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

Rey.

[circumitus]

[OOC: Placeholder for individual dream stuff! If you need to hit me up, take a gander at my plotting comment or contact me personally if you'd like to do something special. PMs work, too!]

Rage: The Sky Prison. (OTA)

[circumitus]

You wake up in a cell.

If you're expecting a normal prison, this is not a place that one would recognize. It's cold, damp, the metal whines and hums. Muffled noises of cries and yells echo through the empty space, indiscernible between the ten-by-ten foot walls that confine you. The ugly gray jumpsuit is definitely not the attire that you went to bed in, with numbers stitched into the back that you can't see, but they bear the identification S██.023; it differs from subject to subject.

Might as well get comfortable, because you're going to be here for a while. Scream, yell, bang on the doors; maybe even try to open the grating underneath you. No one comes, save for the occasional heavy footfalls that clank outside the only steel door with a slider. At some point, food passes through that opening; it's a tray of fruits, nuts, and vegetables, like a salad just thrown together. Nothing one would expect from a place like this, except for a side of some sweet applesauce-like paste and a cup of water. Eat up, drink, you'll probably need it for energy.

After what feels to be days, the locks in the cell door whine and unlatch -- and then open.

Light pours in from outside, outlining the shape of two individuals. One of them is a pale-faced woman wearing a helmet covering her mouth and black riot armor over her body. On the surface, she appears to be human. But upon a closer look, her eyes are wrong. Glowing, iridescent, almost beautiful.

The figure beside the woman is a machine, nine-feet tall, lanky and bearing steel rods at its sides that spark when it draws it into its hand-shaped limbs.

"Put it down," the woman orders the machine, clear in the meaning that she is referring to you as 'it'. "Then prep it for extraction."

Maybe you're weak, tired, or just furious from the boredom of being cooped up for god-knows-how-long, but the machine comes for you. It doesn't give you much time before it swings the metal rod, electricity sparking from its metal, and proceeds to start beating you down. The question now is: Will you fight, or will you submit?

Rage

[roseofthetyrells]

[Margaery has spent more time in a prison cell than anyone would expect a queen to have spent, so the surroundings aren't quite as shocking as they might be to anyone else. she's learned that it's useless to scream, useless to bang on the door, useless to ask for mercy, useless to do anything but wait. wait for food, wait for water . . . wait for the "tender attentions" of the guards.

so she waits.

she waits until the woman and the machine enter the room. then, Margaery coils up and prepares herself for the worst which has surely come. she's not going to be such easy prey this time.

the first strike hits her in the ribs and she feels bone cracking, but she doesn't let that stop her. she's like a hellcat, hitting back and spitting mad. she's not going down without a fight]

[circumitus]

[Margaery's struggles would be a valiant effort against a flesh and blood guard. Unfortunately, the machine has neither of those things, nor pain receptors towards the attack on it. It's only staggered a little before it swings the electric rod over, smacking Margaery in the side to send a stunning, electric jolt through her body.]

Don't make this any harder than it has to be. [The woman sighs behind her mask, eyes rolling as a screen projects from a device on her wrist. It appears to be a communications system, but much different from the phones of Hadriel.] Containing Number S02.023 for processing.

[roseofthetyrells]

[the rod hits the same side it hit before, ensuring that those ribs are broken. the electricity shoots through her and she screams in pain. she curls in on herself protectively, then she tries getting past the machine to the woman behind it]

May you go to the seven hells! [Margaery screams in rage] Processing?! What is that? You're not doing that to me!

[circumitus]

[The woman doesn't even bother looking up to make eye contact with Margaery as she scrolls through the screens projected on her wrist brace. Before she can make it, the mechanical sentry seizes Margaery by the arms, twisting them behind her back.

[Finally, the woman makes a sound that vaguely resembles a laugh.] There are no hells for us, let alone seven.

[And their "God" is of a different kind entirely.]

