hadriel_logs | Event Log: Dreamwalker the Second

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Event Log: Dreamwalker the Second

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.

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[Elena looks up and smiles at him, more relaxed than she's been in months. Aside from some very pointed exceptions, life in Hadriel hasn't been that awful, but there's only so much peace to be found there. It can't even begin to compare to this future she would make for herself, even if it's not one she's admitted to wanting.

For now, she's completely happy. It doesn't matter if it's just a dream.]

Hey, you. [Of course Nate's here. Any future she hopes for has him in it.] Come on over. She just woke up—I think she missed you.

The Thief is right, he's told him so before, and he could go on with that, but, for what? He could easily bend the reality of this dream and bring those screams to an end too, but... for what?!

It all seems... suddenly so useless. Why do they keep fighting over the past?

"When did I lie to you, Bakura?"

He tells him he wants him gone, but he's still here, he cannot leave.

"It isn't always what you want." No one ever got everything they wanted. He knows that well enough. He's seen enough hurting and enough hurting others to have learned that lesson.

"It isn't fair, either. It never is. But it doesn't have to be."

[Mettaton glances around at that, because it's hard not to realize that everything's looking a little less sharp than before. THe influence of his surroundings also seems less...potent, and the strange manifestation of his aching SOUL reintegrates with his body, giving him the strength to straighten up again.]

...Perhaps I should have done it then. It wouldn't have saved anyone, but at least I would not need to contribute.

Still.

[Mettaton isn't going to let things go as they are. For someone to say that they would prefer to die than take the life of another, especially someone in such a high position? That was naive. Something he would expect from such a young human, maybe.

But not one that set his acolytes upon a robot to peel his SOUL off of his own body and admit what he'd done. Mettaton's not known for his tolerance to such things. He never would be either.]

It's unconscionable to judge someone without knowing what they've endured. It isn't a good luck, sweetheart. However...do as you will. If I'm right about this all, what you do to me does not really matter, does it?

[Unleash that big mouthed Seto guy on him. Let's get this over with.]

[The beast screams again, furious, and snaps in Delmar's direction. It misses, but unfortunately for it, its jaws are still slightly open when the fireplace poker strikes. The blow isn't quite enough to crack the bone itself, but a couple of teeth are knocked loose, falling from the creature's fleshless face. It moves to swipe at him with its free front limb, but Michael pulls it off balance and it's forced to put that leg back down.

He's realizing he can't keep this up forever. When it's contained in his head, he has some say over who they target, over when it attacks. But out in the open like this? The thing's off it's proverbial leash. He has to redirect it or it's going to kill his friend.

Michael makes a decision, the way he does when it gets to be too much, and when he's sure it's the right person. That one. Take that one. He lets go of the Visitor's arm and the monster completely shifts gears, all attention now honed in on the faceless figure across the room. It surges past Delmar and tackles the figure, tearing into it with glee.

Michael, for his part, just kind of falls on his ass, knocked over in the Visitor's excitement.]

[While the Thief is larger and stronger than the smaller, agile Pharaoh, that is reversed in their monsters. Diabound weaves and snakes away from Obelisk's attempts to pin it down. The bridge and walls shake; the unfinished tomb is probably going to take some damage from the battle (and that thought suits Bakura just fine).

But he's little enough time to worry about the structural integrity of the tomb beyond the surety of his next step, because the Pharaoh is still springing toward him and he's still armed where Bakura is not. But while the Pharaoh has clearly been taught to attack and defend himself, the Thief has had to learn by the simple teacher that is survival. Maybe it makes him more of a scrappy, unconventional fighter but in close quarters he has both size and muscle to bring to bear, more that the smaller Pharaoh. So he'll allow his opponent to pursue him with the idea of getting close enough to grapple, where the advantage should be his.]

Do you really think you can best me?

It does not.

「It is not Priest Seto who speaks, he even seems not to be there, blurred out by Atem's anger. What Mettaton speaks is nothing but the truth, and it hurts. It hurts his pride, his beliefs (self imposed) and it just makes him so damn angry that he's kept these feelings buried inside.

They are not for anyone to be known. He's a god, he must carry on with his father's legacy.

Rage pushes in, she will no waste this opportunity, it seems. It is Atem himself who will deal with him. See him raising a hand to the invisible sky, listen to him summoning him, his own monster, and finally, see that mighty beast descend on them. A massive dragon, blinding, violent and deadly like the desert's sun.

The Pharaoh speaks and unleashes the onslaught, and there is only light.」

[That is indeed a fair point, but-]

It could, but it won't. [Says the guy currently being held down by it.]

