A pale silver light softens the edges, the colors, the shades. Bleeding into eachother, they form an almost pastel tableau of strangely surreal surroundings. Nothing quite seems solid, nothing quite seems real.

It is like faded chalk upon the walk, yet with such vividness and clarity as to be almost painful to the eyes. Ryouga finds himself at times needing to shut them, to not look at the intensity.

He turns his gaze to his own hands, which seem too sharp, too solid. Far more than the imagery surrounding him. "Where am I?" His voice is muffled, muted, as if heard at a distance to even himself.

There is a mirror on the wall, reflecting light in the same pastel wonderland as all else. He vaguely sees the shape of his face. It is unfamiliar to him, strange angles and corners that are alien to his spotty recollection. His head feels filled with fluff, dense with it.

His throat growls, hands clutching at his ears as he inwardly seethes at the disorientation. His eyes open and he looks at the figure he is sharing a room with.

It is an old man, spindly in appearance with a hawkish nose. Spectacles hover halfway down the bridge as he reads. He is not entirely bald, a goodly mane of hair remaining atop his head, the hair brushed back to give it a windswept look.

He lies upon a bed, several warm blankets wrapped snugly around him. Assumedly it is to keep him warm, but it also gives evidence that there is little more to the man than skin and bone.

The old man's lips move, though he does not speak, murmuring lightly the words he reads as if meditating upon them. He pauses after some minutes and leans against the headboard, breathing somewhat laboriously before suffering a coughing fit. He supplies from his nightstand a cloth as the coughs grow quite ragged.

Ryouga feels his heart sink as he sees blood on the old man's lips, dabbed away by the cloth. The old man sets it aside, breathing deeply several times. He knew, somehow, that the man had consumption of the lungs, and little time to live.

His mind buzzes lightly as he moves to view the face-up, open book the man had been looking over. It was some sort of personal book, poems and personal thoughts written throughout. The date was 1779.

Before the chill could pass entirely through him as he wondered exactly how he got quite THIS lost, the carved Oak bedroom door opened, and a young lady of some 16 years stumbled in a bit, carrying a brown paper package tied up with string.

There was a definite fairness about her, though she was also somewhat thin, she had the hints of womanhood about her and a well kept brown braid. Her freckled face was cute, but not quite beautiful. No, it remained for her eyes to do her justice; their rich emerald hue seeming vivid and solid to Ryouga's notice.

She was dressed in the fashion of the time, though somewhat understated and not quite refined. Everything about her, sans her eyes, spoke of someone who felt a profound unremarkableness about themselves.

"Uncle Antony, I do hope I am not intruding," Her voice was paper thin and gentle, with a small hint of squeek as she ended her sentence. She gave a half-hearted smile, her hands holding the package delicately against her midriff.

The old man, Antony, coughs briefly before he makes a dismissing gesture, "Mary, child, don't ever think you aren't welcome here. Now what have you got there?"

"It's- It's a gift, Uncle," She Moves forward, carefully she sits beside the bed, being sure to keep the flows of her skirt from catching or ripping as she sat. She sets the package upon Antony's lap. There is a blush to her cheeks as she looks at him, a faint smile and a hint of tears.

Ryouga moved around the two of them, baffled as to how he came to be here as well as what was going on. He was somewhere else a moment ago… wasn't he? It was cold.

Antony's face wrinkles in a smile. He takes his spectacles from his face, setting it gently aside on the nighstand. "Don't worry, Mary. I'm only dying, it isn't any more severe than that," He coughs into the cloth a moment more, gesturing towards the tea table across the room, "Mary dear, please… bring me some tea."

Her lip quivers slightly, looking into his deep blue eyes. "Yes, Uncle," She rises up, smoothing the pleats upon her dress as she moves to the tea, her movements are smooth, practiced, elegant. She hums softly to herself as she pours the tea, moving with the saucer and cup back to the bedside as she hands it to Antony.

"Yes, quite… thank you dear, evermost good of you," He cups her chin for a moment, smiling again as he sips his tea. Turning his attention to the package he mm's quietly, a sad look in his eyes as he unwraps the package.

Ryouga peers intently at the box as it is opened. A delicate copper and glass piano sits inside. He watches as the thin, wrinkled fingers of Antony lift the piece out. "You know, when I was younger, I could play the piano."

"You could, uncle?" She leans upon the bed, her eyes looking with such love at the older man, fascination and perhaps regret.

He laughs somewhat raggedly as he sets his saucer and cup down, winding the small music box slowly with one hand. "You want me to tell you, I suppose… well, my mother insisted that I learn. It was not just piano, though. When I put my mind to it, I could do anything… and did."

