hadrielmods: (Default)
ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴅᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴏғ ʜᴀᴅʀɪᴇʟ ([personal profile] hadrielmods) wrote in [community profile] hadriel_logs2016-05-16 10:28 am

Event Log: Dreamwalker

Who: Everyone!
What: The Dreamwalker event
Where: In your comfy bed and your sleepy head.
When: May 16th-26th
Warnings: Good dreams, weird dreams, bad dreams, straight-up nightmares. Please remember to tag for warnings in the header if things are going to be bad!


Have you been having trouble getting a good night's sleep? Tossing and turning, unable to rest those tired eyes? Or maybe you don't sleep at all, and never have. Not to worry! For a little while, you'll have no trouble at all falling asleep - in fact, as night falls, you'll find yourself overwhelmed with exhaustion whether you want to sleep or not. Lay down and rest your weary head, friends. Everyone could use a little extra sleep.

But what will your dreams bring? Something happy, images of a perfect day? Something hopeful, something you've wanted for a long time? Maybe you'll dream of anger, of the face of your worst enemy. Or maybe - just maybe - you'll have a horrific nightmare, and wake screaming, covered in cold sweat.

Not before others have time to see it, though. As you sleep, as you dream, the other residents of Hadriel, friends and enemies and people you've only met once, might find their way into your dreams. Or you might find your way into theirs - and then have to deal with someone's else's nightmares, or hopes, or anger. For the next ten nights, you'll find yourself either a host or a visitor, and no matter how you try you won't be able to stay awake once night falls.

Sweet dreams, Hadriel. Don't let the asshole fear gods bite.


► This log covers May 16th-26th.
► Feel free to make your own logs as well!
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► You can't die in the dreams, but if you somehow manage to trip and fall and kill yourself getting out of bed, please report it on the death post.
circumitus: But I'm actually just melting. (everyone thinks i'm sleeping)

Rey

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-16 08:43 pm (UTC)(link)
[OOC: Going to make individual comments for easier tracking purposes! If you need to contact me for anything, hit me up on AIM, Plurk, or PM!
circumitus: She literally cut my boxers off with a 8" chef's knife and had her way with me. (tomorrow never knows)

OPEN

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-16 08:45 pm (UTC)(link)
I. Fear: Dreamfall

At first, it's the sound of gunfire.

Then she falls. And she is afraid, because she will fall forever. Plummeting headfirst down an indiscernible black.

You may find yourself here by chance. There is a bridge that presents itself, all the while a scar-faced woman with a bullet hole in the side of her head plunges from a skyscraper. She may pass by you, but don't worry -- she'll (somehow) come falling back down again from that empty nothingness that seems to stretch on and on into the heavens.

II. Hope: The Hotel

It's called the Dvina Hotel. Not that you can read it, unless if Russian happens to be your thing. What had once been a thriving establishment is now completely frozen over. Abandoned. There are no people, no signs of life here.

That is, save for the fireplace in the lobby, where some frozen furniture lies. A lively flame burns from the bricked hearth, offering the only warmth there is in this lonely room.

Except you're not really alone. As you approach the couch, two women lay curled up over the icy cushions, one of them holding onto the other. The redhead shivers, dead to the world in her cold sleep while the scar-faced woman brings her close. You may notice a heat radiating from her body, inviting more heat than even the fire.

"Don't wake her," the scarred woman whispers.

There is something nice about people when they sleep. She just likes them better this way.
Edited 2016-05-16 20:45 (UTC)
wormintheglass: (above all this)

[personal profile] wormintheglass 2016-05-17 03:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Bianca isn't particularly cold-sensitive even when she isn't walking through a virtual space in someone's mind, so her full-length silver fox fur is really only for effect. Still, she enjoys the effect, both the silk-lined weight on her dreaming shoulders and the imagined visual effect as she pauses in the doorway to watch the two women.

Obedient to Rey's whisper, she glides soundlessly to the couch, settling herself on Rey's other side.

"Who is she, sweet thing?"
circumitus: We know how you feel. (kid you're lost in the wheel)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-17 05:14 pm (UTC)(link)
Rey shifts over the couch. It's somehow bigger than she remembers it, allowing enough room for the third woman to seat herself.

