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

Adam Parrish | open

[unknowable]

[rage]

[You're walking down a hallway. If the lockers on the wall are any indication, you're in a school of some kind - it'll be a reasonably familiar setting for anyone from modern-day Earth or the equivalent. Except not quite, because everything looks much more expensive. This isn't a public school, not with those hardwood floors, not with the sweeping staircases.

Certainly not with the uniforms the other students have on.

They're all male, in their late teens. Well-bred specimens of humanity, silver spoon and fully-paid tuition and legacy entries to Ivy Leagues. They've never had to worry about money a day in their life - never even dreamed of it. It must be nice, to not think about whether there's food in the fridge, to not be terrified of spilling coffee on your textbook because you can't afford a new one. To not have to go straight to a part-time job after class, and then another one after that, fitting in homework where you can, setting things like sleep and relaxation aside.

It's clear none of these boys have ever had to think about that. But Adam did.

He's there in the halls, carrying his books - used, secondhand. Just like his uniform, carefully cared for but not new. There's a stray thread at the shoulder, the hem of his shirt is just slightly frayed. He had work before school, and there's traces motor oil under his fingernails, because no matter how he scrubs it's hard to get it all. There's a fading bruise on his cheekbone.]

We've got that school trip coming up, you know? My group's headed to Barbados. What a boring choice.

[It's one of the other boys, sleek and groomed and superior. He glances at his friends, at Adam next to them, tucking his books in his locker.]

Where's your group headed, Parrish?

[It seems to be meant as a friendly overture, but Adam's shoulders stiffen. If it was friendly, it was entirely tone deaf. One of the boy's friends laughs and elbows the speaker.]

He's the scholarship kid, Carruthers. He's not going.

[Adam steadfastly ignores them, or pretends to. But the air grows thick with anger, the dream distorting as it's overlaid with impotent feelings of worthlessness, weariness, rage. The boys either don't notice or don't care.]

Oh, right. Sorry, Parrish. Maybe we can take up a collection for you. Get you a new school jacket too, that one's getting old.

[Also maybe meant as a friendly gesture, but why would Adam ever want - or accept - charity from these boys who do nothing but look down on him? He doesn't say anything. He can't, because as much as he wants to explode, as much as he wants to tell them what he thinks of them, it's impossible. He can't get in any trouble. He'll lose his scholarship. But he's so angry.

Then the boy turns to you, looking at you just the same way - with condescension, pity, the superiority of someone who thinks they're going a good deed.]

We'll get one for you, too. You know, I always thought poor people just didn't work hard enough, but you two break the stereotypes. Good for you. You deserve a hand now and then.

[or you can hit me with any emotion/prompt and I'll write something up!]

I'm sorry about him...

[nowherewolf]

[Tucker never went to high school, but in dreamland, that doesn't seem to matter. Here he is, a teenager again, dressed in a prep school uniform. If he was more aware of the situation, he'd probably think the idea alone was hilarious.

He remembers these patronizing looks, though, both from his time spent homeless and his time spent working with the carnival folks. What a sad life you must lead, those looks said. How unfortunate for you that you aren't us.

Yeah well, how unfortunate that Tucker thinks he can talk his way out of any resulting trouble.]

Yeah, you guys deserve a hand, too, for being so nice and all. [Tucker gives the other boys a look that looks genuinely apologetic.] But you know, since I'm so poor, I could only afford part of one.

[Expression of faux-sincerity still on his face, he holds up a middle finger.]

he is perfect

[unknowable]

[Adam should probably be horrified - he tries to avoid making waves, because life is much easier when that's the case. Especially when it's something he could be disciplined for, something that could jeopardize his scholarship or get back to his father. So he should be scandalized.

But Adam is angry, and he's got a pretty thick asshole streak that he spends a lot of time trying to hide or ignore. So he grins instead, a little sideways smirk that makes it look quite a bit like he's trying to suppress a laugh.

