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

Aren Brosca | Open

[paragonbrosca]

Sorrow (cw: bigotry, slurs, crime, poverty, prostitution, starvation, hopelessness)

Dust Town.

Just a moment in the area and it's made obvious that this is the seedy underbelly of the great dwarven city towering above. Here, massive halls and brightly gleaming armor give way to grimy hovels and beggar's rags. There are no shouts from merchants hawking their wares, or town criers relaying the latest news. Instead, the sounds permeating the area are mournful pleas for food or coin to buy such, ragged and incurable coughing, or the slurs of the guards who seem more interested in keeping these desperate people in their place. An interesting fact: one and all, those of the neighborhood sport a face brand. The guards do not.

As Aren makes her way through the neighborhood, daggers on her back and wearing leathers that certainly don't match the quality of the guards, but protect her just a little bit. At least in theory. The brand on her own face and the sneers of guards as she passes make it clear that protection is paper-thin. "Get out of my face, brand." "Stand back, I don't want to catch any of your diseases." "Vermin." When it's not a guard spitting at her, there are occasional mutters from a fellow 'brand' about her being 'one of Beraht's people', but she ignores this, ignores it all. This is the only life she's ever known, and it will never change.

Rage (cw: violence, likely gore, betrayal)

Ostagar

"The plan will work, Your Majesty."
"Of course it will. The Blight ends here."

Aren should be traveling with Alistair to the Tower of Ishal to light the signal fire for Loghain's troops. She did, in her waking life, but here and now she stands with her commander, Duncan, and King Cailan as the army awaits in the dismal night for the approach of darkspawn troops. The air is thick with tension and the incense that a Chantry sister is waving, and there is little noise other than the barks of mabari much like her own (absent) Barkspawn. Everyone knows this is where they break the darkspawn forces...or are broken in turn.

In time, it becomes clear that this is one of those latter circumstances. Later, in the desperate clash that ensues, Aren looks up and can see that the signal beacon is ablaze. This is where Loghain and his men are to move in and strike...except they don't. She watches helpless, as his army marches...away from the darkspawn, away from battle. The forces left behind cannot stand against that onslaught alone. Aren, separated from king and commander, tries to reach them but intervening darkspawn she must fight and defeat in the mean time ensure that she's only arriving in time to see the Ogre crush the life out of the king, producing a massive spray of blood. Duncan, the first person outside her sister to show her real kindness, falls soon after avenging him.

And something in Aren snaps. She can't reach Loghain, can't drive a blade in his heart like she so desperately wants to, but she can take down the Hurlock who just cut her mentor down. Unleashing a scream of rage, she charges, heedless of danger and ignoring the very real fact that there's no way the battle can be won now. She wants blood.

Sorrow (cw: implied battle, gore, corpse defiling, dead mabari)

Ostagar again. The site is far different from the other night, for those who witnessed it during battle. Now it's daylight, revealing collapsed tents, charred structures, darkspawn 'architecture' and scattered corpses. Some of those corpses are intact, while the darkspawn evidently had 'fun' with the others. Mabari aren't excluded in this number, a few of the great beasts sprawled by their masters. The deafening clash of the previous night's battle is replaced by an eerie silence.

Aren continues walking and doesn't stop until she comes across the sight of King Cailan's blood-soaked, crucified corpse set up on the bridge leading to the Tower of Ishal. She shudders but forces herself not to look away as that lump in her throat forms, her hands forming fists and her knuckles turning white. This is what came of believing the Blight would end so quickly, or being caught by forces outside their control. A logical part of her knows that there's only so much she could have done, but it's hard, too hard, to justify that to a corpse.

The voice that emerges from her is unsteady, rough. "...he needs a pyre, I have to give him a pyre. Not this." Duncan, too, if she can find him.

Sorrow

[outofthefire]

[Laura has never seen, never even imagined this type of carnage before. oh, sure, she had her teachers droning on and on about wars and battlefields, but this is beyond her.

she wanders up to a dead soldier? knight? she doesn't know and it probably doesn't even matter. he's dead. he's dead and his eyes are wide open and staring at her. it gives her creeps, so she tries to close them. she can't. they're frozen open, so she stumbles backwards, nearly falling over another corpse in the process. she screams and it echoes back to her, mocking her with its sound.

she starts to run, dodging bodies and weapons and shrapnel along the way, only to find herself funneled onto a bridge. a bridge with a crucified man in the center of it and Aren there, saying that he needs a pyre.]

