this highlighted even further so after she layered a white skirt over, which was before she was able to tie the corset strings together in the proper pattern, which seemed new to the elf's hands, although Arachne herself had tied corset strings on her own for such a long time, she could most likely do it in the blinding light of the surface, or, in other words, with her eyes shut tight. Nine hells, she could most likely even do it without fingers. That aside, it was quite the flattering girdle, with clear brown leather, tough black strings, and an ornate leaf pattern embossed in the leather, no doubt representing some form of accelerated status.
In the same closet, which seemed to act as both a lavatory and dressing room, attached to the wall was a small vanity mirror, and table from which the dress had been set beforehand, where meager portions of makeup and hair beads and bands were sorted into small wooden hanging baskets attached to the side of the drawers. Sitting down at the chair, her skirt tucked underneath her and protecting her behind from the rough material of the seat cushion itself, Arachne found her hands beginning to intertwine beads and curling wires alike into her moderately thick, a silky tactility to it; and, she found herself make her hair in a bun with two protruding strands from the side of her face from either side were adorned with both a spiral golden wire and bead at the bottom, a small golden ornament in the tie itself, the same crescent shape making itself known once more.
Standing up from her seat, Arachne moved outside of the room, and out into the outer hallway just outside of the bedroom of which she had woken in this strange body which she had no control of whatsoever. Walking into this corridor, it became quite evident that she was quite far from home, if she was even in the same time period of her own home, as the golden light shone too bright for Lolth to be in existence then. But perhaps Her presence was missing from the surface, as she focused on the havoc She brought to the Underdark, and only came up to the above world when Her children decided to destroy what they found in Her name.
Making her way past through the extensive hallway, different doors with numbers carved into their wood, different noises of dwelling, even sensual ones, making themselves known through their respective doors. Climbing down a flight of curving stairs, Arachne found herself face-to-face with a rather tall elven man, who looked down at her with a warm, white, smile on his face.
"Enyra! Long time no see, hm?" He said, the smile on his face never turning sour as Arachne was sure it would have as he moved to her side, walking down the staircase with her, he, too, clad in blue and white. She felt herself, or whoever this Enyra was, smile delicately, folding her small golden hands together, holding her cloak close to her as the morning cold brushed against her dainty skin, the man wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
She chuckled despite the uncomfortable cringe that followed, albeit awkwardly as she grabbed his arm, moving it back to his own side and off of her shoulder. "Well, Aepetor, it has been about two hundred years, and it seems you are just as… how shall I put it?" Arachne pressed a thoughtful finger to her chin, "Clingy. You are just as clingy as you were before." She said it with such a jocose growl that even the drow elf, who was accustomed to such treatment, and was seeing through her own eyes, was surprised beyond compare at this response, almost amused at that.
The man gave a hearty, almost youthful chuckle, "That's the Enyra Oakenvale I know! It seems becoming a priest hasn't changed you one bit." The woman laughed along, a clear, joyous giggle, making it clear that her initial displeased motion was to simply aid to a centuries long joke, as she and the man embraced each other with an amiable hug just as they had entered the foyer of what appeared to be a place where many people lived if they could not afford a house of some sort.
Leaving each other's arms, a smile still adorned on her face, warm and tender all at once, a form of grin foreign to Arachne's own mouth, as she had only two smiles, one of fake sadism, and another of joy, which she could rarely allow rise upon her face, but this woman could do everything she wished, smile as much as she wanted, and plan her life as she intended it to be, and for that the drow elf's consciousness envied this Enyra. Despite this, the memory was still refreshing, reminding her that light could be found even amidst the darkness of her world, and perhaps one day she could be that light. Perhaps one day she could escape the Underdark, and see the light she did aspire to be for her people.
Torn away from her momentary spell, her legs began to move once more, the man, Aepetor, still walking by her side, talking about different events that had happened during childhood, and in later adulthood before they lost each other during Aepetor's reassignment from his station in the military. Enyra had stayed in the city she took residence in, Mytrenhil, as a healer and priestess for those within the Corellon church, and had only known her elven companion due to his affinity of harming himself whilst he was sparring with his superiors. Most joked he was young and foolish, as he had only just broken the threshold of one hundred the past fifty years ago.
"So, what brings you back to Mytrenhil? Hopefully not another reassignment, you must have left another poor priest, hm?" She remarked in a facetious way, a playful smile on her face once more, which was a frequent thing in this different life, a wide grin always embedded on Enyra's face, so much so that small lines had been stained upon her cheeks from the amount of which she smiled, unlike most drow elves, who had marks from how much they frowned.
Aepetor's smile faded for a moment, a small expression of regret making itself known, grazing over his otherwise happy features, his head of brown hair held low in culpable shame. "Parts of Nyne Aethel were destroyed, and it was my job to find out why, only to find that a group of goblins, hobgoblins, ogres, and bugbears were the culprits, led by a strangely intelligent werewolf. I decided, rather foolishly, as I always have been, to attempt to scare them off, at the expense of…" He stopped right at that moment, indicating what had been lost, also speaking silent words of the situation of his reassignment. "I've been told to not return to the force."
Her own smile faded, "I'm sure they'll pull their heads back on, Aepetor. You're too brave of a man to not keep on a force, and if they don't re-tie their knots, the militiamen are always open. You may even reach the top rank with your abilities. Don't fret, Corellon will always be with you."
Aepetor smiled woefully, "Gods be good."
~
Arachne then came to wake once more, questions swirling about her mind as if they were lacking some form of barrier, but with some form of newfound ideology, and an aspiration:
To escape her home, and touch the light of the surface world, to finish the journeys of two of her family members, who had fallen short from the same aim.