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

[wormintheglass]

She doesn't know the details of this story, doesn't know the identity of Gren's big, bright shining star or how they died. But Bianca's unwanted empathy lurches in her hearts. She knows the story of waste and rage and unbridgable loss intimately. She knows how it ends.

"It really is. Here we are with our hearts still beating - it's positively obscene."

She plucks the bottle back, takes a long pull of her own and then offers it again.

"The whole universe is like this, dear heart. Wrong to its disgusting, pulsing core. One is supposed to say I'm sorry, isn't one? I am. Don't imagine I'm not. But those words are only moving air, Gren, and ...I can't move enough of it to matter."

[wormintheglass]

Well. This is new. Whose dream is this Bianca's wandered into?

She sets that aside. This is too delicious an opportunity to waste wondering about the anomalous Dr Brennan; so she smiles at them both and answers them both with an air of sympathetic understanding.

"What else would a mother do? And he is worthy of your faith."

Bianca finds, somewhat to her surprise, that she's speaking the truth. She may find Mello hilariously immature in some ways, but she enjoys him. He's a worthy opponent, and that is almost better than a friend.

[hotspurred]

Henry laughs, between bites of food. It's difficult to tear himself away from such pleasures, absent as they are in the waking world.

"Not quite. We Percies are Earls. We cannot match the splendour of kings."

They are nonetheless the most powerful house in the north and that reflects in the extravagance of his dream offerings.

[rage]

[wormintheglass]

The lights blind her: but Bianca has been a stage performer for more years than she can easily remember. She may not know where she is, or what kind of act the crowd's roaring for, but her back straightens, her chin lifting, as bone-deep as a dog pricking her ears at a scent. She is on ground as familiar as the inside of her head.

Rosie is an entirely unfamiliar version of herself, but if that surprises Bianca, she doesn't dwell on it. Her mind is racing too hard to put the pieces together: the snarl, the scent of blood, the vicious hunger in the sound of the crowd. They don't howl like that for a music festival, and Bianca has her long knives in her hands.

Bianca is quicker, stronger, more agile than a human, and it's only this that gives her time to lock her eyes on Rosie's. When she moves, it's purely defensive - one long knife slashing at the air in front of Bianca's throat, the other guarding her belly, her feet stepping in the oldest of all dances as she tries to dodge the rush without dropping her eye contact.

It works better if the contact is skin to skin, but Bianca's strength is in her eyes and her voice. She doesn't know how resistant Rosie might be, and part of her curses her sentimental self for not having tested it, back when they were awake and themselves. Her voice comes out rock-steady, as though they were alone in the dark, smooth and forgiving and infinitely loving, dark silk woven around hypnotic bands of steel.

"Rosie. Stop."

[muchadoabout]

He glances at the girl out of the corner of his eye, trying to ascertain whether she'd appreciate some gesture of comfort -- a hand on her arm, a hug. "Fuck. I'm sorry," he says, respectfully quietly. Following where Nick points, he studies the woman and notes the little girl at her side.

"Were you all there when it happened?"

[knockthemdead]

[Kravitz moves to face him with a start all the same, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He looks as though Magnus' presence here is a complete surprise.]

Magnus. What in the world-?

behold me, incredibly late hfewiu sorry!!

[knockthemdead]

[Company is not a complete surprise this time. However, Kravitz doesn't recognise this face at all, and he feels something hopeful and sickening swirl in his stomach. It doesn't make any sense that a dream would present to him a face he's long forgotten, but he can't help hanging onto the possibility all the same.

Kravitz approaches slowly, eyeing Brennan curiously.]

A wasteland of my own making. [How dramatic. He clears his throat.] I'm sorry, but who are you?

[knockthemdead]

[By now, Kravitz has a grip on what's going on. He's expecting company, but he's not expecting Taako. He's never not happy to see the other man, but he's conflicted about having him see this. Lying, though, is not an option.

He sighs, and holds out an open hand.]

This one, I'm afraid, is on old Kravitz over here.

[warubble]

[Fenn has no idea if he is, or what he's here to see, but he's been just kind of going with things lately. It seems to be working out all right. Anyway, Alphys looks happy. How bad can it be?]

Yes. [Fenn manages to sound very sure despite not knowing what is going on.]

[warubble]

Can't say I've heard of him. [The kid's enthusiasm is infectious. Fenn has no context, but he's absolutely rooting for this kid. Whatever he needs to do to get the top score, anyway.]

Is he the reigning champion with....this? [He grew up in a competitive system, but he's not sure what having a high score here proves or means. Bragging rights?]

[restinglichface]

The realization hits Lup later than it does Ephemera.

The woman leans back on her hands, digging her fingers into the sand and throwing her head back, soaking in the feel of the sun against her skin, content to sit out of this and give the pair their moment of relief together. She feels so light, so happy, that she was able to save this man's sister. It's easy for Lup's mind to wander to future meetings, to properly introduce Ephemera to her brother so that the four of them could hang out together. So the elf could get to know this hidden part of her friend's life. For all she talked about Taako, why hadn't he brought up a sister before?

But then Chica's wheezing breaths soften and slow, Ephemera offering gentle reassurances to the woman. Lup's eyes open to find the man moving to lay down with her, comforting her. And it clicks.

They'd only bought her a few moments longer.

Lup doesn't speak, doesn't move, but she feels the tears streaming down her cheeks before she even realizes she's crying.

