She's not an expert, she doesn't really know any of this, but she thinks they're here to help take back some of the land that has been lost to the Cwyld. That's what she hopes, anyway. Traveling would be nice, you know? She hates ships. But that's all her own personal thoughts, and she's probably off the mark on some of it.

She's happy to ask the young Dreamer if he'll meet with Eren, and she passes on a positive reply. "Three days hence will be the right time," he had told her, and that's what she tells Eren, giving him a time and a place.

Three days later, the place turns out to be a private room downstairs from the observatory, charmed to be bigger on the inside, simply decorated with pastel colors, massive pillows on the floor, and tapestries of the night sky hung on the walls. The Dreamer is a young man named Ishmael, in his twenties maybe, but his hair has gone stark white - as have his eyes, his irises are pale and milky, but not sightless. He never quite makes eye contact, always seeming to be looking through Eren, but he's pleasant enough, inviting him into the chamber in a very quiet, whispery voice.

Aerianna said he had questions? He'll answer what he can, and... perhaps they might find other answers together, if Eren's willing to leave his body for a bit. If he has the time to spare.

Ishmael retrieves a small velvet-lined box before he joins Eren on the floor, on a particularly well-loved cushion. Should he sleep? If he'd like, but one cannot always force the Dreaming, so he would appreciate it very much if Eren would stay awake just long enough to have one of these - opening the box, it contains two small, lavender-capped mushrooms, the shapes of which are nearly perfect, like an illustration. Faecap, he explains. These used to be all over the Wilde, in great rings tended by the Fae. Now they're very rare, the Coven has to outsource them for this purpose.

He eats one of them with no change to his expression. The scent is very strongly floral, but the taste is very bitter. These will help to ensure they share a Dream, and will provide extra clarity within to direct the flow of thought. Ishmael seems as serene as ever, but admits that now he is quite excited to find Eren's green lady.

Imagine her, Ishmael says. You will have to direct it. Sleep will become harder to ignore if he eats the Faecap, but will allow them both to enter a shared Dream, fields of white, until Eren puts his mind to a place and a time. On the Faecap, he'll find that he has a bit more control over the dream than usual, as if things are a little sharper.

In the Wilde, Ishmael replies somewhat smartly in that whispering tone of his, though it feels more mindful than spoken. He's far more aware of himself and his place here than Eren is and it shows, but he keeps from stirring the dream with gentle sweeps forward as they walk the summery green, and he doesn't seem surprised at Eren's transformation either; ultimately, what leads one in a dream is their hearts' desire, and that has been the truth for as long as Dreamers have dreamt. What comes with that is what is studied, particularly in seeking information, though he doesn't give much more than that.

The path seems long, but it's about as long as the one Eren and Darrus walked just before; it's the same, if more beautiful, life-filled in flora and fauna alike as small creatures flit at the peripherals of their vision. Their focus is his green lady, nothing else, and so they're more or less a blur.

And in the clearing, where the unusual stone rested, is the strong scent of pine, the glitter of emerald scales, keen golden eyes already turned their way. The dragon is just as large as the boulder had been, and reflects nothing of its current state: there is no Cwyld, there is no petrification in progress, and she is most certainly awake.

Ishmael hums in interest, but seems content to be a standby and allow Eren his time. He is just a guide and observer, after all.

"Who art thou," the dragon's voice rumbles through the air, strong and guarded, "and what is thine purpose unto this place?"

Wise boy. She dips her head slightly in acknowledgement, and speaks again. "I am Créia. What dost thou wish to speak about, dragonling? Thou hath the look of desperation about thineself, and it begets mine own concern."

*Cré as in kray, ia as the end of gaia.

Her gaze remains even, then it settles aside at their third for a moment before returning to Eren. "I do. I remember that, and every dream which hath crossed thy slumbering mind. Tis a foolish, wayward fantasy, yet remains that which is mine own to see done. Then, thou art from a time betwix? Neither the moment mine eyes fell, nor the moment mine eyes open?"

"It is." Being aware enough of it seems to surprise Ishmael, who hums in interest again. "Tis protection granted to I and mine own, to ensure that all is not lost. That a future can be protected, distant as it could be, but I confess t'was not mine desire to leave that which I hath called home."

She stands, towering high against the canopy of the surrounding forest, and swishes her tail as she turns.

"Come. I will show thou what must be done, for thou has come to wake me, hath thou not?"

There's this gut feeling that comes with it, that it isn't going to be anything easy, but she's eager now that she's been found; Ishmael, for his part, reaches out to touch Eren's arm, and mentions that staying too long would risk them never leaving. As fair warning.

The noise she makes is one of possible agreement, and her gait is surprisingly fast as she treads along the forest, through the lushness of this Wilde and on a path well-walked. Dreams, as they often do, folds time within itself, and despite the distance they might've walked it's as if none has passed at all, no fatigue nor sense of steps taken, and before them is a tree grander than all the rest.

It stands tall with scarred bark, with evidence of ages past in the knots and healed burns, dark wood branching off into pine-scented leaves, though they're clearly not needles. Créia slows as she reaches the trunk, half as wide as she is, and presses her claws against the bark.

"... This tree," she says, "hath an ill feeling about it in thy waking world. Mine brethren of sky and sea have treasures of their own, but thou see here that which holds mine own soul; find a way to free it of this curse and thou wilt free myself as well. Find mine brethren and see to them as well, and thou wilt be one step closer to the safety of thy world."

Threes, as ever. Ishmael studies the tree, and mentions that there's a large sort mentioned in song and tale, south of their northern most sister city, though obviously he can't say for certain one way or another if it's the same. The trees are always bigger where the leylines pool.

She considers the question, watching the tree before turning to Eren again.

"Yes," she replies. "Yes, it is mine belief that it would."

Ishmael, having somewhat enjoyed the trip here, asks Eren if he had anything else to ask, or if he would be satisfied for now; since they have her signature, as it were, they would be able to more easily find her the next, and so this wouldn't have to be the last they spoke.

Once done is done, Ishmael returns them with a quick step back to the area they'd first come into, before they'd met the guardian, and ask if Eren learned what he'd wanted to from the dreamwalking.

This'll be shortly before they Wake from the shrooms effects, and he'll be given a drink to clear the rest of the magic from his system so he isn't wandering on his own later that night.