She moves her arm, gently laying the freckled-faced ginger's head over the couch cushion. It isn't the softest surface, but she doesn't rouse from her slumber. Instead she sleeps soundly.

"Faye," Rey says, bringing her hand over the head of soft red hair. Still, the woman does not wake. When she speaks of her, there is something more human about Rey's tones than the way she normally presents herself in the waking world: "I know she'll never care about me the same way I care for her, but... I liked this. This moment."

As peculiar as Bianca's presence may be, Rey can't bring herself to question it.
wormintheglass: (dubious)

[personal profile] wormintheglass 2016-05-28 07:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Bianca doesn't exactly need the warmth, but Rey is like a living furnace - it's hard to resist snuggling closer and she doesn't even try.

"Why wouldn't she, sweet thing? Is she in the habit of throwing away wonderful opportunities?"

She says this with a sly, tilted glance upwards, and changes the subject without waiting on an answer.

"What happened to this place? Did the planet's orbit change?"
circumitus: its people like u that make people like me go to rehab. he has a lazy eye for christ sakes. (your girlfriend is a south jersey whore)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-29 07:48 pm (UTC)(link)
Able to sense the freezing climes but not be bothered by it, Rey's body heats up as Bianca moves closer towards her. A living furnace, indeed.

She starts to say something in regards to Bianca's first inquiries, but then her mouth snaps shut again and other questions are being asked. A subject matter that Rey would much rather focus on. Because there are plenty of reasons for Faye to feel the way she does, and Rey doesn't hold her in contempt for any of it. Not many third parties who only know Rey would agree, though.

"Sort of, but that's not why things are like this. This country was attacked. Those that weren't slaughtered were forced to leave," Rey explains. "This is the Dvina Hotel, in Arkhangelsk."

Russia, in other words. It's pretty damned cold.

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watashinonamaewa: (055)

I. The Longest Journey

[personal profile] watashinonamaewa 2016-05-19 06:20 pm (UTC)(link)
The shot rings in Cibo's ears as if it went off right beside her. She turns in circles searching for the source of the sound. All she hears is the high pitched noise.

She catches a glimpse of someone falling. It isn't clear who it is at first. When she looks up to see where the person fell from, she sees the building for the first time. As the woman comes falling again, she sees Rey. A rain of blood trailing just behind her. She's hurt. She's dying.

Suddenly she's on the railing of the bridge though she can't remember climbing there. She's getting ready because she has to time this just right and it isn't going to feel good. She's compelled to leap from the edge with eyes locked on Rey. Arms stretch out to grip onto any part of her that she can.

Cibo pulls her friend close to protect her from the fall. A hand putting pressure on the wound at her head at the same time.

It's all she can do as they fall together into the dark abyss.
Edited (grammar, i suck!) 2016-05-19 18:22 (UTC)
circumitus: Seriously. Its 80 proof rum that was 8 bucks for a liter. I'm afraid. (you don't want any of i have)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHFPeUPETOM

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-21 03:24 am (UTC)(link)
She can still feel it -- the bullet in her head, the pain as it pierced her skull at point blank. It should have been an instant death, but it takes a long time for that part to register. If the shot didn't kill her, she had assumed, then the fall certainly would have.

That would require her actually hitting the ground at some point. Which, for some reason, she still has not.

So when she feels something grab hold of her, her initial instinct is that this is it. The impact she's been waiting for.

Yet she continues plunging ever-downward. Her slowly functioning brain still hasn't quite made sense of the situation, too focused on the overwhelming sensation that's numbed her. And perhaps this is really it, what being dead is actually like. Just falling, repeatedly, always aware...

What--

...And that's when they begin to slow down. They're still heading into that darkness, but at least this isn't a trip she has to make alone.
circumitus: Take control of me and wipe away my fears... (i'm a broken doll; you're the puppeteer)

Fear: Closed to Firo Prochainezo

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-16 08:47 pm (UTC)(link)
Her world is a cage. There is nothing beyond these four glassy walls, with the exception of a few blurred movements from outside. Casual observers that come to watch her while she waits, but they're distorted figments, often shifting in and out of existence.

So what is she waiting for? To die, of course. Her termination papers are being finalized, she knows. They don't think she does, but she knows, and yet there's nothing she can do about it. Nothing but sit in her Glass House, on the single, neatly-made bed with the empty walls, where all of her belongings have been removed. Not that she is deserving of such things, anyway.

