Presence
Mantle - Chilling breeze, summoning tiny leaves
The apartment is tiny and bare, but it was only a temporary arrangement. Hopefully.
The only real sign of habitation was the array of books on the side. Old copies of works. Aggripa. Crowley. Hans Anderson. Grimm. Fiction can hold glimpses of truth.
Looking around the city trying to find a Hollow was a slow process, with little luck so far. But it did help him become familiar with the area surrounding the Freehold. Each piece of knowledge was another tool against anyone that might come for him.
Even here, in this small location, knowledge and insight could be gleamed. Ironically it was one location Rhodes could truly feel free. Clad only in his pants, the dark slender branches made a strong contrast as they broached his pale skin. His dark green leaves and red flowers bloomed at his shoulders. In private they could be free and breathe, something clothing hampered of necessity.
Rhodes laid on the unadorned bed. Resting. A book on dreams sat next to him, finished. It hadn't been much help, but human insight into dreams was guidance, if not as the author intended.
The whole process would be different with a subject, or in the Hedge. Viewing the dreams of others through their fogs of the id. But practice makes perfect, and where better to practice than at home....
******************************
Rhodes stood, eyes closed. In his minds eye he looked down on himself. Thin robes of red, brown and gold covered his form, cut in unusual ways to let his natural foliage through. For miles in every direction, clear blue sky met hard, dried earth, until the fuzzy horizon. The sun beat down.
Taking a deep breath, Rhodes exerted his will upon the dream, as he had many times before. He raises his arms slowly, the earth molding to his command and raising him up on a pedestal over a hundred feet high and over twenty wide at the base, yet a yard's width on the pinnacle of the dais where he stood.
Sweeping his arms outward, the landscape began bursting into bloom and greenery, a verdant meadow stretching to the horizon. Swinging his arm overhead, the sun sped up across the sky matching the arc of his hand, turning day into night. Raising his hands again, hands as claws, the landscape around transformed, becoming mountains.
Another sweeping gesture. The sky broiled over with thunderclouds.
A forefinger thrusts towards the mountain, the lighting arcing from the sky to its direction. And again. And again. Satisfying.
A sweep of both arms. A cloudless night.
A raising of the hand, palm upturned in a claw. The earth rumbled, walls, towers all bursting from the ground. The podium rose also, higher than all of them, forming the highest tower. A fairytale castle rose from the bedrock.
A snap of fingers, and the dull, functional walls became carved, elegant. Gargoyle and carvings lines the courtyard. SNAP. And the towers. SNAP. And the buildings.
Scarlet fire crackles to life in his hands, sending out burning arcs of fireworks out over the castle, illumination the night sky.
Rhodes closed his eyes.
SNAP.
The gothic world is gone, and he is sitting in a white room, at a glass desk. Outside the window is Sacramento. Black, inky darkness oozes from beneath every wall towards him. The darkness never ends, but flows up, into his hands, becoming malleable and hovering between his hands. A rose, in resplendent white. It melts into black, reforming as a cellphone. A brick. A meatball sub. A sword. He takes the hilt. The blade changes subtly to his silent command, becoming serrated, double-bladed, guarded, steel, bronze, blue alloy, all as he wished.
The room shatters into black ink joining the pool. The city is gone. Rhodes rides the cyclone of darkness under the full moon sky. The Fairest raises his fingers.
SNAP.
******************************
Rhodes opens his eyes, slowly. The sun is high in the sky, shining through the crack in the curtains. Only in dreams.
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