Event Log: Dreamwalker the Second

[hadrielmods]

Who: All characters participating in the event
What: The event log for the Dreamwalker part 2 event
Where: In your dreams
When: October 14th-20th (the second log will go up on Oct 23rd, please keep the two weeks of the event separate!)
Warnings: All different kinds of dreams falling under the umbrella of Delight, Rage, Sorrow, and Hope.

This time, the weird stuff doesn't happen when you're awake- as a matter of fact, your waking hours are the normal ones. That's because you're forced to sleep by some unknown entity, getting more and more exhausted by the moment as night falls. Better make sure you're always around a soft pillow.

Once asleep, it doesn't get any less weird- your dreams will be influenced by one of the four gods that make up the first week. Something to make you smile, something to make you angry- or something that reminds you of your deepest regret or most vulnerable hope, they're all things that you're dreaming about now for some reason, no matter how hard you may try to pull away from them.

To make matters more complicated, there are others intruding on your dreams who definitely don't belong there, and while they may seem like manifestations at first, it becomes clear that these others are actually the consciousness of other members of Hadriel, getting some top quality exposure to your angriest, happiest, most sorrowful moments. Hope it doesn't get awkward when you see them tomorrow...

► This log covers October 14th-20th.
► 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!
► If you die in dreams you don't die in real life, but if you somehow die in real life anyway, please let us know here.

Comments

[hardwearing]

[ The light flares, flashes, and then the figure wreathed in flame is gone from the scene. The whispers stop. Everything is still and quiet and the white-armored soldier drops Wash, staggering back before falling to the ground. Wash rushes to his side and pulls off the other man's helmet, revealing a strong-featured man with a shaved head and tattoos on his skull, heavy scarring on his throat. ]

Maine? Maine!

[hardwearing]

[ It sounds pretty bad, but Wash just smiles. ]

I'll take it.

[evocation]

Cool. And, uh... Seriously, thanks. For trying to help and everything, I mean.

[hardwearing]

I know it was just a dream, but I'm sorry I couldn't save him.

[evocation]

[She shakes her head.]

He did that shit to himself.

[Kyna hesitates for a moment, reaching for her necklace with her free hand.]

And you don't have to... Ugh, God, this is going to make me sound like an asshole, but I didn't see my dad for like, fifteen years, and then he showed up and that shit happened, so...

[She's trying to figure out how to make the point she's trying to get across, but she falters again.]

I barely even knew him. That's why I didn't know what to say. So I'm not... beside myself. I guess.

[It's just that, close or not, it's hard to get those images out of her mind.]

[hardwearing]

Your father showed up after fifteen years to kill himself in your kitchen?

[ That's gonna require a little explanation, Kyna. ]

[evocation]

Uh... No. Not exactly.

[This is the hard part, but he's been open with her, so she takes a deep breath and tries to muddle through it.]

He was always an asshole. He was super obsessed with magic, and he dipped on us when I was like... ten or something. Hunting down enchanted objects or whatever. So I never saw him, and then my team got sent to pick up a bunch of magical weapons from this bullshit cave system, and he popped up. And he was...

[She frowns.]

It's kind of a long and depressing story. Are you sure you wanna sit through the whole thing?

[hardwearing]

[ Wash shifts a little, setting his bowl on the coffee table and settling back into the couch cushions. She's still got hold of his arm and he reaches over with his free hand, settling it on top of hers. ]

My schedule's clear.

[evocation]

[Kyna glances down at their hands, biting her lip for a moment. Okay, whatever. Who cares. It's easier to get pissed about this whole thing and power through it, so that's what she tries to do.]

So, uh... He tried following us, right? Tried lying and said it was because of me or something. But he was hiding this book on him, and Tucker pickpocketed him to grab it, and it was... Bad. Like, super dangerous magic, possessed by a demon and everything. Tucker touched it for two seconds and it fucked him up pretty seriously. My dad's didn't always look like that, it was like... the thing was draining him or something. Whatever. I bet he found that stupid book and made a deal with whatever the hell was inside of it.

[Take a breath, Kyna. She's starting to sound more than a little heated.]

So he was there for the weapons, like I thought, and we got to the last one at the same time he did and it was just... A total shitshow. We got the demon out of him and killed it, but his magic was gone. I took him back to my apartment and left him alone for two fucking seconds to call my brother, and that's what he did.

[And then, as if realizing she's essentially just gone on a rant while barely taking a breath, she flushes.]

Um. Sorry. That's it.

I've decided to put a robot in egypt. good luck.

[mttbrandlegs]

[Being a prisoner is nothing new to Mettaton. And as long as they respect the single article of cloth swathed around his neck and shoulders, he will not show them how very foolish it was to try and restrain him. Not that he really wants to.

But if he has to...then he will. Because he can, right?

Every part of him screams in a fight response, but Mettaton's not consumed by his own LOVE yet. He's still...himself.