At first glance, it's almost impossible to recognize her. She is different now. Her long, flowing blond hair has been burned off, leaving her mostly bald. The blemishes that distinguish her identity are absent from her face.

When she opens her eyes, she catches a blurred shape on the other side of Glass House. Something that doesn't share in the warped faces of her watchers.

No, this is someone else entirely. Someone who doesn't belong...
foundafamily: (13.3)

[personal profile] foundafamily 2016-05-17 01:35 am (UTC)(link)
"The hell is this place?"

It's like nothing Firo's ever seen, even including the pictures in the memories he inherited from other alchemists. They flow to his mind more easily in dreams, but he doesn't yet realize he's dreaming. This place is strange, but there are strange places here.

Firo glimpses the shape on the other side of the glass, too, and he moves closer to get a better look at whoever it is. He gets as close as he can without quite pressing his face against the glass. That is another person, right? Thank goodness--it's creepy out here. "Who're you?"
circumitus: Seriously. Its 80 proof rum that was 8 bucks for a liter. I'm afraid. (you don't want any of i have)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-17 02:53 am (UTC)(link)
She squints, peering at the stranger behind the glass.

Slow, she rises from the flat, uncomfortable mattress. The vessel makes her way across Glass House, getting a better look at the figure on the other side of the glassy surface. This is an observer who she's never seen before, but strangely feels like she knows...

"Who are you?" she says, and then her eyes widen. She slaps her hands over her mouth, and then drags her fingers down to her throat.

She can speak? Even though they had taken her words away, she can speak. That isn't right...
foundafamily: (14.1)

[personal profile] foundafamily 2016-05-17 02:33 pm (UTC)(link)
"Firo Prochainezo." She seems unsettled somehow, but he supposes he would be too if he were in a weird box. That's why he gives her a pass for answering his question with a question. "Come on, tell me. What's your name?"

Before he even gets a response, he adds, "What's wrong?"
circumitus: I held one once. Then I washed my hands and rinsed my mouth out with wine. (babies are disgusting)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-17 05:05 pm (UTC)(link)
Somehow, she knows that name. A quiet little echo inside of her says she does. But the figure on the other side is a foreigner to her. An outsider.

"They took my voice, but now it's not..." She shakes her head, her throat scratchy and raw when she speaks. "My designation is FREYJA, but my m... my mother, she... she liked to call me Fiona."

Though she wasn't supposed to ever tell anyone that, she's telling someone now.

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It's perfect, thanks!

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eggselent. :|b

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circumitus: Captain Morgan didnt let me down when i stand up it feels like the world is trying to hand me rainbows. (i hate your face)

Rage: Closed to Nick Valentine

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-16 08:48 pm (UTC)(link)
There is something rather odd about this townhouse. Rather than a bedroom, medical equipment gather around the bed where Rey had once lay. She had been asleep for years, but now that she's awake she doesn't want to be.

Her jaw tightens as she stands by the window, overlooking the Chicago streets. The colors are off, faded, while the brightness of the sun peering through is somehow more illuminated. Black blurs move through the pathways down below, revealing themselves to be vague images of people and cars. They're all just figments, though. Fragments of a broken memory.

Rey doesn't move, not even when she senses someone else in the room with her. Someone that she should know isn't her father, and yet can't help but sense that man's presence when she tilts her head to cast a quick glance over her shoulder. What she sees is only a vague image of a person standing behind her.

"Am not sorry for your trash," she says sharply, and already there is no doubt that something is wrong with her. Not only with the way she speaks, sounding so distant and detached. Oddly enough, her face is devoid of the scars, and the back of her neck is inflamed as though a needle had been recently jammed into her spine. Her white, almost pajama-like clothes ripple as she turns to face the visitor, a darkness in her expression that ought to tell anyone to step away. To run.

And yet...
synthedick: (♣ institutionalized)

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-05-17 02:24 am (UTC)(link)
In retrospect, Nick should have known something was wrong -- not just with Rey before him now, but with the entire scenario. He'd seen Fear's announcement: from the sound of it, the god was looking to tap into the power of dreams, use them to fuel his fires. Though the pickings were plentiful, Nick had thought he might be spared, given his synthetic nature -- he didn't sleep, didn't dream. The closest thing he had were flashes from his old life, from the Institute... and from when he was Nick Valentine, a man of flesh and blood rather than metal and oil.

