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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

SORROW (SPOILERS)

"I'm never going to see my son again."

You're crammed into a containment cell with at least a dozen other people, their expressions running the gamut from sad to terrified. You're cold and hungry and don't remember how you got here. The man who spoke is sitting on the tile floor, head in his hands. Drake crouches next to him, gripping his shoulder. His voice is gentle and his eyes are determined when he replies. "Hey, you gotta try to calm down a little bit, buddy, all right? We're gonna find a way out of this."

The man shakes his head, despairing, voice hitching as he continues. "He thinks I killed myself. He's never gonna get over it."

Drake presses his lips together for a moment, draws breath to say something else when a door slides open in the hall outside the cell -- men in scrubs and lab coats come into view, struggling with a man -- or something that used to be a man -- at the end of a dog catcher's stick. They're forcing him along using jabs from a cattle prod and he's thrashing and snarling and frothing at the mouth, trying to get at his captors. They shove him into an adjacent cell.

"That's the guy they took yesterday... what did they do to him?"

A lab tech turns away from his previous rat and addresses the people in your cell. "Now, which one of you freaks wants to try cure version number three, huh? Eenie, meenie, miny--"

"Moe." Drake stands up and steps to the glass, squaring his shoulders and tilting his chin high. He can't let anyone else be taken away, turned into whatever that monster across the hallway is. He has to protect these people and maybe, just maybe, buy them enough time to be rescued. "Three's my lucky number."

"Look at you. The brave one."

"Why don't you put the cattle prod down? We can have a brave-off." The tech hesitates, looking him up and down, and Drake nods knowingly. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Get down on your knees." Drake obeys and the tech calls out to his teammate at a control panel. "Door." The glass of the cell slides away and another tech hooks the loop of the stick around Drake's neck, tightens it and drags him to his feet. "Come on, let's go."

You can follow Drake and the techs down the hall, into a sterile-looking exam room. They don't seem to notice your presence as they direct him onto a steel table, fasten straps and cuffs around him to keep him contained. His expression is stoic and unreadable and he lies perfectly still as they set up an IV pole, pushing his shirt sleeve up.

"Cheer up," a woman in a lab coat says as she taps the inside of his elbow, "You're getting the cure."

Drake ignores them, closes his eyes, and they don't even bother to swab his arm when they slide the needle into his vein. Like they know already that it won't make a difference. The drip started, the tech steps back, and Drake's eyes open. His gaze locks with yours and you can see he's not afraid. Instead, there's sorrow in his eyes. The knowledge that this is it for him -- he'll never see anyone he loves again, and he didn't get to say goodbye.

You can watch the light in his eyes fade away. At which point, the techs will turn to you, holding restraints and needles.

Do you want the cure too, rat?

HOPE

You're walking the streets of Hadriel, Drake at your side. He's got a bag slung over his shoulder and he's smiling, eyes bright and hopeful. It'll take a moment to get your bearings but you'll realize that you're headed for the colosseum and as you get closer you realize you're not the only ones -- other figures merge into your path, all also bearing luggage. Drake seems to know them all, clapping this fellow on the back or leaning in kiss this woman's cheek. Some of the faces are familiar from around the city, people that are actually close to Drake in real life -- Ephemera, Lup, Brennan, Henry -- but others are more elusive to your memory. Maybe they're just faces Drake's mind is supplying for him to have friends in the dream. Anyway. You're going to the colosseum.

In the center of the arena, instead of new arrivals or the monster of the month, there's a glimmering curtain of light. And you know, instantly, that it's the Door. People are here because they're going home.

Drake's not. Which is why this dream is hopeful.

He drifts away from you to talk to his friends, and you can't make out what they're saying but you can tell it's not goodbye.

There's a moment, at the beginning, where Ephemera isn't worried. It's not the first bind he's been in - not by a long shot - and so long as he's alive and mobile, he can fight. And if he can fight, he can survive. Same goes for whoever is standing next to him. And if they can't escape, then they'll go down hard and make their enemies pay for every second.

Only Drake doesn't fight. And no matter how hard Ephemera tries, he can't land a blow. None of the people even see him.

Just Drake.

Nothing is said. And in the end it's almost peaceful.

Ephemera sucks in a harsh breath. "No."

It doesn't end like this. It can't.

And the techs turn to him.

Ephemera shivers all over. "I'm going to kill all of you."

They laugh. Don't believe him.

They don't laugh when he delivers on the promise. He does it quick. Goes back to Drake with blood on his hands and undoes the restraints because somehow, this time he can touch things. He can touch Drake's face, put two fingers on his pulse and be unable to calculate the results. Ephemera twitches. He's not in armor. It's just him and Drake is so very still.

"Stay," Ephemera pleads. "Please, just hold on."

It's the blood, the warmth of Ephemera's touch, his scent so close, that causes the zombie to stir. Because this isn't Drake, not anymore. His once-bright eyes are foggy and lifeless, no recognition whatsoever as he looks up at the human speaking to him.

The thing that used to be Drake is hungry.

In the blink of an eye it launches itself up off the table, grabbing for Ephemera's head and snarling. Better wake up before you get eaten, man. Or you could put this thing down.

"No--"

It happens fast. Drake is gone and then, suddenly, something is animating him. He's fast, Freelancer-quick, and sure. No hesitation at all. And knowingly or not, the thing with Drake's face goes straight for his good eye.

He can't see. Gets thrown into the wall hard, no armor to take the impact.

Act. React. And--

~~I'm so sorry~~

Ephemera wakes up thrashing.

Drake's had this dream many times, since winding up in Hadriel. Sometimes there are little variations, but he always dies. Always comes back. This time, though... this time was different. Ephemera was there, and in general it's all more vivid in his memory than usual. It doesn't feel like it was a dream at all, he feels like he just lived it. Can remember the feeling of his friend's good eye crushing under his thumb. He shudders. Climbs out of bed and goes to get some water.