I don't think it can actually kill me. [Because then it'd be without a host. It has to at least understand that, right? As if in answer, the Visitor sits on Michael's legs and swipes at him with one of its forelimbs. The claws narrowly miss his face, though it's not clear whether this is by design or by accident, instead striking the wood floor, sending up a small spray of splinters.]

What?

[What is this kid's problem?]

No you're not. And I'm not giving it back, you'll hurt it. Why do you wanna do that anyway?

[If he sounds like he's narrating a crime show, it's because he's going for distance. He doesn't want to accept it either, even if he sort of already has.]

Yeah. The Visitor. That's what you saw. It happens after... after it's done.

They're both a little on their guard, it's plain enough to see. But considering that this stranger seems to be taking a protective stance toward the child, Bakura forces himself to relax. What threat is he to his young self anyway?

"It already did; that could never be changed." Will this man be able to connect the dirty child with the grown man in front of him? The thief knows not. The child, for his part, shivers between the two men, prompting the thief to shed his outer robe and drop it around the small shoulders.

Another scream leads him to glance at the scene below even though it's not like he doesn't know what's happening, not like he hasn't replayed this night in his memories for centuries. But still he looks, and what he sees pains him.

"There are kings who did not care, yet someone of no consequence does."

"You dare — you dare — to play at remorse! You invited me to drop you from this very cliff!"

His arm swings toward that edge, pointing and drawing attention not only to the cliff, but the ruin of Kul Elna and the fires and screams that still fill the desert night. Their argument has not stopped the scene for progressing, has not stopped bodies from being carried into the foul work space to be melted into gold trinkets for the royal court.

"Yet a village means nothing to you. So which is the truth then, false king? Your remorse, or your apathy?"

Edited 2017-10-20 18:20 (UTC)

[If there's one thing that can reliably be said about Tucker, it's that no one has ever had to tell him twice to run. The second things go from party to chaos, he's back in his usual mindset. Find the exits. Get out.

It was nice spending time with this extended family, so much like his own save for their openness. But when the shit hits the fan, he's glad they're not really his. He doesn't have anyone whose hand he needs to reach for, or anyone whose name he has to call. It's just him, his first priority, just like it's always been.

He doesn't shift, he doesn't take time to figure out what's going on, he just ducks behind the nearest shack. If he wants to make a break for it, he'll need to know where the shots are coming from, so he edges forward until he can barely see the roiling panic of the crowd. Some are standing their ground, some are running blind, but Tucker's eyes hone in on the few that are moving slowly and methodically. The killers. A small part of him resents them for shattering this peace, but most of him's concerned with far more utilitarian goals.

There's not much over out there, but if he bolts while the hunters are still concerned with the little village, he could probably make it far enough before- wait.

He recognizes one of those faces. Rome? Despite himself, he watches for a few more seconds.]

"I am no king here..."

He tries, he reaches for him as far as he can, with his words, as he has before.

Can't he really see it? That his pain hurts him as well? Sure, of course, he will never know how was it to lose it all, in the way that Bakura did, only here he had been so close to feel it in the flesh, but... It does, his pain hurts the Pharaoh's soul. It is a reminder that everything he had ever believed in was but a lie. This sin had made his father sick, it had killed him, and Atem is sure, without a shadow of a doubt, if circumstances had been different for them all, that if he had let the terrible truth sink in, it would have killed him too.

Edited 2017-10-20 18:46 (UTC)

[That shocked expression is exactly what Tucker wanted. Feels good, man. An since he's pretty confident he can get away with this, it's time to keep going!]

Yes of course, and I appreciate his charity so much that I couldn't possibly stomach any more of yours, too. I don't want to be greedy.

[He speaks in the most sickeningly sweet voice he can manage without laughing.]

Maybe you should take your help and give it to someone who actually wants to kiss your ass. Or maybe you could shove it there.

[He doesn't think these rich boys would lob a punch and risk their uncalloused hands, but he's ready to duck just in case.]

A complete victory. You should be proud. Maybe you'll get some kind of promotion.

[ Fenn's always been naively trusting. It's something that has gotten him in trouble time and again. He thinks he can recognize that posture. He recognizes the polished words said before a drunk enlisted man breaks it down to "more of those fuckers died than us."]

At least it was quick.

[Not quite like that, but Brennan shrugs and nods anyway.]

I don't always understand Angie, but I'm starting to learn I don't have to.

[Some things are better left unexplained.]

