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

[prophesiedone]

Any softness on his features flees the moment the guard appears. A dark smile follows the announcement and he ushers Padmé, Leia and Luke into an adjoining room. No, he trusts no one around his greatest treasures. Everyone is watched. Everyone is monitored.

"Let him in."

A Dark Jedi, hm? Well they should get along great.

"Curufin, it has been a long time. What brings you to see me?"

[so_dark_a_road]

Strange and lovely, how alike father and son look at this moment, save for the darkness of Curufin's armor and the brightness of Celebrimbor's. There is something mythic about them, the father who espoused the darkness in his time and the son who belonged always to the light. And now they are together, and here they stand with their steeds in a moment of accord before the great battle.

"I will, my dear yondo. And you as well, strike with all of your heart and all of your power. We will prevail."

And into the fray they charge.

Curufin knows that his son must confront the Maia face to face, and be the death of him. It will be justice, and for this Curufin has planned and poured out his energies, and now it will come to pass. He rides swift and adroit by his son's side, and he guards him from all harm. No Orc or any other creature of darkness can get close to the shining figure who goes like an arrow from the string, a shot from the cannon -- straight to the cause of all the evil in Middle-earth. Curufin strikes down anyone who opposes this ride, and his black armor is splashed with gore. His face is luminous with love and with joy.

[handofsilver]

His eyes close and he smiles, tucking his father's words into his heart, letting them strengthen his fëa. He reaches out and squeezes Curufin's hand, bowing his head so that all can see who has his love and his loyalty.

"I fear no one as long as I have you." for they are two sides of the same coin, are they not? The sword that will pierce the heart of Sauron and his minions will be composed of both their natures. It cannot fail.

The charge fills him with adrenaline and his mare stays true to her path, trampling Orcs beneath her feet. She works in perfect unison with Curufin's steed and Celebrimbor praises her as his sword lashes out here and there to catch any remaining enemies that stand before them. But his father is doing most of the work and Celebrimbor sets his sights on Sauron - a looming figure in dramatic armor.

Let it be done.

His mare quickens her pace, veering to the left, making it appear as if her rider is focused on a target beside the Maia. Yet a split second later, the young Elf lashes out, his sword breaking through the armor at Sauron's shoulder. He leaps from his horse - she knows how to protect herself, kicking and biting at her foes - and unsheathes another sword.

Now he faces their Enemy with two blades that can obviously cut deep.

[mttbrandlegs]

[What indeed...

Mettaton glares down at the human version of Napstablook, his fingers curling so hard that his nails were digging past his gloves and into the clothing.]

Don't be sorry. Defend yourself. Make it interesting.

[As always, the robot had standards for how he killed. He wasn't going to just snap this fool's neck and be done with it. After what felt like ages, he had to be more creative than that.

Those tears...they were starting to bother him too.]

[stonebird]

(A tall redhead will be standing by Maketh, watching the destruction in pale horror. She has never seen destruction on this level and she fights for the right words.)

This is a good idea? (This makes Maketh proud?) There are families down there! People...

What did they do to deserve complete annihilation?

[mttbrandlegs]

Would you have chosen death?

[Mettaton glares up at the boy king, perhaps passing some judgment of his own. He wants to know, perhaps for his own personal feelings. Would this young man have killed to save himself? Has he killed to save himself?

Is he...right to be judged for being possessed and forced to commit atrocities?

He'd never ask that much. All he needs to know is whether the pharaoh would have died for his morals.]

[soundtest]

[The tears don't stop, of course. They can hardly see Mettaton's face through them.

Defend yourself. Make it interesting.

If this were like before, maybe Napstablook could treat it like one of the skits they used to do. Just them and Mettaton, acting out one of Mettaton's many ideas for shows and musical numbers that he "was sure humans would love".

But this isn't the same, and they squirm as metal nails dig into their clothes.]

mettaton please
don't do this
i don't want to die

[Then the answer of how to prevent that should be obvious, right?]

[demonsional]

[Hayden has no idea who this person is, but that's okay, because he's probably part of the dream! It makes sense just to go with it. And he likes what is being said, so he gives Merle a big, big smile and laughs.]

You'd really do that? Wow! But I don't want to get you in trouble, either.

[bythewaves]

[ Maglor frowns, confused ]

No I was....wasn't I? But....no, I ...arrived......too late. Oh Fingon!

