Displacement

Ulric leaned into Eska as they comforted each other, gently nuzzling the top of her head as she tucked it under his chin while his uncertain silver gaze continued to look around them at the misted forest that seemed to echo with voices of all sorts. Indistinct whispers that seemed to change every time he moved his head. His brow pulled together when she said that she heard Resin's voice and his ears flicked back against his head. So it wasn't just him that heard the voices. At least it wasn't just him that heard the voices and that gave him some solace in the fact that he wasn't losing his mind. He wasn't sure how much of a comfort that was if they were somewhere that they could hear the voices of the dead, but he tried to approach it one thing at a time. "I heard Aranea before I got to you," he admitted," desperately trying to block out the numerous voices and that just seemed to get louder and louder the longer they stood here. "But there's... there's so many voices."

He was eventually able to make out other voices—his mother and father among them and his heart broke as he thought he might have caught a whisper of Azariah and Everlyse—but something made his blood run cold and his hackles bristle more than they had before. Aranea's voice was the loudest of them, but even her voice was eventually drowned out by the distinctive squeaks and yips of young pups. It felt like he couldn't breathe as he listened to them, staring wide eyed out into the trees, frozen in place as they voices and puppy squeaks grew louder and louder until it was all he could hear.

Ulric was jolted out of the horrible trance by Eska's dogs reacted to the voices as well or perhaps just the ominous atmosphere of it all with a snarl and a yip, making him jump and blink as he brought his gaze down to Eska and the smaller canines with a shaky sigh. He gave a shake of his head to her question, replying, "I don't know, but I really don't want to find out." He glanced around at the glowing world around them, watching how the "fireflies" were creating floating motes of light among the mist that reflected the light into creating ghostly shapes all around them. "We should leave."

Ulric Adravendi