As such, he allows the humans to shove him, with little more than a scowl. Of course...they would disdain that which does not follow the norm, right? No, maybe that's not it. Judging from the look of this place, they're an old-fashioned bunch, and he can't blame them for their lack of trust. Furthermore, he could hardly say anything negative about their sense of style--the kid on the throne is sporting a pretty good look. Mettaton might have killed for such glitz and glam if he still had it in him to value such things.

Which, well...he does, but it's not as important as it used to be.]

Prisoner...how quaint. I'm fairly certain I've done nothing to deserve such.

[That's all he has to say about it.]

[hardwearing]

...okay, so. He really did bring it on himself.

[ Wash processes that, comes out the other side thinking it's probably better for everyone, including Kyna's father, that he's gone. He doesn't say it. Just squeezes her hand a little. ]

I'm sorry you went through that.

[evocation]

[Kyna lets out a breath and squeezes back.]

Thanks. I mean it's... whatever, you know?

[hardwearing]

[ It's not whatever -- if she's dreaming about it she's still affected, still bothered by what happened. But Wash will let her brush it off now, if that's what she needs. ]

What happened to the book?

[evocation]

Harlan destroyed it. At least no one else will screw with it. But, uh... My dream was pretty close to what actually happen. I wonder why yours and Sharkface's weren't.

[so_dark_a_road]

Someone else steps into that courtyard of the fortress built on the summit of Amon Ereb. His step is oh-so-silent, and he casts no shadow even in the brilliant light of the new star. His face is lined with sorrow and marked by all the years of rage and desire, hope and fear, but most of all, by love.

Yes, he is free of the Oath, but only because he exerted all his considerable strength of heart and will during the last hours of his life -- and he went to his brothers, crawling on hands and knees, leaving a trail of gore behind him. He feared he was damning himself to eternal darkness, but he made that choice anyway. He believed the Silmaril was only steps away from him, probably hung on a chain around Dior's neck under his armor. And Dior lay dead, defeated by the combined efforts of Celegorm, Caranthir, and Curufin. But his two older brothers lay unconscious or dead already, whereas Curufin still lived, although his injuries were mortal and he knew it.

When he lay down between the other two, taking their hands and allowing his anguished eyes to close, he was aware he would never rise again. He now has only intermittent memories of his other brothers arriving, bringing torches, trying to get him to speak -- which he could no longer do by that time. Nor could he call out to them in mindspeech. He thought of his son as well -- had never in fact forgotten him -- but if he was too weak to respond to his relatives who were right there with him, he was certainly too weak to reach out across the hundreds of intervening miles to Nargothrond or wherever Celebrimbor was by then, to let him know his name was on his father's lips when he breathed his last.

But now, Curufin has come, wafting on the chill wind of this season, all those many leagues to the last refuge of the Fëanorions, drawn by the love he can once again feel, now that he has broken out of the frozen state in which he was trapped by the Oath for so many years.

He comes near to Maglor, but he does not speak. It is partly for pity, and partly for shame. Still, his spirit is nearly pure longing, and Maglor may be able to feel his lost brother's Song.

[hardwearing]

I couldn't tell you. But ours did have something in common -- someone dead survived.

That's gotta mean something.

[evocation]

Well, the gods usually run this shit, right? Maybe it was Love or Hope or something.

[hardwearing]

Maybe.

I don't... like that they were in my head.

[ It's a dramatic understatement. Wash has extreme issues with anything, at all, being in his head. ]

Kinda don't let anyone in there anymore.

[evocation]

[She sure has a track record of stumbling on secrets through magic and stuff like this, doesn't she? Yikes.]

Anymore? What do you mean?

[hardwearing]

...I had an AI too. Briefly.

[evocation]

Oh, right. What did your AI do?

[hardwearing]

[ He thought he could talk about this.

Hell, he lives with Epsilon now, has come to trust him. See him as something of a friend, despite their baggage. But actually going back, thinking about what happened after his implantation... Wash shuts down a little, jaw working. ]

He killed himself in my head.

[evocation]

[Their hands are still tangled together, and she squeezes again instinctively.]

We don't have to talk about it.

[so_dark_a_road]

[ The guards drag in a tall Elf of the Noldorin clan. He's been practicing banditry in order to survive, not to mention a stint of sorcery, here or there. How he got to this world is anybody's guess, but here he is, and he's his worst self. His face is full of rage and hatred, albeit there's a little humor there too. A savage kind of humor. ]

Who the fuck are YOU? [ Dark gray eyes now almost obsidian-black, blazing with contempt. ]

[hardwearing]

It's fine. It's important.

[ She needs some background, though, so Wash tries to explain. ]

A full AI is basically a person's psyche, as a computer program. The Project only had permission to create one, but the Director wanted lots. So he came up with a way to break the Alpha apart. They tortured it, ran it through simulations designed to create enough stress for the personality to fragment. That's why every AI was just one aspect of a person.

Epsilon was the last piece they broke off. The Alpha couldn't take any more. It fragmented its memories of the torture to save itself, like any trauma victim.

They knew what they were putting in my head. The placement was curated -- Delta for York, Theta for North, Sigma was originally for Carolina. I don't know if they thought I could handle it, or just wanted to see if I'd break, too, but Epsilon was assigned to me.