[bythewaves]

"You did your best. Nelyo was never the same after."

The twins turn to walk away, growing older and apart as they do.

"Neither was I but...morning did come, in the end."

[bythewaves]

"Sansa?"

He blinks at her confusedly but his smile is welcoming. Around them the dream wavers, caught between worlds.

"What are you doing here?

[bythewaves]

"Ambidextrous means you can use both hands, not your mouth and your hands!" Maglor rolls his eyes as he demonstrates his own preference for dual wielding absently on their foes.

"What?" He blinks, faltering. "That...didn't..."

Re: Rage

[bythewaves]

A voice in her ear, coaching.

"Watch their eyes, not their hands. You are faster. Stay low. Control your rage - do not let it control you."

Re: Tranquility

[bythewaves]

"I should hope so, Teylko! I think we would all worry if he looked like you"

[blessedmaiden]

Rydia grins imitating the other woman's movements and shaking her hips in return


Rydia's eyes sparkle at Aren's reply- another culture that embraces fights as entertainment? "You fight as well? You- you have to tell me everything about Orzammar because that may be something we have in common! I want to learn about this Proving of yours and hear your story whenever you'll have time!" it won't probably have the same form and meaning of battles that take place in the Feymarch but she doesn't mind. And Rydia has been trapped in the Feymarch for so long any information of the world outside is welcome. "Mh, well... it really depends." Summoners challenging eidolons is certainly the deadliest of all things but she doesn't feel to share about it "most of the times it's just two creatures fighting together to break the boredom while the others can enjoy the show, some other times they do hold small tournaments of strenght since this is a culture that really values proving your worth. in case some have real advantages over others, like a water monster against a fire one, more rules can be applied to make challenges more fair. We're also family so no one is allowed to kill another member of the community."

[puzzlingly]

「Atem freezes before actually reaching his throne.

Something about that question seems to change the mood of this dream. The priests' faces seem to blur, and some of the guards seem to simply banish, as if he were losing focus, or directing it somewhere else. The throne room itself seems to lose its overwhelming bright, but not its grandiose feeling, it grows darker, it seems gloomier.

Like a tomb.

The young Pharaoh turns back slowly, a different fire reflecting in his eyes. 」

Yes!

「Small as he is, there is certainly something frightening about that anger, that conviction. Because, he didn't, did he? No. He instead had been chosen to pass judgment on others, to decide who lived and who died, because he had been born a god.

And he hated it.

This is no longer the memories of the dream playing out, it is him, the anger he felt for having been chosen for something he did not believe it. Who the hell was he to decide on people's lives?! He was no better than others, he bleed the same, he hurt the same! But it had been written, it had been his destiny to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.」

[wantsnudes]

If I could leave, believe me, I would. But I have nowhere to run away to. Even if I did, Sensei would destroy my art career in an instant... He has too much influence.

[Finally, he looks around and spots Adam. There's something jarring about seeing a total stranger here, but Yusuke hasn't quite figured out this is a dream yet.]

Who are you? Are you here to help me?

[notimpervious]

Rydia's happiness is infectious, making Brennan ignore the fact that she does not know what an eidolon is. It is irrelevant. All that matters is they are happy.

"Oh, of course. We typically gather around food and drink. The point is to share what we have, and to enjoy everyone's company. Some of it has its origins in religious practices involving honoring gods, but it is much more secular now."

It seems so quiet compared to all of this, but it means a lot to Brennan anyway.

[paragonbrosca]

"Yeah, that makes sense. I've seen rules where it's fighting until first blood, or until someone yields, that's also fine with me. The Provings aren't about killing, either, it's just until someone's unconscious." She only participated the one time, but that seemed to be how it worked, to her. "And then whoever wins gains more glory for their house and caste. Do you have that stuff, too?"

Dwarves are so good at separating themselves like that, so it seems even easier in a place where creatures are all so different from each other. And yet, as Aren looks around she doesn't see any notable divisions. Everyone's just having a good time with everyone else.

[paragonbrosca]

Lifting her head, Aren raises her eyebrows upon realizing they aren't alone, but she's mellow enough where that's a non-issue. Glancing at the lone adult mabari, she grins. "What do you say, Barkspawn? Do you want to show off your babies?"

Barkspawn is true to his name, barking happily and running around in a little circle. Yes, more people! A couple of the squeaking puppies waddle around after they've tumbled off the dwarven woman, in Sansa's general direction.