You don't need to worry about the details. I would think that most humans would jump at the opportunity for immortality, though... [Her eyebrows scrunch in thought.] Suppose they don't have much of a choice. No matter.

[She jerks her head to the catwalk outside of the cell, gesturing for the sentry to take the prisoner out.]

[roseofthetyrells]

[Margaery screeches as her arms are yanked behind her. she tries kicking out towards the woman. broken ribs are no, she still has some fight in her]

[she grits out] There are always hells. And you are bound for at least one of them.

[Margaery doesn't believe in gods. not anymore]

[she gives a short laugh] Immortality? Really? There is no such thing. And I told you, I'm not going along with your plans.

[Margaery goes completely limp, making it drag her. she's trying to make this as hard as possible on them]

[circumitus]

Maybe to you there are.

[It's pointless to debate synthe philosophies to a human with a set code of beliefs of their own, and she can tell when such a topic will lead nowhere. The synthe falls quiet, turning down a narrowed catwalk leading to a yellow lift just outside, but they pass that, being on the bottom level of a series of cell blocks that are at least fifty feet overhead. It's quiet, quieter than one would expect in a prison, but it nevertheless feels as such. If nothing else, Margaery's protests fill a certain void.]

We aren't asking. [As Margaery drags along, the woman walks, and the machine follows, carrying the prisoner across the metal grated flooring. They're bounded for a pair of sliding doors, leading to a light blue pod. The walls are glass-like, the outside surrounded by mist -- clouds. Thousands and thousands of sky and nothing, just below them when they enter.

[The woman touches a glowing panel, hits a few numbers, and the doors shut behind them as soon as the machine hauls Margaery inside. It throws its prisoner to the floor.]

[roseofthetyrells]

Shut up!

[Margaery certainly isn't quiet while she's being dragged along. she's spitting insults and Westerosi profanities and physically impossible things the woman(?) can do to herself. and she's not doing this to make anyone else happy]

How dare you? [when she's carried rather than dragged, she kicks out at the machine, the other person.

Margaery cranes her neck to try and get a better look at the pods. they look impossibly flimsy to her and like there's no way they can hold the weight of an adult woman. her struggles increase.

as soon as she's throw in, she tries to get to her feet to get out]

bring it on

[citytraveler]

The lights are so bright when Kyrii first opens his eyes. His HUD isn't functioning— it glitches and times out on every scan. He sits up and leans back against the wall, still trying to get a look around the bland confines of the cell. Eventually he closes his eyes to wait out the errors. To give himself time to think...

This isn't the cave. At least not a part of it that he's seen yet.

Is this the City? Was he returned somehow?

Would Cibo come for him? How long would he have to wait?

A very familiar feeling; to wait. He can feel time tick by. Minutes. Then hours. And hours. And hours... He doesn't move. He hardly breathes. He just waits. The aroma of the food is what opens his eyes after those many hours. He doesn't need it. At least not for some time yet. But it's a combination that he normally wouldn't find in any slum in the City.

The mechanism of the door draws his eyes to it. He stands for the first time since he woke to stare at the intruders coming from the light.

Extraction.

He isn't tired. He isn't angry either.

But he's done waiting. And that door is open.

When the machine comes, Kyrii instantly brings his arms up. Though he didn't anticipate the speed of the rod connecting with his arm. It stings through his body. Alerts pop up in red to bring his attention to the voltage and point of contact.

His afflicted hand turns to grip the rod and pull it downward, not expecting to imbalance the metal-beast but open up any other spot for his other hand to latch onto tightly and tear away at. If he can just disrupt a sensor to rip the right cable...

[circumitus]

The machine barely staggers. Not only is it incapable of surprise, it's obvious that this isn't the first attempt a Number has made at fighting back. Trying to escape. This one has been processed into the system as a synthetic himself. A defected anda by the name of Ky-91 that attempts to identify itself by Kyrii. The woman is not even deterred as she pulls up a database from a screen projected from her wrist, all the while her mechanical partner continues to wrestle against the prisoner.