--what? Why? Who is he?

[paragonbrosca]

[Staring upward, Aren turns abruptly, staring at the woman who definitely wasn't here when she had returned to Ostagar. But someone who isn't a darkspawn or a corpse is a welcome change from...all this. Clearing her throat, she stares back up at the crucified corpse of a man.]

King Cailan.

He died when his father-in-law betrayed us, and we lost the battle. [She wants to summon some spark of rage upon recalling that, but all that she feels is this emptiness. They're dead and gone, the battle lost. Nothing she does can change that.] He...I remember when I first got here, I was a nobody. He didn't have to acknowledge me at all, but he did. He treated me like a person, called me friend. [There's that lump in her throat again.] He wanted glory, sure, but actually he seemed to care about people. What they did to him....

[She can't take it anymore, just staring and doing nothing. So she begins to use her blades to climb up.] I gotta cut him down. Keep a lookout, okay?

[outofthefire]

[Laura's eyes widen at the explanation of how he died] His--his own father-in-law let that happen? [bitter laugh] I guess I shouldn't be surprised at what fathers will do.

[she listens to the rest of the explanation and her face softens a little] He sounds like a good man. I'm sorry he died.

Okay. I don't know what I can do, but I'll keep an eye out for you.

[paragonbrosca]

...thanks.

[The subdued word is far from her usual cheerful rambling, but it's all she can muster for the moment. When she's hauled herself up, she sheathes a blade, using her free hand to yank out the spike holding him in place, one by one. For a small woman, she seems to have considerable strength as she manages to work them out and still hold her grip.]

Okay, step back. I don't want him to fall on you. Ugh, they left him to rot....

[outofthefire]

[she watches Aren climb her way up and work to free the body of the dead king and steps back as requested]

So, these darkspawn you mentioned. They did this?

[paragonbrosca]

...yeah. [Her words come in between huffs of breath, while she works.] There was a huge horde of them, the start of a Blight. We failed, and they spread across Ferelden. It was all for nothing....

[The spikes fall to the ground one by one, with thuds all the louder for the pervasive silence around them. And then she begins to lower the king down, trying to hold on until she no longer can and the corpse falls. When it does, she leaps the rest of the way, landing beside it. She turns over his corpse and arranges it to be a little more dignified, then pauses.]

...I need to find Duncan, too. He was my mentor, he stood with the king to the last. He has to be around, somewhere.

Rage

[fadeling]

Cole had never seen Ostagar before--he hadn't been there and hadn't been able to get there. It was too late now, anyway, and there was nothing but ghosts left. At least in the real world. Usually he could tell dreams but in this pace they were different. There wasn't a Fade so there shouldn't be dreams but there still were. There always were. They made sure of that. Dreams were easy.

Even never having been there, it isn't that hard to tell where it is, what's going on. Even he knows the story. Everyone does. Even the ghosts like him. It would be impossible not to. The repercussions rang and reverberated through the whole world. There were still spirits there singing sadness.

At first he watches--there's nothing he can do to stop it, nothing a single person or even a spirit can do. It's too late to stop any of it and all he can do is pick up the pieces after. If there's anything left. It isn't until he sees the woman charge that he moves, appearing behind her to watch as she kills the monster. He shouldn't take that away from her.

He at least waits until it's dead before he speaks.

"Terror, torn and tearing, toyed and teased and tantalized. That's what they want, the rage. Don't give it to them."

[paragonbrosca]

It should be weird that she's on the field of battle instead of where she should be, in the tower. It's also weird that there's someone speaking to her, let alone that she can even hear him over the titanic clash all around them. But unless Cole directly engages, the darkspawn don't seem to even notice him. The same would hold true of Aren, but...well, that ever really a likely scenario for her.

Stabbing it a few extra times just because she can, the blood-splattered dwarf woman frowns as she turns around. That wound she thought healed has been torn open anew, and her hurt and fury has to go somewhere. Given a clearer head, she'll feel bad about it, but...right now, there's only pain masquerading as rage. "The king is dead! Duncan is dead! All because Loghain took his men and left! And I'm just supposed to stand around and watch it happen and...do nothing?"

