hadriel_logs | Event Log: Dreamwalker the Second

Entry tags:

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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"Yeah," she says, hushed, with a slow nod of her head. She inhales slowly, shoves her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, and stares down at her boots. "He was a good guy. I know he loved me - which is more than I could say for my ma." Nick looks up at the front pew, points to the woman sitting next to the girl with dusty blonde hair and bruising on her face that not even the thickest foundation has been able to hide.

"She never really liked me a whole lot, but after my dad died, she hated me a lot more."

Is that so? [always an interesting thing to hear, when kingdoms are involved. There's few things he won't tolerate - slavery is one] Ah. Anything they could get their hands on, I assume. I know it was going on, but I never dealt with it directly. Given what I know of the broker, though, it was literally anything people would buy.

[not something he's eager to think about in such a sunny atmosphere]

Oh!

[ Angus gasps and brings a hand to his mouth, the exact same way that 11-year-old Angus does whenever he's made a conversational misstep. ]

No, Ma'am, I'm sorry, that wasn't meant as a dunk on your climbing skills! I was just asking because our shortcut is over the rooftops, and I thought I'd ask just in case you have acrophobia or something! If that's the case, we can take the back-alleys.

[At first, he just shrugs. He does have an answer, but he's not sure he should give it... He glances nervously up at the bathroom window. It's open, and he can faintly hear the shower running. Hm.]

People. And I'm not supposed to do it on anybody's cats.

[That hasn't happened yet, technically, but he remembers it anyway. Dreams are funny like that.]

[You are his problem!!!!]

I just want to. It's not weird. It makes me feel better.

「Okay... Let us not lie here, that is one heck of a grim confession. But, hey, Atem is not in his awesome throne room, he's got no priests with him, he's technically no one to judge, especially not until he knows what's behind it all.」

Hey--! Cats are sacred. 「Dude, stay away from the cats. Bastet will have your soul. But, t-that's hardly the point! Oh, well.」

You're not supposed to do it on anyone. Why do you want to anyway?

「Let's go right to the point, why pussyfoot here? There is always something else, he knows it, he just has to remember certain people from his past, they always had stronger reasons.」

[He growls, but lets go of the trowel. He can't get it back, anyway.

But he doesn't like how she's talking to him. She doesn't get to tell him what to do. Who even is she? He's never met her before and now she's in his backyard trying to make up all these rules.]

Hunting is stupid.

[He grabs the rabbit with both hands again and holds its body still as he shifts to dig one knee into its skull. He leans into it with his full weight, and the rabbit writhes and shrieks briefly before there's a wet crack. It goes limp.

Its head is caved in and oozing when he pulls away. There's a dark smudge of blood on his knee. He stands, and kicks the corpse toward Abigail.]

Eat it, then.

[He shrugs.] It was, at first, but I got used to it. [He had distractions. After everything was squared away with his mother's arrest and trial... Well, foster care wasn't that bad in comparison.]

It was good for me, though. Or at least better than the alternative. I don't know if that'll be the case for you, but it's possible that it won't be all bad. [He's not much of an optimist, but in this case, he means it.]

Whatever the system throws at you, it's best to try and roll with the punches. You can't go backwards, but in a couple years, you'll be 18. You get to make your own choices from there.

[Abigail glares at him when the animal shrieks.]

You made him suffer. Never do that again.

[Her gaze travels down to the rabbit. A dead animal, blood, even brain doesn't bother her. Not with her past. She looks back up at him.]

It's not my kill.

[Her kill would have been clean and neat. No pain. The animal wouldn't have even seen it coming.]

Pick it up. You have to honour it.

[ Cashmere makes a soft wail of distress. he's right. ]

Not before, but if things are different, maybe everything is different. [ her expression darkens. ] We can't live here alone. I don't want to be alone.

We just need to find a way to make everyone not be - [ she gestures to the headstones around them. ] this.

[Oh. That went better than he expected. He heads over to Hayden, kneeling down next to him to wipe the blood off of his chin with his sleeve.]

What do you mean "why"? I'm not gonna leave you to get bullied by assholes.

[ she holds her arm out for him to take as they make their way to the champagne. ] That's what I was hoping you'd say.

[ this is the most fun she's had in a while. if she focuses too long on the other faces (or any of, really) it all feels a little out of place. she pushes those doubts away. it's a party. why worry? ]

Did you make a birthday wish yet?

[Indeed, glass does not seem to be the sturdiest of materials, and yet it's enough to hold the weight of two synthetics and a human woman once the doors are snapped closed.

[The sentry merely stands in the way of Margaery's exit, silent and unwavering in the face of the insults and attacks waged against it. The woman appears to only vaguely be paying attention.]

I was against the very notion of restraints, but you, Number, are making me question tha--

[The abrupt jerk of the pod before it starts moving suggest that the motion is an unexpected one. She stumbles, hand pressed to the glass wall as something seems to have latched onto the outside of the opaque door the second the pod kicked into motion.]

The heavy footfalls of leather approaches the pod entry, dragging something at its side. It appears to be an armored sentry, more humanoid in shape and appearance than the more robotic guard that had taken Kyrii to this place.

Only, as the silhouette draws closer to the light of the corridor, the shape of a hooded person in black armor materializes from the shadows.

"You're not--" the synthetic starts, before her face caves under the force of a metal, electric rod. Sparks spit out from under her human-like skin, revealing metal instead of skull. Her body twists like a marionette as she's hurled back into the pod, the doors snapping shut before her unmoving body.

