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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[Mettaton doesn't bother struggling. Instead, he lets everything happen, allows his owner to control his arm into pulling back. He only hopes that it doesn't give Blooky a sense that mercy is coming. Because it isn't.

After a short pause, his fingers slide down to the former ghost's neck, curling tightly around it. Napstablook's breathing would come short, then not at all, and Mettaton holds like that for a while, not because he wants to of course.

If it was up to him, this would be done already.

His lips move, and words that aren't his slip out:]

Sad little human. The odds were against you to begin with.

[Mettaton's wrist twists, hard and quick; enough to snap that thin, weak neck he's already crushing.]

Oh, the two of them are deadly indeed.

And as for the Balrogs, they were afraid when the seven sons of Fëanor rode against them together. The fiery monsters withdrew and left the terribly injured Fëanor to be collected by his sons, instead of finishing the job. And Curufin remembers that day so very clearly! This time, the Balrogs will not get away, even though there are but two Fëanorions. These two are not to be trifled with, the warrior-Bard with the powerful Song, and the warrior-smith with an arm like iron and a sword of meteoric steel that flashes blue and white as Curufin charges it up with power from the core of his sorcerous soul. And Maglor's sword blazes in a like manner.

The Balrogs try to surround the brothers, but Maglor and Curufin dodge and dart and feint. They draw out the most fierce and forward of the Balrogs and their swords strike him like lightening as Maglor's Song smashes into the spirit of darkness like a wave from the sea.

[Their neck's being squeezed, and soon what little air they could breathe in doesn't come at all. They gasp weakly, like a fish out of water.

As Mettaton speaks to them, they barely register what he's saying. Their chest aches, they start to drift in and out of consciousness as their brain is deprived of oxygen.

They don't want to die.

They don't want to die.

They don't...

want...

...

SNAP!]

As dreams do, to wish it is to be there, the sea giving way to green fields and neat gardens and Maglor smiles.

"What else but drinking songs, my brother?"

Maglor fits his dance to Curufin's own, carried on his song, bringing all his skill and rage tp bear. Too many have fallen to these demons. No more.

"I made it partly to check on you, Anakin," replies Curufin. "And I am glad for you, that you have achieved your dream."

Although he does have a few worries about this. Once a person achieves so much power, it is hard to wield it justly, human beings being what they are -- we all want what we want, and what we want seems fair and right to us, even when others disagree or have opposing desires. It is hard not to use power to overpower others in that case.

But as for Curufin, his business is fairly simple, though he's not sure what kind of reception he will get once he reveals it.

"I will not mince words, then, since your time is valuable and you must be very busy. The Dark Jedi are a fairly small group. We are not identical with the Sith, as we have some differences with the tenets of the Sith Order. And as you can guess from what we call ourselves, we have some differences with the Jedi philosophy, too. We believe in the passions; we believe that truth is to be found by accepting them and exploring them, by plunging into the power that they confer on the heart that welcomes them. We believe the Dark Side and the Light Side are both essential to a warrior's understanding of the meaning of life as well as to his or her combat skills. You have heard me speak of this before, long ago."

"But on those few planets where the Dark Jedi make their homes and have their training centers, the Empire rules -- of course, as it does everywhere in the galaxy! -- and your administrators apparently have some concerns about us. They have us under surveillance and seem to be leaning towards regarding us as a heretical cult. A few of us have been arrested, but so far, everybody's been released after questioning and nobody's been executed or even permanently jailed."

"I hope that it will stay that way. And so I decided to come straight to the top, instead of arguing with the local officials. Can you help me with this?"

Holly and Lily are the closest things to family that Gren had anymore-- had been, anyway. Her death was bad, worse for what it did to Holly, and worse still because of the powerlessness of it; the impotent feeling of knowing that she needed help and not being able to give it to her. Gren would've done anything to help her.

And then he did everything he could to help Holly, because Lily was her sister and it was more important to get her through it. After what happened at this funeral, after the fucking Tweedles trespassed and shot both himself and Holly-- he'd kind of thought that he'd finally just snap. He thought he'd just lose it, because how much can they take from one person, even after she's dead? They already took her life, her dignity, even her body, and after all that they couldn't let her rest peacefully. They had to take just a little more. It's enough to make a man want to scream from the injustice of it. They weren't supposed to be monsters anymore.

By now, the cigarette's burned down almost to the filter, and Gren flicks it over the fence and into the darkness.

"They found her head on the front steps of the Woodlands," he says. "They found the rest of her in the fuckin' river."