[trashmouths]

[ Oh, man, this is amazing. This is amazing! This is the best moment of his life, because some super cool rockstar is inviting him on stage--some super cool rockstar is telling him to get on stage--and somehow, he knows all the words and all the chords already.

Then again, it's punk music, all you need to know is three chords. He scrambles up onto the barricade, glasses askew, grin a mile wide. ]

You're the fucking coolest!

[ Can he be heard over the music? Who knows. Who cares! He's given a guitar, conveniently all the right straps, and joins in on the downbeat. ]

[trashmouths]

Yeah, for ages. I've been training all summer.

[ The quarter goes in, a few beeps, and Richie immediately chooses Ryu, upper teeth scraping against his lips as he concentrates. ]

Bowers is the biggest asshole on the planet, so if I can do this and beat him, I'll prove to everyone he's just a turd in a mullet.

YOU'RE FINE MY DUDE WE'RE WINGING IT

[pocketspa]

It doesn't even touch her, and his breath shakes, blink hitting back into effect and letting him sidestep. He's only got a minute on this, unless he wants to keep burning this slot over and over, and the fact that there's always a chance it won't work if she gets too close or he drops his concentration. He has to figure out some way to incapacitate her, something that will give him some time to find an escape route.

He's ready as soon as he blinks back in, ten feet away, spell component in hand and staff drawn towards her, when suddenly an impossibly loud ringing noise bursts out nearby. Anyone too close in the audience may be able to hear it, as well.

He hopes those fluffy ears are damn sensitive.

[foundafamily]

Where I come from, believing a guy who says he's a magician is the definition of gullible.

[Given how convinced she seems to be, he figures he might as well just be talking to himself.]

...But it's your funeral. So, are you gonna go for it or not?

[hot_mes]

[seriously, dude. You do you, but the blood is kind of a turn-off.]

Maybe I've seen things far more disgusting than that. [with a nod toward Prowly McShadowface] Or maybe I don't know whether to make it out to be something worth worrying about. It hasn't attacked me and now it hasn't attacked you either.

[also, a healthy dose of dream logic]

[trashmouths]

[ Richie's fidgeting. He's always fidgeting in some manner, sure, but this is different. He doesn't know what to do, or what to say, and that's weird. ]

Then tell me.

[trashmouths]

Then you hunt money.

In banks.

[trashmouths]

[ Richie has no chill, not in the least. ]

Scoot scoot scoot-- [ Even though she already is, of course, and he adjusts his glasses and grins. ]

You know Bowers? 15 year old? I'm gonna whup his ass.

[trashmouths]

Yeah. [ Not in the real world, not in the real Derry, but this isn't the real Derry, this is a dream, and this is a dream where everything's finally going to be okay. ]

He's a real piece of shit, too. Cut up one of my friends real bad. Shit in my backpack in the middle of school. So I'm gonna cream him.

[ He chooses his fighter and begins, frantically tapping at the buttons. ]

[requiemshark]

Ephemera keeps his good eye closed, holding his sister close. She was never his by blood, he never had anyone by blood, but she's everything in all ways. They've fought together, laughed together, bled together. So much blood after so many years, they might as well be siblings. And she's everything as her breathing slows, that rattling cough threatening to shake her whole body.

It hurts to drown. The body turns on itself trying to survive the water. Ephemera read that somewhere.

He presses their foreheads together. Listens to her wheeze. The way her breathing has gone so slow.

"Goodbye," he says, softly. He loves her more than anything. And he thinks that she smiles, just for a moment, before she gives a long sigh and just--

Stops.

[murderpotato]

"I know," he says, and he's old enough that it's true. He's too old to not understand that all the I'm sorrys in the world won't make a damn bit of difference. He appreciates it, though, as an expression of sympathy. When this had all been happening, he had been more concerned with Holly-- she had been Lily's sister, after all-- and he'd kept himself going with a gut full of guilt and impotent anger. Turns out that you can only stay angry for so long.

He'd blamed Bigby and the rest of the Fabletown government for not giving a shit when he'd told them for weeks that Lily was missing, for not caring enough to save her-- but he hadn't saved her, either. And the weight of that eats a hole in his stomach faster than the tequila ever will.

"But she deserved better than this. She deserved... she deserved a real fuckin' funeral, she deserved a little fuckin' dignity. They couldn't even let her have that fuckin' much."

[warubble]

[Fenn wonders if he looked that stiff giving his first reports.
Probably, but then he'd grown up with his mother demanding accounts for all his mistakes. Fenn knows different phrases, but he's repeated this sentiment over and over and over. Veris first. It's always been Veris before any selfish desires, and Veris who would make use of Fenn despite his many imperfections.]

Duty is paramount. Before self, family, and love.

[Fenn pauses.]

I don't believe that anymore. [Fenn looks at her and grins unhappily.] It's pretty fucking awful. I'm not sure I can recommend it.

[anoshe]

Oh, it's not personal. Not really. I just wasn't enough to stay for.

[He shrugs, mouth twisting into a bitter smile.]

And since I can't leave, this is what it turns into.

[roseofthetyrells]

[good thing Margaery's fairly light, then, though her eyes narrow angrily as the door closes.

okay, time for a new tactic: try to attack the woman instead. she's trying to get past the sentry to get to the woman, sending kicks and clawed fingernails in her direction]

Nobody will ever restrain me again, you bitch!

[...well, that movement was unexpected. she barely managed to keep her footing with it started, but if the woman is distracted, now might be the time for a fresh attack against her. Margaery reaches for her throat]