It's nearly 3am but he considers his cell phone anyway... no, he shouldn't call and wake Ephemera up. It was just a nightmare. Don't be stupid, he scolds himself.

Breathe. Count on the exhale. Remember where you are.

Ephemera goes through his post-nightmare routine, which is to cram himself into the nearest corner, walls on both sides, and count until he can think rationally. Sometimes he has to go to three hundred. Sometimes only fifteen. Tonight it's forty-five, knees pulled up tight to his chest as he counts on the exhale.

Breathe. Let it go.

This is Hadriel and he had a bad fucking nightmare, and now it's over. It was just a fucking dream.

Just a bad dream.

Yeah. Fuck that. He's not going back to sleep. Ephemera grabs a sweatshirt and goes into the kitchen, snagging his phone on the way. He's going to--paint or something.

He taps out a quick text. It was just a fucking dream. And he's not freaked enough to go knocking on Drake's door. But if he sends a text and Drake responds then that's just--fine.

you awake?

He's leaning against the kitchen counter with a glass of water, the shakes only just faded away, when his phone chimes.

...okay, what the fuck are the odds of that? In Hadriel?

yeah
bad dream?

Ephemera exhales sharply. Bad dream. Hah.

felt real
come over?

Yeah there's no way this is a coincidence. Hadriel's done something, and Drake's pretty sure that Ephemera saw... well. Fuck, at least he'd told him already. It'll make things a little easier.

same here
i'll be right there

He doesn't go back into the bedroom to get clothes, not wanting to wake Liv. Instead he just pulls on his boots and a sweatshirt that was hanging by the door, and heads over in his pajama pants.

Good, that's good. He's coming and then Ephemera can see for sure that Drake isn't--

Stop. Breathe. It was a dream.

It hadn't felt like a dream. Worse, somehow. Sharper. He puts his hand over his good eye, remembering how that thing had--

Ephemera shivers. Remembers the sudden flash of pain and how he'd been in the dark. The slick wet sound of his eye giving way. He's never been afraid of losing his vision before. It wasn't important. He had his HUD to correct, to give him proximity alerts and tell him where his enemies are standing. But he didn't have the helmet in his dream and it was so easy for the thing that looked like Drake to get him. Go for his weak point. And like before, he wasn't fast enough. Couldn't stop Drake from dying. Couldn't fight back when it mattered.

Just a dream. Just a fucking bad dream.

He's waiting when Drake knocks on the door and opens it almost too quickly. Immediately he reaches for Drake's arm, looking for injection marks, but jerks back. Don't do that. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I didn't--you're okay. You're okay, right?"

"I'm okay," Drake confirms quickly, catching Ephemera's hand as it reaches for his arm and stepping inside. He nearly trips on a dropcloth, his gaze a little too focused on his friend's good eye. His fingers twitch.

"Are you okay?"

Ephemera swallows hard, backing up as Drake steps inside. It's fine. Drake's hand is strong on his, sure and real. "Had a really fucked up dream."

He has a feeling Drake had the same one.

"Me too. I think it was more than a dream."

Since yeah, they're. On the same page. Unfortunately.

"Fucking Hadriel..."

"Fucking Hadriel," Ephemera agrees, trying not to let his voice shake. He wants to laugh suddenly. Tell a stupid joke. Something to cut the tension, make this easier. Like he didn't just watch Drake fucking die on some medical table. What comes out is sharp and certain, and not at all joking. "You don't die like that."

No. Not like that.

Drake goes still and quiet. Because he did die like that. It's already happened, it's done. He doesn't regret the choice he made to protect the others, and honestly, he isn't even angry. He's just... sad.

"I already did, man." But it's fine, it's fine because he's alive here. They both are. Drake lifts their hands, squeezes hard enough to hurt, to feel the bones in Ephemera's hand creak. "Denial won't change it, but it's not now. Right?"

Ephemera shivers, watching Drake squeeze their joined hands. Hears the creak more than he feels it. He wonders if Drake can feel the pins holding his bones together. Remembers the sound they made after Chica snapped them back into place, one after another. Like breaking a branch, but slowly. Only a little at a time. "Just a fucked up dream."

"Ephemera..." He doesn't want to argue over it, doesn't have the will or energy to argue that yes, he's dead. Yes, that's how it happened. As much as he needs Ephemera to accept it, he just doesn't have it in him to push.

So he doesn't.

He lets go instead, scrubbing at his face.

"God, I'm never getting back to sleep..."

Drake lets go and Ephemera only hesitates a moment before reaching for him, putting his hand on Drake's arm. Keeping contact. The dream scared him. It lingered after it was done and even now, when Ephemera is certain that he's awake, pieces of it linger around the corners. Just out of sight. "I know," he says, quietly. "I know."

Because parts of it were true. Drake did die.

"It's not here."

Ephemera isn't sure he believes that, but he wants to. Desperately.

"It's not," he agrees, relieved that his friend isn't actually in some sort of denial. It's just grief, more likely. Not wanting to accept it even after he saw it himself. Maybe especially because he did.

"It's not here and it probably won't be, I'm not gonna turn into that thing." It's his worst fear that he will, if he's honest. That for some reason they'll go hungry and he'll hurt people, hurt Ephemera. "But if it ever happens, you aim straight here, okay?" He lifts a hand, points to his forehead. "It's the only way."

Ephemera meets Drake's eyes then. Headshot. Clean. And he makes a decision then.

"I'll do it. If it ever comes to that. And then I'll kill every one of those fuckers."

Drake Holloway | OTA | cw: human experimentation, death (SPOILERS)

Sorrow

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hope;

Re: hope;

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