The other boys do, however, look shocked. They're not used to pushback - Adam's usual attitude is less calm acceptance and more furious silence, but that still isn't pushback. Not like this, anyway.]

Hey, trailer trash, we're just trying to help. Don't be ungrateful. I mean, you're only here because the headmaster likes charity.

[That smug rich boy crosses his arms, lip curling.]

[nowherewolf]

[That shocked expression is exactly what Tucker wanted. Feels good, man. An since he's pretty confident he can get away with this, it's time to keep going!]

Yes of course, and I appreciate his charity so much that I couldn't possibly stomach any more of yours, too. I don't want to be greedy.

[He speaks in the most sickeningly sweet voice he can manage without laughing.]

Maybe you should take your help and give it to someone who actually wants to kiss your ass. Or maybe you could shove it there.

[He doesn't think these rich boys would lob a punch and risk their uncalloused hands, but he's ready to duck just in case.]

[unknowable]

[One of them does step forward, as if he's going to start something, and Adam tenses. But his friend, one of the other arrogant boys, grabs his arm.]

Not worth it. They're just gonna end up flipping your burgers anyway, man.

[That pisses Adam off even more. Why is he at this school if not to reach for something better? But even there, all that defines him is his poverty. He opens his mouth to say something. Even then, though, with all his anger, he tries to do the prudent thing. He stops himself, visibly controlling his rage, and turns to Tucker.]

Let's go. I'm sure we both know who's actually not worth it.

[His anger turns into something more icy, more like disdain. He tilts his head toward the other boys, just so there won't be any confusion about who he's talking about.]

[nowherewolf]

[Tucker keeps his cool, and he's tempted to shoot back with something like "yeah, I'll spit in yours", but Adam's interjection stops him short. He's glad this kid is playing along now. A kindred spirit. Tucker grins.]

Yeah, let's get the hell outta here. This is starting to get boring.

[He gives the rich kids a little wave and returns to his sickly-sweet voice.]

You gents have a lovely afternoon.

[He turns to leave.]

[unknowable]

[Maybe it should be a surprise that the boys let them go - but then, maybe not. These are soft private school boys who have likely never been in an actual fight in their lives. They have to weigh their desire to lord their privilege over the poor kids against the knowledge that if they started a fight, they might not win.

Adam's not much of a fighter, so they probably would have. But they don't know that.

They let Adam and Tucker walk away, though not without some seething glares and a few more muttered slurs against their parentage. Adam ignores it, and ignores them coolly, at least until they're safely away. Then he turns to Tucker.]

You're just asking to get punched in the face, talking like that.

[But he's smiling, so it sounds like like 'what the hell were you thinking' and more like 'good job'.]

[nowherewolf]

[Tucker's not much of a fighter, either, but he's been writing checks his ass can't cash since he was... well, since he could talk, basically. He's found that, on the whole, not a lot of people are willing to call a bluff.

And as for the insults toward his parents: hell, it could all be true for all he knows.

Tucker shrugs at Adam.]

Hasn't happened yet. I know their type. Never put their money where their mouth is. Wouldn't try it on the daily, though. Even their kind lose their tempers eventually.

I'm Tucker. You are?

[kidpocalypse]

[He's seen private schools before--heck, he goes to one, when he's not trapped in a pocket dimension cave city--but this is something else. Where the Xavier Institute for Mutant Education and Outreach is sleek and modern, their current surroundings are like a boarding school in a movie. You could almost expect Robin Williams to come around a corner wearing one of those jackets with the elbow patches.

It takes a moment to realize who the dream belongs to, and then it feels obvious, the same way it feels obvious that this isn't anyone's idea of a good night's sleep. These guys are jerks, and they don't even have the courage to be honest about it. Couching everything they say in that fake concern is enough to make a person's blood boil. Before they start talking to him, Evan shoots the other guy a sympathetic look.

But then it has to turn his way, too.

