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Through the Living Elan

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  1. Weaver raised his eyebrows. “Yeah… no. Someone else did this. I just led Shovel Man along accidentally. I’m afraid you’ll have to die now.” He swung his scythe. “Fine.”
  2. “One hour left!” Weaver shouted, finishing up the fight on his side. Then he looked and saw the Shovel Man’s nightmare. “Oh goodness.” He said.
  3. “Yep. You’re not a human.” “Probably nigh unto twelve thousand and one.” “Those exist?! I thought it was a myth!”
  4. “Shadowbound!” Weaver yelled. “If you’re going to insult me do it properly.” Weaver blocked the blow with his scythe.
  5. Weaver glared at it, and swung his scythe. “Five hours left!” He shouted. “I’VE LIVED FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS I’M NOT GONNA DIE IN A DREAM!”
  6. “I’m so confused. It’s been a long time? Who are you? How did you get here?”
  7. Time restarted. Weaver swung his scythe, cutting down one of the shadow creatures. “We won’t. I promise you we WILL LIVE.” It worked, the skeleton collapsed.
  8. “You don’t need to. Just stay by me, and you’ll be fine.”
  9. “Not sure. I’m hoping my nightmare doesn’t come either. It could be your amount of magic, or control of your dreams.” “Maybe ten seconds left! We’re still stuck, just get in a better position!”
  10. “Dreams. Nightmares. Ours and those of people who came before.” “Nope. You’d become part of his retinue of nightmares, less dead than living in a dream forever. Halfway between life and death. That might make it worse actually.”
  11. “I have partial control of time. I’m better at seeing what could happen than this. And fighting agains another Shadowbound’s powers? That’s more difficult.”
  12. “Ohhhhhh.” The Once Author said. “Good idea.”
  13. Weaver took off his hood, and ran a hand through his hair. “I wish Clay was here. He’s better with this kind of thing.” He held out his hand to her. “Put your hand in mine.” Weaver shook his head. “STOP!” He screamed. Everything froze. “We have maybe thirty seconds of frozen time.” He explained. “Use it well.” He looked over at the shadows. “Wow. Creepy.”
  14. “So…” The Once Author said. “Narration time?”
  15. “Good, good! Don’t let him have control!” Weaver said, dodging another set of spikes.
  16. The Once Author grinned. “Well, better go quick! People are dying!”
  17. “You have the ability to speak,” the Once Author noted.
  18. “Close your now-existent eyes. You’ve never breathed before have you? Use it to calm yourself. If you think that this is more real than reality you lose control.” A clown in a bright Orange jumpsuit covered in pom-poms hops up to him. “Hi-ya Sleeper! Been a while, you’ve spent WAY too much time awake, here and in TLT!” Weaver dived to the side. “We can’t get out, NOTHING can get us out! We just have to live through the night!” @Nameless*
  19. The Once-Author pulled out a sack, and stuck the Nullite in it. “Have to put it in there, otherwise it suppresses your abilities while you’re holding it.” He handed it to Subversion.
  20. “Oh no…” Weaver said. He drew up his scythe, hands gripped tight.
  21. “I guess… I didn’t think about it?” He said. “It isn’t that crazy, right? I mean…” he pulled out a small sack. He opened it up, revealing the contents. “I’ve got a couple beads.”
  22. “This is your worst nightmare! If you have them! You have to understand that you have control! He doesn’t have you, not if you realize that!” Weaver yelled at her. “Do you have narcolepsy?” Weaver asked. “Tell me you don’t.” “Of course not.” Weaver said. “We’ll probably die. If not, then we can bring him back.” “That is unfortunate.”
  23. “I dunno. Alway had it I guess.” He emptied his pockets. Tons of small balls fell out. “I’ve got prismite, nullite, luxite, mordite. And an alloy of all four.”
  24. “Xiylna!” Weaver shouted. “How often do you imagine yourself as a human? How often?” “Exactly.” Weaver said. He swung his scythe at a one of the trees, which decayed, and then collapsed into dust.
  25. The Once-Author sighed, feeling useless. Dumb narration. Dumb time. He pulled out a sphere of nullite and began messing with it, because if he couldn’t be helpful he might as well be bored.
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