Antony gets a far off look as music begins to chime out of the small piano. He sets it delicately on the nightstand, next to his glasses as he takes up his tea again, sipping. He looks at the young girl, so beautiful and of tender years. Her family had long lived with his, not specifically family of blood but of necessity. Were he fourty years younger…

"Yes, well… my mother bought me a Cristofori Piano for my twentieth birthday, even though I insisted my time was better spent upon bettering my social standing and athletics. I was not always so much for culture, a great misfortune which I have long regretted in knowing you."

Mary's cheeks redden, her eyes looking at her folded hands in her lap as she fidgets briefly, "You give too much respect to me, Uncle… I'm just a girl."

"Never say that," His tone is cutting as he sets his cup upon the saucer, favoring Mary with piercing eyes, his blue gaze intense and inscrutable, untamable. "You are not just a girl, Mary. You are my friend, as has always been since the day you were born. You have a keen mind and sharp wit."

He shakes a finger at her, "You have gifts and talents which God has given you to use, not to waste. Girl or not," He pauses, softening as he looks down in his tea, he finishes the cup, feeling somewhat faint already.

"Yes, Uncle," She has tears in her eyes, sniffling as she looks up at Antony's pale face. "I love you, Antony," A lone tear journey's down her cheek as she looks at the old man.

He nods, shifting in bed into a laying position. "Oh, I know dear child. Would that I could say that you reminded me of my dear wife… she was sometimes difficult," He half smiles, "Oh, perhaps if I was of marrying age I'd remarry… I do favor you quite a bit myself, my dear."

"WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON!!!" Ryouga's voice seems lost in a wind tunnel, faint and ghostly as he jaunts around the room, looking out the windows.

"WHO IS DOING THIS?! WHAT IS HAPPENING!" Again, he is muted…. Silent as snow upon a mountain top.

"Uncle, you say such flattering things to me," She takes his hand into hers, touching it to her face, "But would be for wishes only, however much we may."

"Promise me you will not let your femininity hamper you, Mary… that you will staunchly refuse to be pigeon-holed into your genders so convenient shapes and forms, do not lose your soul, your passion, and do note how seriously I take a word said in honor. If you redoubt my plee, I promise to haunt you always in the most irritable of fashions," He smiles again at her, stroking her lips with his thumb.

"I- I promise, Antony… I promise," Her tears flow freely now, down her face. She laughs lightly even as the tears slide down her face. "You always could make me laugh."

"You as well, though my laughing is more inward, my dear," He wipes her tears away as he reaches down and grasps her hand. "I am not long for this world, I'm afraid. The tea, you see-"

"I know," She nods, a bit too emphatically as she bites her lower lip, "I know, Antony."

"Sing for me, my dear. I want to hear your voice one last time," He squeezes her hand tightly.

Ryouga pauses, turning to look at the girl and old man. He watches as the girl caresses Antony's hands with her fingertips, eyes lowered lightly, before she began to sing in the most painfully beautiful voice...

"Oh love, so sweet and long delayed

That you could meet me on the glen

To share in sweetness, for a day.

My darling one, your own sweet smile,

Can charm and cheer and soon beguile

That darkest shadowed part of me

And keep me well worthwhile.

We have not long before the dance,

So brief a kiss, and half a glance

Do keep me in your secret arms

And give us half a chance.

You part now dear, but all too soon

My heart is full, it has no room

To spare for a soul of different hue

Of this, I cannot choose.

You are far apart of me,

Going home to sun-warmed fields

Your deep blue eyes, I cannot see…

And so, we all must sleep dear friend,

Our moment now has come to end."

Her cheeks are wet as she stops, squeezing the lifeless hand of Antony as she throws herself upon him, kissing him gently on the lips, his eyes closed. "Oh, Antony… I am broken to pieces, and cannot mend my love," She trembles as she holds to his lifeless body.

Ryouga pressed himself against the wall, watching the girl tremble and shake with her sobs. He does not know why he sees this, why he is here. His fragile heart wants to console the girl, to tell her of sweet dreaming of a great beyond, assure her that her love is not passed but only waiting.

"You should not be here," The voice is rich, powerful, gentle yet decidedly male. There is a practiced calmness in the tone, as well as a hint of… silver.

"Who are you, and where the heck am I?" Ryouga turns to the strange visage, outlined in the same starkness as himself. His robes a pale silver in the light, gold kanji hemmed around the sleeves and hood.

The robed figure shifts, wisps of pale blue hair glanced as it stops in front of Ryouga, "I am a servant of the Kami, and you are in the dreamtime," a hand raises, kanji visibly tattooed upon the back of the hand as the self proclaimed servant gestures at Mary and Antony. "They linger in the river which runs deepest, memories of the soul and sorrows."