There are so many darkspawn that need stabbing, so many. And a rapidly dwindling amount of Grey Wardens and common soldiers. This isn't a fight that's winnable by any stretch, no matter what she does.

[fadeling]

"No. You should do something." He isn't going to be able to stop her anyway, and the monsters hurt people, even when they aren't real. Are they real? They hurt, and that's real enough. It doesn't matter, really, whether or not its a dream. If it even is. It's hard to tell.

"They want it to hurt so it's angry." He can't even say who he's talking about, but it sounds right. Someone wants something whether it's here or somewhere else. It doesn't matter, really. Either way, they shouldn't have it. He knows that much.

[paragonbrosca]

"Well, yeah, it fucking does hurt!" She scowls as she looks back and the scene blurs a little...before the scenario starts to play out again. This isn't something she can just stand and watch, so she tries to rush the ogre...only to face an invisible barrier, that prevents her from saving the king's life.

"So I'm just supposed to watch this over and over again? What the fuck?!?" She lashes out with her blades, but no matter what she do, she can't touch it. Whirling back around, she stares at the figure in the big hat. "What am I supposed to do, then?"

[fadeling]

"Remember, maybe. It might always hurt but it hurts less if you try." If they want to try. Thy usually don't at first, sometimes they need help. And it's harder when they're looking right at what hurt them in the first place.

He looks around at the battle surrounding them, only half seeing the fighting. They should all be ghosts but they still torment people. Maybe that's all that ghosts are good for.

"Is this what happened?"

[paragonbrosca]

Remember....

Aren clenches her jaw, gripping her blades so tightly that her knuckles turn white. "...sorta. I was in the tower, not the battlefield. We were supposed to light the beacon, so we did. But it made no difference; Loghain left anyway. This place was overrun, and Cailan's corpse was left crucified on the bridge. They left him to rot."

The ogre draws closer to its target, its footsteps making the ground shake. Cailan turns around to face it. Aren growls and swipes again, for all that she might as well be striking air. Run, salroka. Just run. But it's already too late, as she'll witness yet again in a moment.

Sorrow | Dust Town

[dragonsgrasp]

The first thing Kain notices is that he's still underground. But it's different, somehow... The more that he sees of the place, the more it's confirmed that he's not anywhere near Hadriel at the moment. He looks around curiously at the cave's inhabitants, who clearly appear to be dwarves. Except... this is different from the underground that he knows, too, and the dwarves he knows, for that matter.

The moment he sees Aren, it all clicks. Yes, that's right... she's from some other dwarven world, underground still, but... not quite like the one he's been to.

"Aren?" Kain scowls at one of the people hurling insults, then looks toward her. "How dare they treat you in such a way. Perhaps you ought to insult them back."

[paragonbrosca]

That voice...Aren has a destination in mind, but she stops short upon turning and staring at Kain, dumbfounded. The human she'd met earlier, the one who'd helped her fight the ogre. What was he doing here?

Then his words sunk in, and she shakes her head. "Hah. The only thing that'd bring down would be a beating from the guards. And they'd get away with it, too. They have castes, I -we- don't. We're not people to them--"

"Aren, there you are!" Another branded dwarf strides up, and she turns to glance over to her friend, Leske. "You'd better get home. Your mother's at it again, and even Rica can't mellow her out."

"...joy." She rubs her forehead, entirely unenthusiastic.

"And find me after. Beraht has another job for us." He strides away, likewise taking care to steer clear of the guards.

"Fuck this, I'm not dealing with her shit again--" Aren strides the way she came, only to find that no matter where she turns, the path leads her in the same direction. Toward 'home'.

[dragonsgrasp]

Kain is wondering the same thing, about being here. Something just doesn't feel right about the whole thing. He watches as the other dwarf approaches, eyeing them closely and watching Aren's reaction as well. He's willing to follow along, to get a better understanding of this new location, but then... they seem to have somehow gotten turned around. Perhaps the pathways just wind around oddly, somehow, always going back to the same place? Or...