[paragonbrosca]

"'He'...right, okay." Yeah, Aren doesn't get it, but something tells her that continuing to ask will just make her more confused. The scene shifts slightly; their surroundings remain, as do the people, but now Anora and Alistair stand together, while Loghain's body is sprawled on the ground. He's been relieved of his head.

"I wanted a chance to save Duncan and Cailan, but I can't even have that." Hmph. She lightly kicks the body with a booted foot, knowing it's petty but not exactly caring. "At least I'm still breathing and he's not, but...fuck it, it's not fair to show me that if I couldn't do anything."

[hotspurred]

A truly kingly appetite. Henry's certainly impressed by how much Saber can put away. You would not think it to look at her, but then again, perhaps that is how she fuels her monstrous strength.

Her sovereign's tone naturally commands his full attention, and he pauses eating to listen.

He exhales half an incredulous scoff, the noise silenced before it is fully formed as he immediately reconsiders.

Almost two years of daily longing is a potent decision-maker.

And is not every slither of morale they hold a victory against their captors? So perhaps undertaking such a quest is not quite so absurd after all.

"We shall know not defeat, my lord," Henry vows, the weight of her tone demanding that he answer as a knight. "For too long has worthy food been confined to our dreams."

[trashmouths]

Yeah, I'm gonna be a ventriloquist. And a DJ. and a stand-up Comedian. [ He's doing it again, pushing, not believing--it has nothing to do with the other being a girl, though, and everything to do with the fact that it's just how Richie is, how he'll just keep pushing no matter what.

The truth is he's a little jealous. Seeing someone that dead set on something, that sure when they're only a few years older reminds him of how precarious his own life is probably going to be.

But he's got his friends. He's got the Loser's Club. He'll be alright, there's a scar on his palm from a coke bottle shard and a blood oath that promises he will be. Which lets his thoughts circle to his next point: he shrugs, loose-limbed, and adjusts his glasses. ]

Not ditch. Ignore. I'm a lucky one; some kick the shit outta their kids, some mess with their heads--but no matter what not a single one is going to believe you or intervene when someone's in danger. They never do. What I'm saying is that it's totally not so bad. If you wanna be a huge fucking nerd and study so hard your tits fall off you can, now, and you no one's gonna stop you.

[ He has to do something. He has to say something. He's sounding like Eddie. Get ready for a horrible, horrible mexican accent Richie has named his Pancho Vanilla voice: ]

Si, si, if you wanna drink the worm in the tequila, now's your chance, senorita!

hey i'm ready to die i mean uh. cry.

[nonscriptum]

[Nate doesn't mean to wander, but Jesus Christ, if this event thing wasn't so intent on putting him under like two whole bottles of raki with a vengeance, he'd have more say in the matter.

He ends up on a beach.

Boots sinking into the soft sand and the quiet sound of the surf lapping against the shore, blessed heat from the sun, palm trees, a house. It feels familiar and not, like it's something he might have dreamed up in his spare time as the ideal arrangement - it's not that he doesn't like New Orleans, but living on water that isn't brackish or questionably sanitary doesn't appeal as much as this.]

Whoa.

[Nate follows a well-worn path in the sparse grass at the edge of a low dune to the stairs of a wide porch, comfortable and expansive, and turns before setting a foot on the first step at the sound of Elena's voice.

She's sitting on a blanket, painfully beautiful in the sunlight, grinning at something she's just placed at her side.]

...Honey?

[stealer_ofsouls]

"Then take your false sympathies elsewhere; feed them to someone who will find sustenance in your lies."

The words are harsh, barbed at the edges with the force of the Thief's rage. It's a rage that has sustained him for a long time, a rage that flares white hot under the influence of this strange place, influenced by Demons of which he knows nothing, by days spent running and fighting in a network of twisting, confusing caves. It takes a great effort to remain still, to not shake with the anger that runs through him.

Finally he turns from the scene below; he knows in exacting detail what had happened to his mother once the soldiers had caught up to her. There's little need to watch it again, not when he's watched and rewatched it so many times. He remembers little enough about her: her dark hair, her brown skin, the way she screamed in fear and pain.

He has no weapons here save his hands and his words; therefore the latter must cut sharp and deep. "Your kingdom was built on the death of my people. Your legacy isn't peace or the salvation of Kemet. It's genocide."