OoC: Here you go.

BiC:

The Searcher walked into a long hallway, about three feet wide and seven feet high. Small square-patterns were etched into the white walls’ surface, some pulsing with light blue energy, barely discernable from the white surrounding it. The electricity danced playfully across the surface, seemingly disappearing every few instants, then re-appearing. There were small, red panels every few feet at about shoulder height, all with small runes on them.

“What is this...?” Timaeus’ wondered aloud, taking in the white splendour of the hall he found himself in.

Then, as if as an answer to his question, one of the red panels glowed, and the runes changed to English. They were in a robotic script, and read opening. The panel glowed brightly, as if burning, and slowly grew larger, advancing over the white surface around it. Then, when it was slightly larger than the Angel, it dispersed in a fizz and spark of red mana. Through this new door, Timaeus could see a massive garden, crammed full with exotic trees that spread wide their leafy arms, flowers stained the air with a lovely honey-scent, hedges that rose higher than twice a man’s height. The grass was dark green, teasing Timaeus, daring him to step foot upon it.

The seemingly phantasmic scene was interrupted when a stout, black-clad man materialised before Timaeus. It spoke gruffly and without any last-minute hesitation. “Timaeus Daenmat. Follow me.” The thing walked forward in a slow, precise and robotic kind of waddle. It pushed Timaeus aside as it moved into the hallway. Timaeus followed.

“At the moment, you are probably wondering where you are and who I am,” said the figure as it sauntered along, without looking back at the Demon. “This is the Dome.” It gestured with its short little arms, waving them around like little fat sausages. “A nexus for the dimensions. It opens itself to warriors who show true potential, and entices them in. You are one such individual. Those who come here are given a teacher: someone who has dedicated their time to teaching new and old hopefuls.”

“...Okay...” Said Timaeus, wondering what he was he for. It was a rare sight, Timaeus being shocked, but it was happening.

“And I am a Domerii, one of the Dome’s messengers. I am to deliver you to your living quarters, and your teacher shall meet you when he sees fit.”

Timaeus took in the words as best he could, and he listened intently, even after the Domerii had spoken.

This will be very interesting. I wonder how long I shall be here for. A while, I suppose. Timaeus’s thoughts flew about his head, echoing and repeating and circling. His grip on Jeika tightened, and steeled himself for what he now knew to be the inevitable.

“Timaeus, you will be here for a long time. Maybe the rest of your life,” the Domerii paused for a moment, shielding its grin from the unwary warrior behind him, and continued for maximum impact, “however long it may last.” The Domerii chuckled silently, but Timaeus saw its figure tremble in that grim and cheery way.

And that one sentence, that one iota of speech, was etched into Timaeus’s brain in a second. It would hang there for the rest of his life, keeping him in a constant, yet small, fear. He now realised that though he was immortal, he was not invincible, and one day, sooner or later, he would die. Timaeus’s brow furrowed.

The Domerii led Timaeus through a network of pathways and halls, all elaborate and delicate, some defying gravity, others defying natural logic, but all were wrought of a gleaming, luminous alloy that shone in the ethereal light that emanated from all around.

No matter how deep his disquietude was, Timaeus’s fears were doused here. It was here that Timaeus knew he would become great. This is where he needed to be. This place changed Timaeus’s view of life. He no longer saw everything as dull and useless. It was all linked. Everything was webbed together be sinews of happenings and causes, which all come back to their creators as effects. Everything that Timaeus did from now on would alter his course. He walked with caution.

“It is usual for you to feel unnerved and estranged upon your first encounter with the Dome. It is a mind-wracking thing. Do not allow it to drive you insane.” And with those words, the Domerii disappeared and Timaeus was left alone in a long hallway, flanked by doors on all sides.

The Demon sat down and grabbed his face in his hands, shielding his body from the world outside with his wings, which trembled slowly as he sobbed into his fingers. With red eyes, he looked at the floor that he had huddled close to. It was pale and emotionless, devoid of all but substance. His mind reeled with angst. “Damn it all,” he muttered, his breath having no cheer or merry left in it. There was no solace here, in this cataclysm of realities. It was a painless hell.

When he stood and recomposed himself, Timaeus found his location to be in the centre of a large crowd that had not been there before. He tucked his wings to his side and was knocked by a rushed passer-by. He waded through the crowd in which he was sure of drowning in. He did not see the faces of those who walked by, seeing them only as shadows of his mind, taunting him and chuckling at his crumpled countenance. He plunged his body into the floor as he tripped over a foot, and his nose crunched as blood spilled onto the ground, running uselessly in random directions, throwing itself through the air in undetermined planes of movement that were destroyed as the red liquid hit the white. It was ignored by those around him, and he slowly lifted his body and his pride, finding what methods he had left for holding himself up. Blood still flowed strongly from his nose, and the metallic taste of it tickled his mouth as it found new orifices to explore.

The Dome was playing havoc with Timaeus’s mind, and he let it do so.

After several hours of seemingly endless walking, Timaeus found himself alone, in a long, thin, low hallway that he could only just stand up in. He walked down it, his steps reverberating throughout the promenade. Something was amiss here, something that had been stolen away with no way of return. And whatever it was that was lost, Timaeus found himself linking to and feeling akin with it. He was lost. He had wandered from home, and he would not go back, not now. The seed of insanity had been planted in Timaeus’s mind, and its roots dug deep through his head, seeking out chances of hope to destroy.

For what may have been an eternity, Timaeus sauntered down the hall while his mind fell down a chasm. He was never to be free of such torment, a pain that twisted and churned and grew within his stomach and heart, something that he knew he could not contain or destroy. These thoughts slid around his mind, and eventually, the water would split the rock.

Timaeus snapped out of his reverie, coming to terms with the wall he had only a moment ago connected with. He shuffled back, and looked at the door at his front. In tiny print, smacked into the door, was his name. He fumbled with his hands across the door’s warm surface, searching for a handle, but there was none. When he leaned on the door, though, it gave way and swung open.

Timaeus fell into the room, and recomposed himself. He was in a large, cube shaped room of a black that jumped out at his eyes. There was no source of light, but he could see in one corner a small inkpot and a quill. The ink was white, and drew the Angel towards it. He reached towards it, and grabbed hold of it, allowing his shield to fall to the floor with a delicate clang. A chill ran down his spine as he held the small thing, and he drew forth the quill from the ink, and began to realise that which had been missing. He began to scrawl on the wall words of hope and things that came to mind, a way that he could use to grab hold of his mentality.

Hope water rub scramble I will try my best and you will watch the stars shine with the blades that tease my foes and the insanity that grabs the flower by the petal the petal the stem that reaches to the stars shining in the sky and I watch with pleasure, oooooh...

And who will watch the stars my beloved little moonlit landscape that will believe in me and I will watch with pleasure like the petal that grabs the stars by the flower, oooooh...

And Timaeus went mad. Right then.

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