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

Kyna Midha | Sorrow | OTA

[evocation]

[cw for talk of suicide and gore]

[You're in the tiny kitchenette of a cramped studio apartment, but the details of it fade under a shocking amount of blood. Kyna is crouched on the floor, the body of a man beside her. If you're particularly observant, you'll spot pointed elf ears knifing through long, white hair. He's unnaturally pale, and Kyna's hands are pressed to his throat, blood bubbling up between her fingers. There's too much of it—far more than one body can hold, puddling on the tile and splattered on the cabinets, red soaking into Kyna's jeans and coating her hands. In that hazy certainty reserved for dreams, you know help is coming, and you also know it won't matter.]

Shit, shit, shit.

[Kyna's breathing is ragged and her voice is panicked, and she's too focused on her useless attempt to stop the bleeding to notice that anyone else is there.]

[hardwearing]

[ ...shit is right.

Wash is frozen, at first, amazed by the amount of blood pouring out of the man on the floor. You tend not to see that much when you kill a soldier in armor. You tend not to be close enough to hear the gurgling, choking sounds of someone drowning on their own blood. Wash doesn't know what to do to stop it -- it's clear that the artery is severed and there's no way to clamp that shit, and he's realized now that he's in plainclothes. No bioscan, no healing unit, no foam. Nothing that could possibly save this life from slowly leeching out across the tile.

But he has to do something. He has to try.

Finally kicking himself into gear, Wash grabs a towel from the stove and drops to his knees on the other side of the man from Kyna, folding it and shifting her hands aside to press it to the wound, hard. His hands are stronger, maybe he can do a little better. ]

How long til they get here?

[evocation]

[Kyna resists for a second, until she realizes what he's trying to do and pulls her hands back.]

I-I... I don't know. They said they were on their way, but...

[But how long does it take for an ambulance to come? She's never had to call one before. Did she call one? She can't remember doing it, but she's certain someone is coming to help. Time seems a little slippery, almost discordant.]

Can you stop it? Is it working?

[Her voice is trembling and high pitched and panicked, and even as she asks, she knows he's not going to be able to.]

[hardwearing]

It's slower.

[ But he's still bleeding out. Wash has seen medics just straight up stick their hands into people, pinching the bleeders until supplies come, but. He doesn't know what he's doing enough for that.

He doesn't look at Kyna, doesn't want to see the grief settle in when he says this, but he isn't going to give her false hope. ]

If you have anything to say, say it now. Before he loses consciousness.

[evocation]

[Kyna tears her eyes away from her father to look up at Wash, blinking in surprise. Does she have anything to say? Will she regret it if she doesn't think of anything? He feels like a stranger or worse, and buried under all the fear and panic isn't grief, exactly, just anger and bitterness. What the fuck was he thinking, taking that book? He didn't actually care about her, he just wanted those stupid weapons they were after. As soon as she thinks it, she feels oddly guilty, but she can't come up with anything to say. Not to her father, anyway. Kyna sits back, biting her lip as she wraps her arms around herself. Her eyes are still trained on Wash.]

I was trying to help him, but then he just... He...

[She doesn't know how to say it, and she doesn't know why she needs Wash to understand.]

[hardwearing]

Kyna? Tell me later. Talk to him now.

[ There'll be plenty of time for her to explain, but this man is dying and there's nothing they can do to stop it. She has to say her goodbyes. ]

[evocation]

[She looks down again, breath catching in her throat, and then reaches for her father's hand, squeezing tight. The movement is surprisingly awkward, and she shakes her head, voice practically a whisper.]

I don't know what to say.

[hardwearing]

[ Wash doesn't know how to guide her, doesn't know what their relationship was like to make a suggestion. He looks at their joined hands, frowns a little when the man jerks under him and coughs up blood. They're just about out of time. ]

...just be here with him, then.

[evocation]

[He only gets a nod in response, though she flinches when her father coughs. There's no way out of this, but maybe that's better. He wouldn't have wanted to live without his magic, anyway.

He lets out another shuddering cough, weaker this time, and Kyna squeezes her eyes shut, not brave enough to watch him stop breathing. It's not like it changes anything—he goes still, and Kyna's breath catches in her throat. She can't bring herself to move, but she's selfishly, desperately glad Wash is here.]

[armcollector]

[That's too much blood. That is way too much blood.

Magnus doesn't know what to do at first, frozen in shock as he watches Kyna act to try and do something, but he gets over it quick and pulls off his own shirt to help stop the bleeding.]

Fuck! What happened!?

[There's help coming, and Magnus can't let himself think that it's too late for this guy, but... this is a lot. Magnus can feel himself panic, and he tries to fight that down, tries to stay calm for Kyna at least, but the most he can do is place a firm, reassuring hand on her shoulder as he uses the other hand to press his shirt to the wound.]

[evocation]

[Kyna glances up just for a split second, then her eyes lock onto her father's throat again, his long hair sticking to her hands in ropes corded together with blood.]

I-I don't...

[She sucks in a deep breath, shakes her head.]

He just... I left the room for a second and he...

[Kyna is babbling, and she knows it, and she realizes she's not even babbling about anything important.]

I don't have any healing spells.

[trashmouths]

[ There's blood. There's so much blood. Richie knows how Eddie feels now, he thinks, because the stench bubbles up and it's coppery and rich and he's smelled piss and shit and decaying corpses and sewer water, he's smelled arguably worse, but this is different.

Is this what Beverly Marsh saw, in her bathroom? Is this what the boys helped clean up while he stood watch outside? A hand covers his mouth. Kyna--that was her name he thinks, it might have been Kyra--is panicking. Richie can only stare for a few moments before the inevitable comes out. ]

What...What happened? [ His voice is cautious. Wary, too, and just a little bit frightened. ]

[evocation]

[Kyna is so distracted that she doesn't even notice Richie behind her, not until he speaks up, and then her head whips around.]

