This is a roleplay event for 2 characters

A cry of profound distress splits the night. A door is slammed. The thud of running footsteps echoes down the hallway.

What are you doing?

Hoping that the cry had not come from as close as he thought it might, Geoffrey moved to make sure that his family was safe. He was in his bed clothes but carried an axe with him, rather than a sword, in case there was trouble.

Llwelyn peeks out at the sound, sore from the events today but too curious at the sound of things running around.

The guards from the end of the hallway seem to have gathered around the closed door leading into William Longchamp's room. The Chancellor of the Duchy of Aquitaine seems to have been having some trouble. You can hear the sound of moaning from behind the thick door.

Prince John is coming down the hallway from the direction of the Royal Apartments, also apparently keen on investigating.

The guards have begun to pound on Longchamp's door.

"Chancellor! Is everything alright in there??" one of them calls out.

"Please respond Chancellor, we need to know you're alright!" Geoffrey shouts from behind the guards once he gets near.

He uses a language that might be more familiar to invite a response. He knew that he tended to respond quicker to calls in his native tongue.

The moaning is punctuated by a shriek of pure terror, the sort that is difficult to live down.

The guards flinch backwards from the door and look at Geoffrey for some sort of direction.

"Do we...do we go in, sir?"

"Oh God's Blood" Llwelyn curses in Welsh under his breath.

"Well, are you going to help him or not? " He asks the guards?

He doesn't wait for the guards, moving to open the door. And if it's locked, moves to kick it open..

A firm kick later and the crew outside is inside, revealing William Longchamp, rising suddenly to an upright position in bed, pale as a sheet and sweating a small river.

"Wha--?" he frets, hands reaching out to pat at the blankets. "Where?"

"Are you alright Chancellor?" Geoffrey says as he approaches, but keeping his distance. Apparently the man had been screaming loudly in his sleep if what he was seeing was an indication of reality.

He waves the guards to stay near the door to try and prevent further embarrassment that this incident might cause.

"I...I am not sure." He is panting, and his nightclothes and the bedsheets are soaked with his sweat. "I...I thank God that I am alive, but...what a strange and terrible dream! So real!"

With confirmation that it was a dream, Geoffrey lets the guards know they can step outside. He then peeks around the room looking for a cups wine so he can pour a bit for the Chancellor.

"You gave us a fright, chancellor. You were shouting in terror in your sleep. We'll can come up with some explanation for others, though."

"It was vivid then? Anything of concern?"

From his position in the doorway, Prince John listens with arms folded and eyes wide.

Geoffrey was not the superstitious sort. Perhaps one day he would look back on today and wonder, but for today crazy dreams are just that.

But he was also not one to downplay the concerns of others. His tone was calm and voice was soft.

"Take care and calm down. Things are fine Chancellor. You are in your room in Westminster, but nothing is going mad as all that. Perhaps anxiety or stress is giving bad dreams?"

Llwelyn quietly starts too look around, inspecting the curtains and tapestries.

The draperies are tasteful, but done in the French style. Very few embroidered animals are on display, and certainly no polecats or sheep. Geometric patterns, mostly. Well-made. Actually, these could probably fetch a pretty penny in the London markets.

"Should we call for a doctor or a priest?
To provide more expert knowledge?" Geoffrey asks, curious if the man would be interested in either option.

Nodding, he moves to the guards and sends one for a priest to join them.

Satisfied that there is no interrupted assassin lurk, Llywelyn returns to the bed to the hear about this dream.

The arrival of an ordained monk heralded a second telling of the tale. The monk listened intently for a time.

"That's a dark one, and no mistake," he says. "And of the sort that could be portentious." He says some prayers over Longchamp for a moment, then offers a bit of analysis. "Animals consuming each other---endless night---the sun a-heading east could well be a gesture to the crusade. Not sure what to make of lilies dying in Durazzo. I'm sure the animals all stand for things as well, but...hard to figure what exactly."

"It's certainly an odd set of creatures doing very odd things. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me," Geoffrey says.

The monk sighs. "Well, all I can say is that I don't believe this is the last we'll hear of this. The dreams men have are sometimes fantasy, but every so often they are deadly serious. This one...is too strange to be anything but the latter."