It's not actually his school, and even in the middle of a dream, he knows that. It shouldn't be hard to tell them off--what are they going to do, follow him back to New York and tell Ms. Pryde? But Evan's biting back most of the words that come to his mind, too. The best he can do is an attempt at that same insincere sympathy, most (if not quite all) of the ire scrubbed out of his voice.]

If you skip Barbados, there's probably a farm you could work on for the week. That's where the real vacation is, right? Since poor people are so lazy.

[unknowable]

[A barely noticeable smile slips on to Adam's face. He's had so much practice biting back his anger, though even then his demeanor never quite makes it to meek - rather, when he's noticed at all he's usually considered cold or distant. But plenty of the other students here don't care about that, they only care about the shabbiness of his clothes and the accent that slips out when he's not careful enough.

It's nice to see someone talking back to them, even if Adam knows it probably isn't a good idea.]

Maybe we could switch places. I'm sure that would be educational.

[Truthfully, Adam wouldn't wish that on anyone, not even these boys - but it's worth saying for the expressions on their faces. Though even that is a little insulting. Is it so very terrible, the idea of not living steeped in privilege?

Of course it is. One of the rich boys curls his lip, looking down on the both of them.]

There's no need to be ungrateful about it. We were just trying to help.

[kidpocalypse]

So were we. You've probably never been to a farm.

[Which is genuinely sad, in the same way he feels sorry for someone who's never been to Kansas, or who's only seen the uglier sides of living there. It's so easy for some people to eat all their meals without ever thinking about all the work put into making their food--not just the person who cooked it, but all the people who grew it and packaged it, and every other step in between. Maybe his experiences growing up weren't real, exactly, but at least he didn't grow up to be somebody who looks at a trip to Barbados and rolls his eyes. Talk about ungrateful.

The thing with bullies like these ones is that if you stick around too long, things'll only get worse, and even in a dream, Evan has to think about what it'll look like if he ends up in a fight. They might be mutants, since they didn't freak over his skin, but that could end up worse in the long run. Wherever they are, whoever these people might be, it probably isn't a good idea for Apocalypse's clone to try and teach them a lesson (and there's no guarantee that they won't have some abilities to speak of themselves).

So instead, he turns to the other boy and nods toward a set of double doors at the end of the hall.]

Come on. Let's get out of here.

[Whether these jerkwads will actually let them go is another question.]

[unknowable]

[Removing themselves from the situation is a good idea. As much as Adam would like to see where things go from here, he doesn't want this to explode - especially not for this boy who's helping him out. So he nods.

When he turns to lead Evan down the hall, out of the school, one of the other boys starts to step forward. Maybe he wants to start something, maybe he's not content with letting them leave, but Adam is the one who turns toward them this time.]

This isn't worth it, Tad.

[His words are terse, bitten off, the barest hint of his anger seeping out around the edges. It's nothing close to the true rage Adam feels at their condescension and blind arrogance, but it's more than he usually shows. The other boy doesn't seem frightened of his anger, exactly - more surprised, uncertain of how to respond. And maybe he really doesn't think it's worth it, though it's not because Adam said so.

Whatever it is, he scowls at both of them, but doesn't follow when Adam starts to walk away. Adam looks back at Evan - who he doesn't know, but whose intervention he appreciates.]

This way. We'll go to the library. They won't follow.

Re: Adam Parrish | open

[toiletseat_girl]

[George has been frozen in place during this exchange, but she is fuming mad. visibly so. so that when she's finally addressed and breaks the weird frozen thing, she has a retort armed and ready]

Save your charity, you worm.

[unknowable]

[The boy's lip curls, and he looks down at you.]

Well, that's pretty ungrateful. Here I am trying to help out, and you don't even say thanks.

[Adam is watching, but he doesn't get involved - not yet, anyway. It would just destabilize things, make them worse, no matter what he said. He knows that.]