"Is something wrong? I mean... between you and your mother. You don't seem eager to return home." He glances around. "Are we lost, or is this the same place we just passed? Where are we, anyway? is this... your world?" That's impossible, isn't it?

[paragonbrosca]

"You wouldn't be either, trust me." As Leske rushes off, Aren heaves a sigh. She avoids meeting his gaze, not really eager for this moment but fairly certain the dream isn't giving either of them a choice. "You want to meet the embodiment of Dust Town, here we go."

She opens the door upon reaching her former home, intending just to peek in before Rica appears to guilt her. The moment the door opens, they're both inside and Aren's head is inches from where an empty wine bottle shatters against the wall. Her mother, an older, bloated and sour-faced copy of her daughters who can't stop slurring her words, sways at the spot where she got to her feet. The scent of that damned mosswine is everywhere.

"Why are you bothering me again? Didn't I show you what happens when you bother me?!?"

"...I'd like to see you try, old bat." Aren mutters to herself, though Kalah Brosca picks up on it and glares.

"Don't you sass me, you ungrateful brat! I made you and I can make another just like you."

"You're still out of mosswine. Sweet-talking me like this isn't going to change that." Aren crosses her arms, clearly wondering how long it will take for the dream to warp her back here if she tries to leave.

Her mother sniffs, now playing up the wounded party.

"Rica never brings me what I ask for. Doesn't even care that I got my palsy acting up. Can't bring me one little bottle, just for the pain, you know?"

"She's trying to help you--"

Kalah slams her hand down on the table, raising her voice again. "You always defend her! The two of you, always talking behind my back! 'Oh, let's keep everything from Mam, she don't deserve what we got.'"

"Yeah, that's you alright. A real martyr." Aren shoves at the door and steps outside while her mother sways and mutters under her breath. "There's only one thing that's ever stopped her when she's like this. Ten guesses what it is."

[dragonsgrasp]

"A hard hit to the head to knock her out? She seems as if she could use that," Kain remarks, folding his arms. He'd watched the interaction quietly, taking it all in. So... this is where she came from, and how she'd grown up? It sure doesn't seem pleasant. Family is supposed to honor each other, in Kain's view of things. His own father used to be strict at times, but never would he have acted like this. He pushed him hard, but only so that he could make him a better, stronger person. This woman doesn't seem to have any such ambitions. It's... kind of hard to see that.

[paragonbrosca]

Aren snorts at that, almost amused. But the oppressively bleak atmosphere of Dust Town doesn't allow that mood to lift so easily. "Believe me, I've been tempted. But mosswine will do it just the same. Rica won't like it, she'd say it's enabling her and I know she's right. I don't care; if this is how the dream can end, then dammit, that's what I'm going to do."

She pushes away from the door and heads back the way she came, keeping away from beggar and guard alike.

sorrow ; dust town

[closerift]

[ Cecily has never been to Orzammar. The experience is awing, even in a dream... and she knows that it's a dream, has the experience, now, to recognize it. It's why she's wary as she finds herself in this place, but she doesn't produce any weapons, doesn't assume that there will be real danger.

Then: the Warden. Obvious prejudice. Cruelty. ]

Bastards. [ The Inquisitor growls, dark eyes narrowed at the other dwarves who spit on her. There isn't anything she can really do to influence it, but that doesn't mean she won't walk alongside the Warden, agitated on the other woman's behalf. ]

... I'm sorry, [ Cecily offers, suddenly, expression sullen. ] I didn't know much at all about dwarves, aside from what Varric's told me. But, this is...

[ Well, awful. Much of the world is terrible, and people everywhere are prejudiced, but that doesn't mean that anyone deserves it. ]

[paragonbrosca]

This...is what it's always been.

[Aren's voice is flat, trying to squash down whatever emotion she feels about being thrust back here even though it's not as effective as she'd prefer.]

Aren, there you are! [Rica hurries over to them, her words coming out in a rush.] Mother's in rare form tonight, but I have to meet my patron. Can you--

[Aren immediately strides the way she came, only to find that no matter where she turns, the path leads her in the same direction. Toward 'home'.] ...well, shit.

[Rica, as though Aren hadn't just tried to literally escape, stares at her hopefully.] Please? I know Beraht will need you, but...get her to rest. No more mosswine.

