Introduction.

Keeper.

My uncle was the boatman on the river Styx- it was his clammy influence that brought me to my current circumstances. No Wrathling Child can hear such beautiful tales of triumph and woe such as those my uncle brought home to me by the heaping earful, and not wish to find ones of her own. I was raised by tales of dead heroes, pursuing their heroines; of kings whose legacy had been taken, at the gasping of dawn, by a peasant with a oversharpened letter opener.

But I believe I've been rude, having now so launched into my own history without allowing a single glimpse to my present.
Hello.
I am responsible for letting people know about you once you've crossed the river in my uncle's once-boat.
Keeper is my name is my occupation is my burden is my song is my name...
and I do believe that it has cost me my sanity.
It is my responsibility to collect dreams, nightmares, memories, and all else that spews from the lips and memories of the dying, as a wish that they shall not be forgotten.
Within each gathered dream is held the dreamer's world; within each world, the dreamer's life before it was taken by circumstances introduced by man, beast, or god.
The mortal and immortal mind is a large, lofty place, and, as I was raised to believe, capable of holding three of such worlds.
I am currently in possession of nineteen.
Therefore, it appears some of my wits and sanity have been sacrificed to make room for the worlds I have been charged to keep. Your beautiful dreams have driven my own out of my ears and onto the breath of the wind, lovelies.
Keeper is my life is my love is my eternity is my never is my salvation.

And I do hope you enjoy your glimpses of my kept worlds.