Without hesitation, the machine moves to hurl its entire body weight against Kyrii, throwing him into the cell wall. Its free 'hand' goes for the side of his head. Metal impacts half of his face.

"Fighting is only a minor inconvenience to us, you know," the woman says from the doorway, not even bothering to draw her attention to the struggle. "We could have dismantled you already if we wanted to."

But they didn't. Resources such as synthetic bodies all the way out here are a precious commodity, which they do not have the luxury of wasting.

[citytraveler]

Every grip he has slips away as he comes into contact with the wall. For a brief moment he has just enough give against the machine to push off the wall and gain some leverage. Until he feels the cold metal connect, effectively slamming his head roughly back into the wall. His vision malfunctions from the impact.

A soft reset of his optics leaves him in a stunned few seconds where nothing he sees can really be processed. He doesn't move.

Bare human eyes wander over to see the woman. Her voice muffled in his ringing ears.

[circumitus]

It doesn't hesitate. It acts without conscience, armed only with a sense of logic to determine the best course of action, and how to do it.

So the machine does what it's programmed for -- restraining the prisoner, first throwing him on the ground, then drawing his arms behind his back. It keeps him that way for a moment, awaiting further orders from the woman.

"It's odd that they had you cordoned in the S-Ward. Typically your kind goes straight to an X-Cell, but..." But the data is missing. Classified. How strange.

The screen projecting from the woman's wrist shuts off, and her arms drop to her side.

"No matter. Come now, we're late."

Whether he moves on his own accord or has to be dragged, the mechanical sentry begins dragging Kyrii out of the prison cell, onto a narrow, grated catwalk. They're at least fifty feet from the bottom level, with several yards' worth of distance to a yellow lift, ready to take them downward.

[citytraveler]

Kyrii's legs fumble at first while trying to find the purchase of grating beneath his feet. He resists a little less, especially with his arms pressed firmly behind his back, and walks at the machine's pace. Even if a millisecond of opportunity opened up to him, he would need to be careful not to break his arms in the process. He wouldn't get very far then.

He looks at the area around them as soon as his HUD boots up. Nothing but the same errors. It doesn't make sense.

"Where..." He says quietly, not particularly in the woman's direction.

[circumitus]

For a prison, the cell block is eerily quiet. It might be because the voices remain muffled behind a few feet of solid metal, but that isn't a mystery one might want to learn the answer to anytime soon.

"Shut up, 91," the synthetic woman orders the prisoner, and the machine only tightens its hold of Kyrii. Were he human, he might break. But his kind are more durable than the others.

Similar to the pipes in the cell, the wall above the door itself is also marked 'S26.049'. Six floors lined with fifty locked doors bore similar numbers, but each in consecutive order from 21 to 26.

Being on the top floor, they're taken from the lift and through some sliding doors leading to a light blue pod. Glass windows offer a view of the outside for the first time.

The pod itself appears to be attached to a girder box system, as were all of the transport pods within the prison. Rather than traveling through corridors and elevators, this is the only way to get from one part of the prison to the other.

The glass floor reveals a shroud of mist surrounding the pod itself -- no, not mist. Clouds. Maybe, if the glass were to break somehow, one would fall and fall down this near-space sky and this would be all over. It would be a fitting end for a creature that valued its life.

As such, the woman does not.

When the double doors of the pod pry open again, a long and metal corridor stretches onward into a yawning darkness. On the other side, someone is already there.

[foundafamily]

Prison isn't new to Firo, but this prison is. He can't see his familiar neighbors from Alcatraz, and he can't hear the not-so-gentle lullaby of the guards practicing their shooting. So when he finally sees something vaguely resembling a human, he decides to risk speaking up to ask what the hell is going on.

"Hey, lady--" Oh. Okay, so that thing is firing up some sort of weapon. Maybe he should've said 'Ma'am' instead? It's hard to know when you've never dealt with a police matron before--and certainly never a female prison guard. Firo has just a brief moment to think about how horrific that would've been back in Alcatraz before the sparking rod comes at him.