Fuck.

[He can't be seeing this. This is bad enough for her, hearing her father choking on his own blood, but a kid?]

You shouldn't... You can't be here.

[trashmouths]

[ He shouldn't, but he is, and Richie's mouth is oddly dry. He looks down at the blood and tries to resist the urge to puke, because this is bringing up more memories, more smells, and he swears he can get a whiff of the sewers of Derry and all of that graywater mixing with corpses.

The problem is that Richie can't move. He can't even try a voice, he's just frozen, watching someone die. Someone he's sure Kyna cares about. ]

Who is he?

[evocation]

[Kyna squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, breathing slowly. Shit. She knows he's dying, and she knows nothing she can do will stop it. No one is going to get here quickly enough to save him, and with how deep the laceration in his neck is, she can't stop the bleeding. Suddenly, she gets up, trying to wipe the blood off of her hands as much as possible, and then reaches for Richie's shoulders.]

You don't need to see this.

[She hopes she sounds steadier than she feels.]

[trashmouths]

[ Of course he doesn't, but he's here. And the smell aside, there's something else that hangs in the air. Richie can't place it, he's not observant, not really when it comes to stuff like this, but there's a feeling. It takes him a while to work through it.

Kyna's not panicking. Sure, she's panicking, but she's not doing it in the hide-the-body-way he's seen when he watches horror films down at Derry's cinema. She's sad.

It's sorrow, that's what it is. ]

Kyna. [ His voice is firmer, now. Still high, still young, but firm. ] Who is he?

[evocation]

[She doesn't want to tell him, because somehow she feels like that will make this worse on him. She's not sure why, but adding any sort of humanity to the body on the floor seems like a bad choice. But she can tell Richie is stubborn, and she has a feeling he won't back down, so she angles her body in front of him, trying to block his line of sight as much as possible.]

It's my dad. But... someone will be here to help.

[Not that it matters. She knows it doesn't.]

[trashmouths]

[ He doesn't make to look at it--he doesn't want to, not now, he's seen enough death, enough of this shit to last ages, and his mouth is oddly dry as he swallows and pushes his glasses up. ]

Did someone break in? [ He sounds frantic, because there's no way Kyna is actually calm about this. She has to be freaking out, right? She has to be. Even internally. ]

[ghostlocked]

[Harlan has seen this before. The aftermath, at least. He would never ask Kyna for details, but he couldn't stop himself from wondering how this went down when he was cleaning up the blood in her apartment. Is this how it happened? Maybe, maybe not. The edges of things are hazy. This isn't real and brains are funny about that sort of thing.

He kneels down next to Kyna and watches for a moment. The blood doesn't bother him. It should, he thinks, but he's used to bleeding and he knows how to get the stains out of denim.]

Hey. Stop. [He closes his hands over Kyna's and tries to gently tug her away. Her dad's going to die. That's just how this one goes.]

It's not your fault.

[evocation]

[Harlan is here and that feels... wrong. Off. She can't pinpoint it beyond vague instinct, but her heart leaps to hear his voice anyway. Then his hands close over hers, and for a second, she freezes, simultaneously wanting to link her fingers with his and afraid she'll move too quickly and scare him off. She's breathing too shakily, throat tight with emotion, and when he tells her it isn't her fault, her vision blurs. It's not for her father—she knows it isn't her fault, and she know he did this to himself, but Harlan is one of the very few people who can make this feel anything close to okay. She hesitates, and then lets him pull her away, leaning back. For the briefest second, she squeezes his hand.]

I can't just leave him.

[But she doesn't move, either.]

[ghostlocked]

Yeah, you can. He left you.

[He should just say that outright, but it's true and he's finding it difficult to maintain a filter in here. It's like she'll hear it whether or not he says it, so he may as well lean in.

She squeezes his hand. Nothing happens, so he squeezes back. Huh.]

There's nothing you could've done, anyway.

[evocation]

[He doesn't pull away, and it's all the excuse she needs to cling, her fingers threading through his.]

Sorry, I-I shouldn't...

[Shouldn't be taking advantage that way, but she can't focus enough to say it. Her breathing is shuddery now, as though she's trying very hard not to start sobbing.]

I hate this. Who the hell does this to their kid?

[ghostlocked]

[Holding her hand is uncomfortable because of the blood. It'll make his skin itchy if it dries there.]

A fuck-up of a parent. [Harlan glances down at their hands, and then at her father, still bleeding though there isn't much life left in him. He shouldn't have left Kyna alone. Harlan shouldn't have, either.]

You don't have anything to apologize for.

[Then again, wait, what did she mean? Why is she sorry? He's not sure if he should ask, but he does anyway.]

You shouldn't what?

[evocation]

[Her father is still sucking in choking, gurgling breaths, although they're getting quieter and quieter, and Kyna squeezes her eyes shut. Harlan is a centering force as he always is, so she manages to answer his question.]

I shouldn't be... pushing this. Holding your hand.

[ghostlocked]

[Ah. Right. He's vaguely aware that her fingers twined through his should bother him more than it does. No, wait, "should" isn't the right word. It shouldn't bother him. It doesn't bother normal people. He doesn't want it to bother him, but it always does. Except now. He's busy. Kyna's dad has fucked her over and she's still a kid, basically. Close enough. She's not much older than he was when his mom got out of prison and managed to track him down despite his best efforts to ditch his old life. He didn't know what the fuck to do then. He wishes he'd had someone there to clean up the blood. He wishes he would've stuck around to help Kyna deal with her dad so she wouldn't have had to watch him die. She shouldn't have seen this.

He eases his hands out of hers but just so he can wrap both arms around her and pull her into him.]