He probably doesn't really need to elaborate much more on the cause of death. Wade knows enough about that sort of thing to figure it out himself.

"She was in a lotta trouble and didn't want anybody's help gettin' out of it," he continues, because he knows if he stops he's never going to actually get the whole thing out. "She was strippin' at this sleazy fuckin' place called the Pudding N'Pie, and hookin' on the side too. The guy in charge of the whole fuckin' racket wanted her dead to cover some shit up."

His hand is shaking; sometimes, he wishes that he'd gotten to the Crooked Man first, so that he could teach him a thing or two about fear. So that he could give back just a fraction of the hurt that he'd inflicted on people like Lily and Faith. That'd be justice, wouldn't it? Monstrous justice, maybe, but even if the Crooked Man had been born human, Gren knew a monster when he saw one.

Curufin lets her take his arm, and then he slips it around her waist. He smiles down at that auburn head as she leans her cheek on his shoulder. He answers, "Yes, Lady Sansa?" with that little trace of affectionate humor in his voice. If she is formal and respectful, so will he be. She deserves no less.

But those people. . . ah, she's right. They aren't alive.

"I was misled for a moment, so great does their ire seem against you. But you are right. They can neither harm you nor refuse you entrance to the castle that is your own. Let us go in."

[He doesn't understand, exactly, what all of that means. He knows he's missing key pieces of information about Alphys' world, though, and he thinks that's likely why. It's impossible for him to unravel exactly what the meaning is, what's going on around here, and that's all right. He'll do what he can regardless.]

What did you leave in it?

[Adam is tense now, especially after that sound cuts through the darkness again. He wishes he had a weapon, but he knows it wouldn't make much difference if he did. He's not a fighter, not like that. He has to rely on his magic to protect him. It's the same in dreams as it is in real life.]

Is there something in here with us?

Really? That's amazing.

[He wonders what her world's like, if she got to pet a giraffe. Or maybe she's just really rich or something - Adam's known a few guys rich enough to buy their own giraffes if they wanted.]

What do they eat? Leaves? Maybe we can offer them some food.

[He nods his head, polite and wary all at once.]

Kravitz. I suppose the gods do not deign to separate those we know from those we don't.

[After Magnus' appearance in his dream and the buzz created on the network, he's guessing this is a god thing.]

It's unfortunate that I couldn't share a more pleasant dream with you. This one is hardly worth wasting a night on.

I imagine they derive some sort of sustenance by throwing strangers together. Rage and Confusion most of all, perhaps.

[Brennan shrugs.]

As irrational as emotions may be, not expressing them does more harm than not. Perhaps one night will be enough for you to... process grief or regret. In any case, this feeling is... familiar. I am sorry you feel this way. It is unpleasant.

[Frowning, Brennan meets her gaze.]

Do you? You don't... need to say, of course. I'm just-- hoping to feel happy here again.

Then, I'm sorry that your mother was a prick. [ She was more than that, but it's not exactly Cecily's place to say. ] ... I'm sorry that this all happened to both you and your sister.

[ She has to assume Rica is Aren's sister, here, but that seems obvious enough. ]

Maker. [ Cecily breathes after the story. ] ... So, it was a case of... someone being in the right place at the right time, wans't it? Unless it's worse to be a Warden than to be dead, in which case it's the other way 'round.

[ The Inquisitor is very, very familiar with being in the wrong place at the wrong time. ]

[It's not the kind of thing she'd normally talk about, but she and Temperance are friends, right? That's why she's here? Besides, part of her still thinks this is just a normal dream. It certainly doesn't feel real.]

My husband and I were estranged a few years back. I still loved him, and I wanted to see him again, but he needed to...find himself, I guess is one way of putting it.

It's not the same as what you're dealing with, I could reach out to him, but—I couldn't.

"What--?"

There's a passing moment of bemusement, before Ravine glances to the bone scythe in her grasp. Ah, yes, that would explain the immediate presumption.

Her eyes shift back to Nothing. "Not exclusively. You could say I am merely one of a handful that still exist."

The disappearances of the Psychopomps over the last few centuries since the Collapse has been the cause of many problems for her, but fortunately she is not to only one burdened by it.

You don't understand. [ Neither does she, of course, but she isn't aware that it's a dream. Not yet. ] The warlocks mean to torture me so that I am... kept here forever, watching this...

[ If there's any chance that the Dragon Queen will remain in the House of the Undying with her 'husband' and 'son,' they'll take it. What do they care how much it pains her? ]

How can I leave them? [ She whispers, looking up to Ignis. ]

"The gods of Hadriel?" [ The other woman's words don't make sense, and Dany shakes her head lightly to try and clear it. ] We are in Qarth, and there are no gods here.