[toiletseat_girl]

[she so does not care~~]

Bullshit, you were trying to help us out. You were just looking for a way to inflate your already way overinflated ego and get your digs in at us for being poor.

[don't worry, she's doing a pretty good job at destabilizing things all on her own]

[unknowable]

Please. You're barely worth my time.

[He sneers at her, and at this point Adam steps in - because as much as he'd like to let this play out, he's worried it's going to devolve into something violent. He can't afford that, and he doesn't want to drag her into it.]

Then you should find something else to do with your time.

[His voice is even and calm, but his hands are in tight fists as he controls his anger.]

[toiletseat_girl]

Then what the fuck is the point of this?

[George's fists are clenched at her sides, yeahhhh, she's expecting violence any minute now. which would be a mistake on the bully's part; Reapers can take (and deal) a lot of damage. she's startled by Adam stepping in to intervene, but she's going to back him up]

Yeah. What he said.

[her voice is a lot more heated]

[unknowable]

[He doesn't necessarily think it'll become violent - these are rich private school boys, not the rough-and-tumble type - but Adam is always careful when it comes to these things. He's not a fighter.

The boy they were talking to stares them down for a moment, then turns to his friends.]

They'll both be cleaning our houses in a few years. Come on, guys.

[With that parting shot, he turns and saunters off, his friends following behind.]

[toiletseat_girl]

[too bad, George kind of wanted an excuse to bust the ringleader's nose

George meets his eyes, completely unintimidated]

Don't you mean that you'll be kissing our asses in a few years?

[George glares at him hard enough to bore holes in the back of his skull, then turns to Adam]

What a bunch of assholes. Did you seriously have to deal with that shit every day?

[greywaren]

[Ronan has never much cared for school.

Understatement.

Ronan has always hated school and the social parodies that played out every day within it. He's hated the eyes, the fingers, and the hordes of mouths with too many teeth inside of them. He's hated the whispers, the squeaking of sneakers on tile, the god damned order of it all.

He hates that he's here, but he knows he's not really. There's nothing in him that could come back here, not willingly and not in his dreams because there's nothing for him here anymore, no emotional attachment, not even a single fond memory.

Lie.

He met Adam here, and Gansey too, and even Noah in a weird way. And he loves those memories because they were the beginning of a journey, not because of where that journey started out. Which was... right here.

It's strange to remember all that, but not remember his place in it. Ronan's eyes are hard as flint when the boys turn to him, and he feels all the pent-up rage that Adam must have been hiding for years. The condescension of it prickles at the back of his spine, and it's probably for the best that Ronan wasn't a scholarship kid or he'd have been kicked out in the first week.

Now though, he'll be lucky if he makes it to the end of the day.]

I'll shove your fucking collection so far up your ass you'll be spitting dimes for a week.

[He says, acidic, his hands tense at his side. His vision flickers from one of them, toward the other. After a sharp, tense moment, his shoulders ease and he tilts his head.]

Shit, you don't even know what a dime is. It's what you choked on when you were a baby to kill half your fucking braincells. Keep moving.

[unknowable]

[The Aglionby boys are shocked - horrified - to be spoken to like that. And by someone who they don't see as their equal, on top of it. If this weren't Adam's dream, if it were more like the real world, it would be different. No Aglionby student would be that shocked or horrified by Ronan Lynch talking shit straight to their faces. Plenty have experienced it before, and others have heard stories.

But this is Adam's dream, and so Ronan isn't Ronan, but just another ungrateful scholarship students. And those students don't fight back. Oh, they can talk back a bit - Adam was known to have an cold demeanor and a certain air of disdain, even if that was in truth mainly because he isn't as good at social situations as Gansey. But that's much different from this. This is straight out hostility, and these boys don't know what to do.

Adam, however, looks - for one brief, impossible moment - delighted. As if he's wanted to hear things like that the entire time he's been walking Aglionby's halls. He may never have understood Ronan's hatred for school, but he always understood his dislike of the other students.