But as he'd gotten home from his nightly patrol and struggled to make it in the door, the feeling of losing power overwhelming him as he collapsed on the couch, he realized he should have known better.

He's not greeted with those flashes, though -- no pristine, white walls or grimy, seedy underbelly of the Commonwealth before the war. Instead, there's a window, a city, a woman. Her voice is detached, her face unmarred, but he recognizes her immediately.

"Rey?" he asks, not moving a muscle. The look on her face is hostile, not a look she'd have reserved for him. Not anymore.

This is not the Institute, nor is it a memory of his past. It has to be hers, then -- her nightmares, her dreams.
circumitus: We're listening to the crystal method and doing bong hits for jesus. (how are you texting me from 1998?)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-17 03:03 am (UTC)(link)
Indeed, it is not reserved for Nick but for another. And it is not Nick that she sees before her but that man -- the one who opened her head up, let the memories in. Forced her to remember all of those horrible things, the lives those women had lived over the course of nine decades...

"YOU SON OF A BITCH," Rey screams, as she lunges towards Nick who is, to her, wearing the guise of a much different man. One who is by far more deserving of her rage and violence.

This isn't right. It's not part of the script. Something is different. She knows this, but she can't quite bring herself to stop and contemplate it when her blood boils and she wants is to see this man dead.

In that moment, she swings her fist towards Nick's jaw without hesitation. Just raw fury.
synthedick: (♠ a clean equation)

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-05-17 08:50 am (UTC)(link)
She catches him by surprise as she lunges at him, furious and feral and looking for a fight. He tries to duck out of the way, but she's faster than his old, synthetic body -- her hand slams into his jaw, sending a shock of pain through his neck and down his spine.

He recoils, putting his left hand ahead of him defensively, his right going for his face on reflex. Though he couldn't pick up all the nuances through through the hand missing the synthetic skin, he'd be able to tell if she'd knocked something out of place easily enough. It certainly felt like she had. But it's when his hand gets to his face that he feels something else amiss -- not with Rey, but with him. There's no gaping hold in the side of his jawline, no rip in his neck, and no skeletal, metal fingers feeling either of them. He sees why as he draws his hand back and looks at it.

He has two hands: two, perfectly good hands.

He puts two and two together, realizing quickly she must not recognize him. He's in a dream, right? She wouldn't be dreaming about him. He must be someone else entirely for the reception he got.

"Rey, stop!" he tries, backing away from her, the gears in his head still turning on how to handle this incredibly strange situation he's found himself in.
Edited 2016-05-17 08:50 (UTC)

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tw: suicide mention, wup

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circumitus: Completely decimated and my hand was all bloody and covered with glass. Weird dude, never saw him again ever since. (got into a bar fight last night)

Rage: Closed to Maketh Tua (TW: Self Harm)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-16 08:49 pm (UTC)(link)
The bathroom is a box in the void. There is nothing beyond the door but a consuming blackness. Because all of her focus is in this room, in this present moment.

She stands before the mirror, blood dribbling down her face, through her fingers that hold a gored up piece of jagged glass. The same glass that she had used to slash up her own pretty face.

It was a pretty face, wasn't it? And now it's not anymore. Rather than pain or horror at what she has done to herself, her expression reveals something of a manic glee, her mouth cracking into a crooked grin as she peers at herself through the shattered shards in what remains of the mirror. She's better now. This is better. This is what they call the first step to recovery, right?

Wrong.

Either way, it makes no difference to her. She is fine with this horrid face, with these horrid scars. They're what make her. Define her, and this is who she is. Four years she had been living with a stranger, looking in that same mirror with that bitch's face looking back.

"Don't worry," she says as the intruder manifests from nothing. Her eyes widen, twisting her visage into a crazed one. "It's only skin."
mismanagement: (003)

[personal profile] mismanagement 2016-05-16 09:51 pm (UTC)(link)
The tiles are shiny smooth and cold against her feet. This is the first thing that Maketh notices. The second is that she's not wearing any shoes. The rest of her uniform is there, everything in its place. Just not her boots.