[ Only monsters. ]

My entire life. [ She usually would seem more angry or bitter about this, but it seems that nothing can darken her mood today. ] My brother and I were spirited away from the place where I was born just before it was attacked. We had to live in Essos until now.

[ Viserys hadn't made it back to Westeros, of course, but he was never going to make it to the Iron Throne. ]

Yes. Once, they could all ride on my shoulders. [ A long time ago.

She laughs lightly at the request, nodding. ]

You can. He won't harm you.

( Caught up in the dream, the name, the face all register as something she should know, but they don't. It hovers out of her grasp in the same way the field's identity does. Just bare, non-descript swathes of grass and a mist hanging around the space. )

No idea.

( But there's a house in the distance, one she recognises from the tiny silhouette and Kate's face lights up, a joy that's almost childish in its innocence as she turns away from Rosen and darts towards it. Better get moving, but don't worry, somehow the dream will always allow her to be followed no matter how fast she runs. The faces of adults come into view - the ones from the stands before; her curly-haired father, holding a plush elephant toy, and her short mother, in the same bank uniform Kate saw her wear every morning. Her paint-splattered aunt and uncle, laughing and telling her to hurry up, already!

Perhaps it should have been easier to see it coming, when the air hangs so thick with mist and carries a cold promise of something that's just ever so slightly off. Maybe it would hurt less to watch the house fade, to see each of their bodies crumple to the ground, lifeless and pale, before they're swallowed by the soil.

Kate skids to a halt, and their surroundings seem even more bare, trees stripped of leaves and the horizon flat and uniform. )

I don't need the hel- Ow ( His bragging's quickly cut off by the way Kate darts in close and reaches up - tiptoes and all, being a foot shorter than your asshole brother is a pain - to clip Marc around the back of the head. )

He's the one tryin' for the guard, so.

( May as well give him a challenge. )

( The group of them band together slowly, and expressions of confusion give way to something more serious. Something darker, expressions of people who've been through too much too fast, where there's no more room for the joy or brightness that was present only moments ago. It all disappears with the stadium, and the air around them feels heavier than it should be, as though it carries the weight of a thousand sins in it.

Kate notices the blue a moment too late, catches the last trails of it disappearing further into the mist. )

... Were that-?

( And it's the woman with the thick, black hair who speaks, her voice carrying all the certainty of someone who already knows how this will go, and all the remorse of someone who wishes she didn't: )

You'll never catch him. He's gone.

[Thankfully, this guy can't in fact deal with three kids at once, and when he goes forward for Kate, the twins duck around and give him a swift kick to the back of his knees. He goes down hard, and one of the elves lets out a peal of laughter as the other is already hurrying underneath the wagon, grabbing for something underneath. The man sputters, crawling forward towards Kate to grab her, but it looks like sidestepping him would be plenty easy.

The elf who's still behind him hops once, like they're about to bolt, and looks back towards her. If Kate can tell the difference, it's Lup, looking almost excited at this turn of events.]

Time to go!

[She goes bolting around the front at the same time Taako re-emerges from under the wagon, clutching two bundles of something tightly wrapped in cloth. It's then that the man, still on the ground, surges out and grabs Taako's leg. He shrieks, twisting in his grip, and something bright begins to shine in his hand.]

"I don't-" Know. But she cuts herself off as she turns around, as if trying to find their way out and only seeing a wall. She sucks in air and tastes dirt and decay, and her shoulders raise in immediate response.

"... The Underground." Somehow the dream seems to carry the meaning of that, the capital letter implied in the word, the strong idea that they're not welcome here. It carries the weight of battles fought and lives taken as the noise gets closer still-

And passes them by, a group of something that can barely be seen in the darkness dragging something heavy. Something that grunts and groans and causes Kate to take a step back, her eyes flaring bright with power, following the direction of the noise. It's enough to reveal the legs of someone being pulled forward, as though held captive and being moved.

"Shit."

That could be. [ Maybe others were kept as relics and only needed to be reunited with a true Targaryen in order to hatch...

Speaking of hatching: ]

You... didn't? [ Perhaps it isn't so surprising, since this dragon can talk, but - ] Then, how were you born?

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Event Log: Dreamwalker the Second

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Actually, he trusts her, but he's not so sure about Námo. XD

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She is now pouting because you think she can't convince her husband XD

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ffft wrong icon

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... that last tag should have said loose an arrow W O W

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