As the armored shape goes to turn, the sentry is already aiming to swing the rod at this new threat, while attempting to maintain its hold on Kyrii.

That goes about as well as you can expect.

"Your cooperation," the woman simply says, before ignoring Firo completely. Her attention turns to the robotic figure. "Escort this one to the transport pod. El-87 will be prepped there."

Somehow, it does not seem that the woman is referring to Firo this time.

The sentry securing Firo's wrists by metal restaints far more sophisticated, thick, and uncomfortable than the already uncomfortable handcuffs, it marches the prisoner out of the cold cell.

Rather than being met with a cell block full of screaming, spitting prisoners, the area is eerily quiet. Only the muffled sounds of movements can be heard behind each door they pass by as the sentry starts taking Firo down a narrowed catwalk. The woman is gone, seemingly tending to business elsewhere.

What's a broken mandible sound like?

[The question isn't directed at anyone in particular—maybe Temperance if she can hear, maybe at the person standing next to Elena. Or maybe she's just thinking out loud. Either way, it's likely to go eternally unanswered (how tragic) because some other jerk is wading in and oh, no, she can't let that go unchallenged.]

Hey, buddy! I see you!

[And she charges in after him, taking a swing before he can actually do anything himself.]

[This kid is clearly capable, but he's a little short too, so she figures it's not too much to lend some aid with the climbing. Immediately, she falls into step beside him, moving urgently because this is important!]

Oh, I couldn't do that. My husband used to be a professional thief.

[It's fine to admit that. This isn't real, right?]

Thanks, though. So, is this guy going to put up a fight?

While the machines are more equipped at dealing with the struggles of a typical human of varying strength, they don't have the makings of fending off more... otherworldly blows. It doesn't take much for the woman and the sentry to become frozen in their place, leaving the door open enough for the prisoner's escape.

Of course, the outside doesn't appear to be much of a prison. It feels more like a tomb, with the dead quiet that deafens the air. Any signs of movement or voice would echo through the empty, metal place of this cell block.

Here, there are narrow stairways leading up and down four different levels of this block, with thirty cells lining on each floor.

Now it's just a matter of taking the high or low road to freedom.

[ Angus flails, both hands frantically waving at the twins and trying to motion for them to stay quiet (not that they need the reminder!), and get the hell out of here while they can. ]

Nothing! I-I mean... why are you so tiny! What's going on?!

[ At this point, Angus realizes that between the flailing and the words that he's mouthing, he's probably making zero sense and looks like a crazy person. Worse yet, the crowd around the shattered water barrel is beginning to disperse, as the smarter members of the group realize that somebody must be responsible for the mess.

Angus swallows nervously, presses himself back against the wagon, casts Disguise Self (that's two spell slots now, he has to keep track), and begins walking across the camp towards the wagon next to the twins as inconspicuously as he can, disguised as one of the women who'd been tending to the horses at the edge of camp. His inner dialogue is a mix of panicked screaming, and prayers to any nearby deities who might be listening to not let anyone bump into him, or ask him any questions that would require him speaking in his squeaky 11-year-old-boy voice. ]

Jesus Christ, Michael.

[Oddly enough, it doesn't come out condemning, she's just too shocked to say anything else.]

It's like this every time?

[Harlan doesn't quite realize the gravity of the words until Kyna's voice comes out soft and trembling. He meant it, of course, but he hadn't considered that this might be difficult for Kyna. He's always had a hard time figuring out what would bother her and what wouldn't. It's probably not all that different to how he doesn't like to be touched, but it's easier, he thinks, to figure out what's okay for him. The difference between contact and no contact is easy. He's not sure where her line is.

Maybe that's part of why he loses his patience sometimes. He doesn't understand what the difference between hard and not hard is. While they're laying everything out on the table, he may as well ask.]

Are you nervous?

[Of course she's nervous. It's terrifying, and the only reason she thinks she managed to say it is because he said it first. She nods, letting out a frustrated breath. He can say it so easily, and here she is, freaking out about it.]

That's so fucking stupid, right?

Not better or worse. Just different.

[Adam's mother always told him he didn't have it so bad, that it was partially his fault anyway. He internalized that. It's stuck with him even after getting out, even after knowing it was that bad. It's not something he can get rid of so easily.]

I have people now, yeah. There are people who care about me, who will stand by me and help me however they can.

[He is never not thankful for that.]

You will too.

[It looks unlike anything most people have decorated, because most people have the good sense not to decorate with blood messages and copious amounts of candles. Most people.]

Yeah...

[And he's just gonna. Let that trail off. He's busy anyway, wiggling out from under his personal demon. The Visitor lets him struggle for a moment, then jumps up to continue its frantic pacing. Michael drags himself up, straightening his glasses.]

It's weird, though; you don't seem all that affected by it. Most people get one glimpse and go the hell the other way.

[Nico looks around the room with mild curiosity, and his expression doesn't change much when he spots the figure standing in the middle of the room. It takes a lot to scare him.

When he hears the sound of something coming close, though, he pulls out his black sword just to be cautious. When the creature appears, Nico puts together it's probably some sort of phantom. And bones? Bones just make Nico smirk ever so slightly. He's the son of Hades, the Ghost King. He's not afraid of a phantom made of bones, not when he has power over them.

When Michael shows up, Nico just quirks an eyebrow at him.] Need some help with that?

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Event Log: Dreamwalker the Second

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cw gore/animal death...

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