That's a strange omission.

Maketh steps carefully over broken glass, reaching out to grab for Rey's hands. "Rey, stop. Give me that."
circumitus: 10 stitches. scar on forehead. totally going tell ppl my parents died fighting Voldemort. (fell off bed. face first.)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-17 02:48 am (UTC)(link)
Already something doesn't seem to be right about this picture. Rey doesn't know this woman, yet -- she does. This isn't how it's supposed to go... This isn't how any of this is supposed to go.

You're not my father, comes the disembodied words in the room. Rey's mouth doesn't move, but her voice somehow speaks: What are you doing here?

The Rey standing before Maketh flinches, swiftly releasing her grip of the shard before the other woman can seize her. The glass snaps over the tiled floor at their bare feet, as Rey's hand swings up over her face. Blood oozes from her facial wounds, dribbling down her chin into thick rivulets.

Get out. You're not supposed to be in here!
mismanagement: (004)

[personal profile] mismanagement 2016-05-17 02:51 am (UTC)(link)
Maketh spins with a hissed curse, catching her foot on discarded glass. There's no one else in the room, she can count all four walls, and yet --

(get out!)

"Why should I?" Maketh demands, turning again to face Rey - or this woman with Rey's face. "Rey...let me see. Those are deep."

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circumitus: ...'cause my cocaine successfully went through airport security. (doing a small happy dance)

Delight: Closed to Kate Galloway

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-16 08:50 pm (UTC)(link)
Bright reds adorn what appears to be a Chinese restaurant, introducing a warmth that can be found from the icy winter storm. It's snowing outside; the Chicago streets are bustling with citizens hurrying to escape the below freezing temperatures. And who can blame them?

That isn't a concern now, not here. No, this is a place that is free from concerns. Even though something doesn't seem right about this scene, there are no worries that plague the air. Not from the illegible signs or the blurred faces of the people seated in nearby booths.

Because they're not what matters right now.

In a solitary table in the far corner of the restaurant, Rey can be found sitting with an unfamiliar man on the other side. Though unfamiliar, he does seem to share similar traits to Rey, with sharp features and pale green eyes. His ash brown hair is a different look, though.

It is a rare moment, but Rey seems to be content, as the waitress comes by with a tray of dim sum.

Feel free to join them, if you'd like.
dedikated: (12 | ᴀ ʜᴏʟᴇ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏɢɪᴄ)

yo

[personal profile] dedikated 2016-05-16 09:09 pm (UTC)(link)
It's so busy here, but in the good way a nice restaurant should be - with buzzing chatter she can't make out, a din in her ears. Kate brushes her hair behind her ears, seeks a place to sit among all the people.

Then she sees-- someone, vaguely familiar, like she's seen her around before. Maybe in town. Sat with another person who, as Kate gets closer, shares some of the woman's looks. Like relatives, almost.

She stops at the table in the corner, which almost seems to be vibrant, more focused than the rest of the place - like she's supposed to sit here instead of anywhere else - and clears her throat.

"Can I--?" She gestures to a space next to them.
circumitus: tall, lanky, uses teeth when giving head, and runs like a giraffe. don't do it, man... (no i know her type)

eyy

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-17 02:38 am (UTC)(link)
Even though the restaurant is bustling, Rey casts a wary look at the traveler. It's rush hour during lunchtime, so it's hardly an odd thing for customers to share booths with strangers. Still...

"No, that's--"

"Yes, please! By all means," says the man sitting across from Rey.

There is something more amiable about him than his sister. A genuine brightness to his shit-eating grin, while she suddenly wears an unsmiling expression. He's even friendlier when he shifts in his seat to offer a place for Kate to sit beside him. Not because he's planning anything untowards; there is nothing about the air around him that would suggest that. So it's relatively safe.
Edited 2016-05-17 02:39 (UTC)
dedikated: (4 | ɪᴛ's ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴀᴛᴇ)

[personal profile] dedikated 2016-05-17 01:24 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, alright then. She nods her - greeting? Thanks? - at both of them and slides into the seat next to the man. A waiter presents another menu to Kate and she takes it, leafing through the pages for something that catches her eye.

"Don't mind me," she adds, glancing up at the familiar woman over her menu.

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