He had not dreamed in what felt like ages, the last on memory was when he had fallen sick. Then they had been waking nightmares. He had shifted between fevered dreams and hallucination, it had been hellish and Novocaine had been grateful when empty sleep had returned to him. Before then the last he could remember was when he had just been a pup, the scene of his mother's death playing over and over in his sleep.
The unknown forest stretched out before him, and as he blinked the sleep put of his eyes he frowned, having a hard time bringing his surroundings into focus. It was so much more than simply the missing eye, the trees seemed to have an ethereal quality to them. Novocaine stood stock still confusion furrowing his brow.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? she is roused from her eternal slumber as if summoned by one beyond her tranquil realm, pallid lids fluttering to unveil metallic eyes that had not seen in years. and the machiavellian beauty is so engrossed in the silent scrutiny of her ethereal and pale surroundings that her movements are subconscious, languid -- immaculate as the poised specter she had become after a downfall so abrupt and graceless. it is not until the battered form of her own child { blood of her blood } manifests within the premises of her white wood that the fallen deity is drawn from her trance-like state, a frown chiselling her unsullied countenance as confusion dominates her train of thought. ?novocaine?? her vocals are a gentle whisper as she halts mere feet from him, a beacon of elegance and fortitude. concern briefly envelops avid pupils as they diligently ravage his dainty physique, lingering momentarily upon the empty socket where a cerulean eye once dwelled. ?my child --?



she attempts to close the distance between mother and son with lengthy strides, seeking to briefly hook her neck around his own as if to offer a motherly embrace -- because the scene unfolding before her eyes is all too real. and once the machiavellian attaches herself from her son?s tight proximities, her metallic gaze fixates upon his singular eye, worry flaring within her chest cavity. ?novo, what has happened?? she queries, not only questioning his handicapped state, but of the events proceeding her ruthless murder. for while the deity does dwell in detached realms from what is reality, she is not omniscient.

He squinted, the glare of the forest giving him only fleeting glances of the pale specter moving towards him. His mind was flying to conclusions, but the rational part of him quashed them like a bug beneath his paws. That was till her voice pushed through the fog of the dream. Instantly his posture changed, knees growing weak and yet he forced himself to remain standing. His tail tucked itself between his legs and a soft whine pulls from his lips, weakness shining through him for the first time in a long time. The carefully placed and built up mask of indifference, of ego crumbling in one short instant.
The woman closed the gap between them. She felt so real, so? alive. ?Mother.? His words are breathy as if any sort of volume would cause the apparition to disappear. His mother uttered four simple words and instantly a bitterness fills him, and more than that a fear. Can he speak of what has transpired between himself and his sister to the woman? Can he even bring himself to utter his new name. With a sigh he pulled away, dropping his gaze unable to look at her who so closely resembles Artemis. ?Artemis happened? Though I suppose I brought it upon myself. I just- I was just doing what I thought would make you proud.? His voice dropped and he tucked his head against his chest. ?That?s all I?ve ever wanted.?