Running on instinct, he swings his one arm to block the part of the robot holding the rod--whatever is most like its "arm" rather than the rod itself.

[circumitus]

The machine is programmed for this. That's what it's built for -- to snuff out sedition and uprising before it can stick out. As Firo goes to block the rod, it slams its other hand-shaped appendage into his face. The force alone is enough to knock him into the wall.

"The more you fight, the worse it's going to hurt," the woman in the mask says, apathy allowing a steady distance between her and the Numbers here. She pulls up his prisoner data on the screen projected from her wrist, and...

Odd. There's not much to say about this one. He must be a new body.

[foundafamily]

Firo grunts as he hits the wall, breathing out to move with the impact. All the same, his brain is rattled, and it takes him a moment to prop himself back up and gather a response.

"Oh, yeah?"

What he does gather isn't very intelligent.

"What do you want?"

Are they here to throw him into the hole? He doesn't see how it'd be that much worse than this cell anyway.

[circumitus]

"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.

[foundafamily]

Given that he seems to be in deep trouble already, Firo doesn't hold back a parting shot as he's restrained. "You coulda' just asked nicely."

Seriously. What's with people these days.

He scans the area, trying to get an idea of who's in the cells, if anyone, and where they might be going. He's not so sure he likes the idea of 'transport pod.' Wherever he's going, he's pretty sure he's not going to be released just like that.

[circumitus]

People are rude.

Even ruder is the manner that the sentry handles Firo. While it is clearly equipped to handle those who struggle with all their might, even his compliance is met with some roughness, either pushing or dragging him down a cold, metal corridor before he has a chance to get a good look at the cell block.

Not that there was much to see -- the doors were solid, sealed with valves that secured the inside, same as Firo's.

Eventually, the hallway ends. A mostly transparent door slides open from both sides, leading into a glassy, oval pod inside.

Standing by one of the doors is another figure, dressed like the woman that had escorted Firo out of his room. But her face is more obscured behind a mask. Her metal armor making her only appear mechanical at first, but she's not like the sentry or the previous woman.

[pocketspa]

At first, Taako doesn't even realize he's dreaming.

He's never been in a place like this- been caught breaking the law before, sure, but when you're living from job to job for a hundred years with only one other person, that's par for the course. What's getting him is there's always been a way out, before. He tries Knock, first, but the lock doesn't click open like it should. He can't risk a huge area of effect spell in here, or the splash damage might kill him. So he waits. Keeps himself steady, and waits. He doesn't have his spellcasting focus, no wand or staff, which is gonna make it harder, but the second someone comes for him, you're damn right he intends to fight back.

The light blinds him a little, considering elven eyes are used to seeing in the darkness, but as soon as something starts coming at him, he steadies himself, hands gripped tight.

"Oh I've got a fuckin' idea for you--" He doesn't have time to get off any full one-liners before he's pointing his hands forward, casting Cone of Cold, ice and freezing air blasting forward in an attempt to stop them in their tracks and let him escape.

[circumitus]

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.

[pocketspa]

He scrambles as soon as they're stopped, eyes widening a bit at the damn scope of the thing. Of course, he doesn't have any of his goddamn stuff, which complicates things-- but he's light on his feet and doing his best at this point. He's got invisibility spells, but with only three or so uses at a minute each, he's got to be conservative about his use of them.

His eyes flick up and down on the stairs, before deciding to fuck this entirely, he needs to get the lay of his surroundings. He presses his hands to himself, casting Polymorph, as he quickly becomes a small mockingbird and flies upwards, aiming to find some hole of escape.

[circumitus]

Fortunately, the variety of pipes and ventilation offer more than enough space for something as small as a little bird to navigate. It's clear that this prison is not meant to hold shapeshifting elves in cages, but other more mundane captives.

If he follows them, he'll find that the passages are dank, winding, and cold. Even colder is the whistling of air that seems to direct towards the outside. A bird would have only but to follow the wind.