The delight disappears, Adam's expression shuttered before anyone else can see it. He gets cold instead, choosing a side rather than playing peacemaker. But then, he always does choose Ronan's side.]

You'd really better go. I'm sure you have places to be. Trust funds to drain.

[It seems, for a moment, like one of the boys might lash out. But Ronan and Adam, together, have always been more intimidating than either of them alone: Ronan tall and angry and sharp as a knife, Adam slim and icy and distant. Horror movie twins. He thinks better of it, but that doesn't mean any of them are ready to walk away. He sneers at them instead, and speaks:]

Yeah? Lay a hand on us and you're out of here. My lawyer would be on your ass before you could blink - not that you've got anything to take.

[greywaren]

[The threat only seems to make him a little amused, and a smile quirks at the corner of his mouth, unkind and cold. They're scared of them- of course they are, look at the two of them, with Adam unflinching and resolute and Ronan being... well, Ronan. A pair of snakes. A pair of knives, sharp and ready to bite into anyone who comes too close.]

Save your lawyer for the drug charges, [he mocks, arching an eyebrow,] you wouldn't last ten seconds with me.

[Ronan tilts his chin unkindly, indicating toward the hallway nearby. He might not be able to start swinging, but he's not going to back down- he just wasn't built for it. Adam knows this, somewhere. Adam must be loving this, somewhere.]

Now get the fuck out of my sight.

[unknowable]

[Adam does love this. For all that it's a Rage dream, seeing a bunch of stuck-up rich boys back off because they have no choice - because they know they can't beat Ronan in a fight, because something about Adam tells them he's not worth the trouble he could bring - is immensely satisfying.

Things like this didn't usually happen at home. Not so blatantly. But it was always there, in whispered comments and sidelong looks, and sometimes in blind insults based only on who Adam was, what they thought of him.

The leader looks between them, clearly measuring the possibility of a victory. It's slim, and it seems he's smart enough to realize that.]

Don't think this means it's over. My father is friends with the headmaster. You'll hear about this.

[He stalks off, righteous as if he didn't start this, as if that was a fight-winning statement. But this is Aglionby. Everyone's father is friends with the headmaster, save Adam's. The statement doesn't frighten him, though it causes another curl of anger in his stomach. He looks at Ronan.]

You didn't have to.

[greywaren]

[The threat does the opposite of pacifying him- in fact, Ronan is incensed by it and he grins the grin of an arsonist, looking back toward Adam with a certain type of exhilaration that's only found when you've won something. There's no anger in Ronan the way that there is in Adam, and although the grin turns into more of a smirk, he still finds himself viscerally pleased with how all of that had turned out. Maybe they'll think twice now before setting their sights on Adam Parrish.]

Don't say that. It was fun as hell.

[He reaches out a hand to shake in typical Aglionby fashion, though he's mocking it more than he is upholding it.]

Ronan Lynch. My father isn't friends with the headmaster.

[There's a pause there, and he tilts his head, eyeing Adam curiously even as he keeps his hand outstretched.]

Wait- did we meet already when I was wasted? I think I know you.

[unknowable]

[Adam shakes his hand - without mockery, though for Adam it's less a smooth 'good ol' boys' handshake. He's been taught politeness, after all, enough so that it's part of him whether he wants it to be or not. And he owes Ronan. Not many people would stand up for him like that - or, well, that's not quite it.

Adam would have bristled at being defended, maybe, depending on how it was done. But it was clear to him that Ronan was in it for his own entertainment, that it wasn't done out of pity for Adam Parrish, the poor scholarship student everyone looks down on. He did it because he likes fucking with rich Aglionby brats.

Adam can appreciate that.]

Adam Parrish.

[He pauses for a moment, eyes studying Ronan's face. There's - something there. He doesn't know what it is. A pressure in his chest, a feeling of recognition, though he can't quite place it.]

I wouldn't have been wasted, but yeah. I mean, you seem familiar. We must have met.