A New Kind of Poison (Danvid)

Conflicted (Old)

Even though Daniel was lying in the soft bed while David was asleep in the floor, he still felt- uncomfortable? He couldn't rest, he couldn't think. He needed... something. He pulls himself to his feet, running a hand through his hair. He feels his way to the door, being careful not to stumble into David who was peacefully sleeping  in the floor. The return out into the crisp night air was a bit of a shock, but at least things were fairly peaceful still. He makes his way into the woods, not going as far as he probably should, but he was exhausted. He pulls out his jagged blade, doing his best to strip the bark off of a small portion of the tree in front of him. He carves a rough image of a strange symbol in the bark, placing his hand against it and beginning to quietly speak in Latin. It wasn't long before he drops to his knees, closing his eyes. He clears his mind, trying to focus all of his being on the energy he felt within him. He begins to mumble to himself in Latin. He believed he was speaking to Xemüg, but whether he was actually conversing with anything other than his psyche was up for debate.
"Daniel, my prodigy, you must finish what you started with this camp."
    "It... may be more difficult than I anticipated."
    "Get. It. Done."

Like that, he comes back to his senses. A jolt back to the real world. His eyes shoot open and his heart begins to pound as if it too just realized it was once again conscious. He looks down at his arm, realizing he had marked himself with the same marking as the tree. It was small, and just barely pierced the surface of the skin, but it was there. Small droplets of blood beaded up. A reminder of what must be done, he tells himself.  He climbs up to his feet, dusting himself off. He still felt odd, like all of the events that were happening were just a dream. His head was foggy, and he was having trouble focusing on any single thought. He grips a tree, steadying himself and coughing up some more blood and petals onto the forest floor.

He straightens his posture and takes a moment to collect his thoughts. What was he going to do? He couldn't deny his core belief system, his god. He had been brought up this way. His parents had him witness many 'ascensions' as a child, and had told him he would go on to do big things. Was this the way for him? His head throbbed from the tornado of thoughts he was having. All of this felt wrong. How did he get here? What was he even trying to accomplish? Maybe he'd be better off just to leave, to see if what they said about this 'strange illness' he had was true.