Perlì had been leaning against the office's door, leaned on the frozen, cold wooden door, the ground chilly and in a way soothing, as if the edifice itself was providing protection for him to be there. The far thrum of quiet in the fortress enveloped him, punctuated only by the muffled thrum of noises outside the door, noises that filtered through the wood without needing to be screamed in order to be heard. He had no idea if he wanted to hear, but the sound filled the air too insistently to be ignored.
Uslein had applied the same deep level tone of reporting in well-chosen words, never hasty, never drowsy. "Someone such as him, coming from outside of Schönheit, provides an experience we have never developed. He doesn't carry the same loads. He's worth it for the reason that he recalls the world we've cut ourselves off from. We could improve our situation thanks to him."
Rery's reply a moment later, flavored with self-control but not uncertainty. "Only if he agrees."
They stood there for an instant, unmoving. Not a crash of noise, but the kind that seems to press two streams of thought.
"He will." Uslein replied, as calm as water. "Otherwise why would he be summoned here for?"
The hall behind the door fell silent, and Perlì sensed the heaviness of that silence settle upon the hall like melted wax from a candle flame. And then, out of nowhere, came another voice. It did not jump a note up in pitch or catch its breath. It simply was, now and here, without explanation or source.
"Have you lost faith in Cornelia? I thought you were one of her most loyalists Rery."
The question arrived as meteor, unspoken but dropped into place, both for anyone who could be in front of the door or inside the room.
Rery's answer was as stubborn as melted metal forged into a sword. "I haven't. I always will believe in Her."
The conversation continues, Uslein asks Rery how she's doing. The topic might have been interesting, even if it meant learning more about Rery's brother, but Perlì was losing concentration. He was getting tired, or rather, he was sleepy.
Perlì found his hands heavier now than they once had been, and his limbs not his own. The strain that had supported him upright drained from him beat by beat. His shoulders dropped somewhat, and he relaxed his back against the wall a little farther down to find himself sitting out with straight legs and arms crossed over his knees. The hall wasn't the warmest place to rest, but hugging himself and with the help of sleep this was the least of his problems.
His mind started to roam, not in words but in shades of emotion, the kind that curled at the edge of the eyes when sleep time came. The words behind the door began to falter, no longer words but nascent rhythms, syllables curling around each other like waves which never brushed the shores. The air around him grew heavy. His limbs hardened.
He closed his eyes telling himself
*I think I will just rest for a minute, just a mere minute.*
The darkness behind the eyelids glittered.
When he opened them once more, all was altered.
There was no breath and no sound. There was light only.
It had come out of his body in impossible softness, tendrils of pale blue light drifting like mist on a pond, wrapping itself up in fine lace around the edges of his clothes and the folds of his skin.
The light wasn't burning, it was more a quivering impression of softness that made it seem less than changing and less than remembering. Where the light touched him, he felt less, but not numbness, only distance, as though some part of him was being taken from him, bit by bit, to display something lighter and simpler.
His fingertips first, not to ash, but to blue curls that curled once and then evaporated on the air. Then his wrists, the backs of his hands, the soles of his sleeves, all slipping away soundlessly. He could still feel the floor beneath him, still feel the turn of the corridor, but no longer his own. It had already begun to let him go.
No terror and no battle. Just the wistful amazement of being slowly unraveled.
*It is only a dream.*
He reminded himself again, but now the words were a blessing whispered on sand. The light crept to his arms, to his ribs, to the empty space above his heart that appeared to contain nothing.
And yet, within it, he couldn't forget the horrors of Schönheit mixed with how much he had been struck by both Rery and Uslein, it was unusual to Perlì. They hadn't been fantasies, they hadn't been hallucinations, they hadn't been fake. And there was something about that that made the dream worthwhile to hold onto, even now, as it disintegrated.
*I want to stay here and learn more about this place. What do I have to do in Couesnon anyways?*
The light reached his throat's height, up the curve of his jaw and to the rims of his cheeks. He relaxed his breathing, not out of fear, but because he no longer had to. The fog crept in slender laces of lace along the top of his head, and he could feel the final strands of himself begin to unravel.
And then there was sound.
"Outlander?!"
It was Rery's voice, now so rough, roaring in wonder. Her voice cracked the subtle harmony that had formed
"It's been like 5 minutes, and you are already sleeping?!"
And then Uslein's voice, half-laugh, half-suppressed howl.
"Gods, he actually slept thus, outside the door—"
Perlì wanted to answer, "I told you I was lazy.", but he simply smiled at Uslein's reaction.
Then everything went dark.
For just a moment.
When Perlì opened his eyes again, the ceiling hanging above was the same of his bedroom, white as milk.
Dull from blue hour light coming through the curtains. He slowly he tried to light the lamp on his right without getting up yet.
The bedside clock was 6:00 AM.
Alongside it, in the light,the Lotus Flower seed that he had dreamed was there.