"Memories," Ryouga mouths, a faint hint of reverence before he shakes his head, "My memories?" He asks, holding his head in great confusion. No, that didn't seem right. He was doing something, somewhere- else.

The figure locks his hands together, the robe sleeves hiding both, "No. You are as much a stranger here as I am. You do not belong here, but you could not be left to vanish into the void."

"The void?" Ryouga clenches his fists, growling at the figure as he moves to grab him. Stumbling, he looks at the space where the stranger had been.

"These are his memories," The figure stands behind Ryouga, pointing a long finger at the silent form of Antony. "Many lives, all kept within the river of the spirit; alive in the dreamtime, eternal ghosts of the past."

Ryouga growls, launching toward him again, fists moving through thin air, his kicks meeting only the door. "Stay still, dammit!"

The robed man tilts his head slightly, favoring a small smile for Hibiki Ryouga. "Though you should not be here, perhaps you can assist in saving the boys soul."

"Boy?" Ryouga pauses, hands squeezing tightly in fists as his eyes widened in realization, "Ranma."

"Though you were delivered from oblivion by my hand, I must confess that I had trouble finding you here in the dreamtime. Something I am unequivocally unaccustomed to," His hands move upwards, pinching the fabric of his cowl before revealing his face.

There is a regality, a finely chiseled appearance to the robed figures face. His violet eyes glow with a gentility beyond mere mortality. His hair is an electric blue, bright and shining with an almost metallic glow. Most notable of his features are the markings upon his cheeks, the diamond tiara upon his forehead, and a distinct point to his ears.

"Not something I'm very proud of, if you're referring to how easily I get lost," Ryouga restrains himself, uncertain how this man could be dodging him so effortlessly. Even Ranma gave the appearance of movement when they were in a brawl.

There is a brief look of surprise on the figures face before he smiled, pronounced canines apparent in his grin. "You're a Hibiki, then."

"Is that supposed to be an insult, old man?" He grabs an end table by the door and launched it at the figure, watching to see how he moves.

Ryouga's eyes grow in shock as the figure does not so much move as flicker and flow, like wind or mist. There is a soft metallic sound, like chimes upon the wind. Silver wind.

He materializes again, a gentle laugh like a fresh spring day, "Oh, my child, not at all," He smiles, genuinely at Ryouga. "I had no insight that Ranma had such a valuable friend as you. But then, that is not a surprise if you are a Hibiki."

Ryouga scoffs, gritting his teeth as he circles the man, eyeing him warily. "Friend? I guess. I'm not going to let that jerk die, it would hurt Akane too much," He inwardly curses. He was uncertain if this… entity was the creature causing Ranma's condition or if it was being sincere.

Again, he clasps hands together, bowing a bit to Ryouga as he speaks, "I understand your doubts about me. Truly, I do not believe the feelings of another were the reasons for your action," His eyes look deepy into Ryouga's, unsettling the young Hibiki.

Ryouga turns his eyes away, growling, "Hey, I do what I want, it's none of your business you creepy… whatever you are."

"I am a servant of the Kami, as was stated before. Holy Priest of the East Wind, Vintarou-Ryuu," He is calm, unabashed at the confrontational tone Ryouga was attempting to incite him with. "You are right, that your reasons are your own. It is only that your selflessness bodes well for Ranma's sake."

"Tch. Look, Whatever. How do I get out of here?" He feels somewhat weary all of a sudden, like a strange coldness was seeping into everything.

Vintarou's smile fades suddenly. "If he that dreams lives, so too shall they that journey upon the same path," He replaces the hood, his face grim and resolute in that instant. "It comes now, to do away with you. Perhaps there is still hope for the boy, but you must go now."

"Where the hell am I supposed to go, old man?!" Ryouga throws his hands up, gritting his teeth as Vintarou starts to flow away, evaporating as he moves towards the window of the room.

"Go through the door, and continue… your spirit should find its way to the center, to the master, to the dreamer," Vintarou's arms thrust forward in a series of hand gestures, almost like a dance. His voice recites several long, sonorous notes.

"What!?" Ryouga starts to storm towards the self professed Priest before he pauses, feeling a tremendous sinking in his soul. Like everything had just turned to ice as he sees an absolute black outside of the window.

"Run, Hibiki Ryouga. Run," There was no panic in his voice, only determination and calm. Yet there was a sense of urgency conveyed, not for himself, but for Ryouga.

Ryouga decides that perhaps it is the wisest decision, turning he tears the door off its hinges and rushes through. He stumbles for a moment as his feet find no purchase, his arms searching for the walls before he realized there were none, "Oh- Oh SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-!"

Ryouga Hibiki begins to fall into the vast, dark unknown.