[She follows, thinking for a moment of Christine's baptism, of Booth holding her and saying his part of the ritual with no hesitation. Brennan had not burst into flames even as she thought it was ridiculous to believe an infant had committed sins that would condemn her to hell unless she was baptised. If Hayden has not sinned either by church definition, why should he be killed on the spot by a supposedly loving god?

As she walks up the aisle behind Hayden, she shoots glares at the people murmuring, daring them to try and tell him to leave.]

The altar is a table. [This she says to Hayden.] It is meant to represent the final meal shared by Jesus with his disciples. It was not very long ago that the altar was set in the back of the platform and every ceremony performed in Latin. The priest had his back to the congregation the whole time. But several decades ago, it was decided that the priest and the congregation should celebrate their so-called mysteries together -- they and whoever else wished to join them.

That means you too. You are welcome here, by the words attributed to the god the church believes in.

"That doesn't answer my question."

Which honestly surprise the thief; have their conversations ever been anything but full of traps and barbs? It's no different from their duels. But he also finds that he can't care too much for the answer; he's little enough energy that isn't being taken up in the burning rage and the terrible, deep sorrow caused by the scene below.

To relive this same memory every night is almost more than he can take. His nerves are frayed enough from this strange place and from the fight for survival. For sleep to be less than restful is not exactly helpful.

[He can push her all he wants, but he doesn't get a rise out of her. Not in this dream, anyway. Perhaps if they had met when her family left, she might have met him at his level. She has a plan and she is going to achieve it, no matter what he or anyone else may think. Her parents believed in her, and so did her brother. She'll achieve her goals and leave behind everyone who mocked her.

His admission makes her flinch. That's what people say the system is like. There are good families, sure, but all she can think of is the bad ones. The people unfit to be parents. The ones who beat their foster kids or lock them in the trunk of a car for two days just because of an accident.]

Nothing can stop me. No one.

[She's looking at him when she says it, but it's more to herself for her own sake, agreeing with him despite his ridiculous accent. If she has to hide in her homework to survive and get what she wants, she'll do it. If she has to give up what little social skills she managed to learn while she lived with her family, she'll do it. She will be Dr. Temperance Brennan someday.

As hope starts to burn hot in her chest, the dream begins to fade away, like someone turning on a light in a dark room.]

Thanks.

Most people tell me to shut the fuck up. [ It's sincere, and he grins, fumbling with his glasses again. He's not sure how to handle an actual, factual sincere expression of gratitude. ]

Hey--what's your name?

[Well, he'll have to learn, because she always says what she means.

She smiles back.] Temperance.

Together.

[The word sounds so wonderful, and she meant it for him, too! He can feel his heart beating faster as he reaches nervously for his tail and twists it between his hands. He can't find anywhere to go that's open, so he keeps moving closer to the front. It doesn't seem as if there's anyone up there, but the lights keep getting brighter and brighter. With Brennan's encouragements filling his fluttering stomach, he doesn't let himself stop.]

I do believe. I believe...there's something good for me too.

[Something. Somewhere. A place that doesn't hurt. A place where people smile at him like he's always been meant to be there.]

It doesn't, does it?

What can the Pharaoh tell him that covers and soothes what the Thief is feeling right now, that makes Atem feel better himself when he feels like dropping himself off that cliff anyway? The screams make him feel sick still, do they make feel Bakura anything else nowadays, he wonders, other than hate?

Atem wants out this dream so badly he wouldn't mind doing it by himself, not even asking Bakura to do it, he's got enough in his plate already after all--

ah, of course...

Without thinking about it twice, Atem gathers the courage and springs towards Bakura, tackling the taller man down towards the cliff, and the Pharaoh doesn't let go, he goes down with him.

It is a long way down...

❧

Seconds later he can feel it, the absolute dread down his stomach as he wakes, sitting up and gasping heavily, drenched in his own sweat.

He's here...

"Well... we do have houses..." Rydia gestures around her pointing at the various buildings "but I feel like this isn't quite what you meant. Still I suppose your provings do have points in common with our challenges? Those who win against the favorite usually get to brag about it for a while. Our system seems simpler, thought." Still, Aren's world sounds fascinating.

"So... uhm... what do you do when someone's glory increases? Do you celebrate it? I mean, no one dies in your provings as well, I can't see them being anything but fun- before and after!" Fortunately enough for Rydia the Feymarch is a friendly place compared to the dwarven city, the limited number of people living in it and the fact that most of them are immortal probably contribuited at making the whole community as united as it is "Please, do tell me more!"

Edited 2017-10-20 21:52 (UTC)

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Page 44 of 104

Event Log: Dreamwalker the Second

BEAT YOU TO IT

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the best and worst kind of bonding

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cw mentions of abuse

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