[Aren grits her teeth, avoiding Cecily's gaze. The last thing she wants is for anyone to meet her mother. As Rica rushes off, she sighs.] You want to meet the embodiment of Dust Town, here we go.

[closerift]

[ They share that strained parental relationship, and Cecily can only imagine what might be waiting for Aren at home. Since she doesn't have much power to leave the dream (until she wakes up, that is), she stands stiffly, unsure of what to do in this scenario. ]

I can wait outside. [ She offers quietly. ] You shouldn't have to share your memories with a stranger.

[ Or, dreams, as it were. ]

I know that I wouldn't - I don't - want anyone seeing mine, but... [ But, that's kind of just what happens in Hadriel. ]

[paragonbrosca]

Something tells me we're not going to get a choice. But...thanks.

[She opens the door, intending just to peek in so that Rica doesn't just appear again to guilt her. The moment the door opens, they're both inside and Aren's head is inches from where an empty wine bottle shatters against the wall. Her mother, an older, bloated and sour-faced copy of her daughters who can't stop slurring her words, sways at the spot where she got to her feet. The scent of that damned mosswine is everywhere.]

Why are you bothering me again? Didn't I show you what happens when you bother me?!?

...I'd like to see you try, old bat. [Aren mutters to herself, though Kalah Brosca picks up on it and glares.]

Don't you sass me, you ungrateful brat! I made you and I can make another just like you.

You're still out of mosswine. Sweet-talking me like this isn't going to change that. [Aren crosses her arms, clearly wondering how long it will take for the dream to warp her back here if she tries to leave.

Her mother sniffs, now playing up the wounded party.]

Rica never brings me what I ask for. Doesn't even care that I got my palsy acting up. Can't bring me one little bottle, just for the pain, you know?

She's trying to help you--

[Kalah slams her hand down on the table, raising her voice again.] You always defend her! The two of you, always talking behind my back! 'Oh, let's keep everything from Mam, she don't deserve what we got.'

Yeah, that's you alright. A real martyr.

[Unable to just stand there and take anymore, Aren shoves at the door and steps outside while her mother sways and mutters under her breath.]

There's only one thing that's ever stopped her when she's like this. Ten guesses what it is.

[closerift]

[ If she had been born in similar circumstances, then this would be her mother, too. Cecily's jaw tightens, thinking, unbidden, of her own mother and how terrible that relationship was. (Is.) It's easy to be sympathetic to Aren, then, and she follows the dwarf back outside with a level expression. ]

You've taken care of your whole family. [ She states quietly, glancing back at the door. ] ... I hope they're at least silently grateful for it.

[ Since they're not vocally thankful, clearly... ]

How did you come to join the Wardens? [ The Inquisitor asks after a pause, turning back to Aren. ]

[paragonbrosca]

Rica did her part, too. She had to be a noble hunter and get herself pregnant with a boy, to raise up the rest of the family. Stone, she raised me more than my own mother ever did.

[There's a warmth when she speaks of Rica that's clearly absent when talking about her mother, and the scene in the house probably explains why. She paces away from the house, toward the direction of the market. Enabling Kalah Brosca is really not high up on her list of preferred things to do, but this stupid dream might keep going if she doesn't.]

I'd been a part of the carta and my boss had money placed on a Proving. My partner and I were supposed to poison the competition, so his man would win. We did that, but the guy who Beraht placed his money on was dead drunk when we got there. It would've been our hides if we did all that work for nothing, so I put on his armor and pretended to be him for the Proving.

It almost worked, too. I beat everyone they put in front of me...and then the asshole finally wakes up and staggers into the area, just in time for someone to recognize him. I get arrested, would've been killed by Beraht if my partner and I hadn't fought our way out of the carta hideout. Hell, the city guard would have executed me anyway, but...Duncan showed up. He recruited me on the spot, saved me from that fate. I owe him a lot.

[Which makes the fact that she couldn't save him sting all the more. The local beggars plead for coin as soon as a guard is out of earshot, and she sighs and slips them a few coins.]

It's not going to matter, you know. The only thing that'll help is going to the surface, but some people here are too old or sick to make it and the rest don't know any better.