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Snippet #2698385

located in Kyrik, a part of Just A Child's Tale, one of the many universes on RPG.

Kyrik

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ryden Burnham Character Portrait: Allison Bonneville Character Portrait: Iris Montgomery Character Portrait: Caspian Ozpin Character Portrait: Leonard Hardwick Character Portrait: Peter Lukeson
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Holding the book in his hands, Ryden watched his two children from behind pages of Atlas Shrugged. They all were bundled up on his bed, waiting impatiently for their nightly storytelling. It was a ritual of theirs to send them to bed with their minds swimming with good stories. Nightmares don't happen if you dream about being a dragon. Setting the book on the nightstand, Ryden leaned in close to his children. Emelia wore a big grin, hugging onto one of the pillows and kicking her feet.

"Since Alex got an A on his test, he gets to pick what the story is about."

There was a mixture of protests and cheers, his son slamming his fists down onto the mattress as he got to his knees, "One about a hero fighting a monster! The little boy exclaimed, his twin pouting next to him as Ryden began his story. It always felt organic, making up a tale that captivated his children. They were always a good inspiration for his novels. They sat there, listening to him intently, their attention never leaving as he painted worlds around them. As he spoke, Ryden caught Olivia in the doorway, a small smile on his lips.

"I think it's time for bed," He said after a bit, causing the twins to protest. "It's a school night, now go and I'll come tuck you in." As the two kids slid off of the bed and left the room, Ryden got up and walked over to his wife. She smiled and placed a quick kiss against his lips.

"I didn't think I'd be at work so late," She said with a quiet sigh, pulling her hair out of a bun, "What did they have for dinner?" Olivia looked drained as she looked up at Ryden. Bags hid noticeably behind her concealer, her movements sluggish and exhausted from a long shift at the hospital.

"Macaroni and cheese," He chuckled, shrugging at her look of irritation, "I'm no chef, Dear. I ordered take out for you, it's in the fridge. I need to go work on my novel so I'll be in my office."

He gave her a gentle kiss on her temple before leaving the bedroom, his shoulders sagging as he heard her muttering about the liquor he hid in his office. He was getting over his constant addictions but it was always easy for him to fall back. It was a demon, coaxing him with a promise of pleasure and a cure for his depression. It wrapped its black fingers around his eyes and forced him to ignore all he cherished. Sinking into a seat in his office, he eyed the bottle of spirits before grabbing it and pouring a small drink. One drink won't kill me. He thought to himself, taking a sip and grimacing at the burn that slithered its way down his throat.

~


Cold water doused Ryden's sleep into a sputtering of curses. Covering his face with his hands, he wiped the water away from his eyes. God, he didn't even want to look up, a pounding against his skull so fierce he thought he was dying. "Get up!" He heard a screech, groaning as the noise made his head feel as if it had been cracked. "I said get up!" The voice boomed again, delivering a hard kick to his side.

"Jesus fuck, give me a minute!" He snapped back, pulling himself into a sitting position before fully opening his eyes. He was greeted with the grimace of an old man, teeth rotted out and dressed in rags. He was sitting in straw, a horse watching the two from its stall. There are no horses in Boston. He thought to himself, gripping at his head. Was he dreaming? What kind of vivid trip was this? Had he relapsed? All these thoughts went through his head simultaneously, the old man yanking him by his shirt.

"Who the fuck 'er you?" He demanded, "Why are you slumberin' with my horses?" The old man asked, a chortle following as he gave Ryden a peculiar look.

Ryden didn't respond, only watching the old man in confusion. "I am terribly sorry, but where am I?" He asked, picking some straw out of his hair. Everything smelled of horse shit, he was now soaked and his skull felt as if it were about to split in half. What the Hell was going on?

"The village of Tiel."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Tiel of Kyrik, boy!" He laughed, the sound turning into a whooping cough, "How much did ya drink to not remember where you are?" Standing up, Ryden felt his heart seize in his throat. He was still in the clothes from last night. The last thing he could remember was drinking a bit while working on his story. "Yer a peculiar looking fellow. You come from across the ocean?"

Shaking his head, Ryden walked out of the barn. He was on a farm, a valley stretching out for miles all around. In the distance was a town, the buildings looking run down and almost primitive. He couldn't help the panic that started to bud in his stomach. He needed to get home to his kids and wife. Hopefully, someone from the town could help him. He started walking towards it, ignoring the geezer as he called for him back. Someone must know what to make of this.

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