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

"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."

"I don't know how they could... we were obviously still people. A Romero is one thing," and now Ephemera's seen it, "but if you can't tell the difference without medical testing you should just. Realize that you're dealing with a fucking person. Not a lab rat."

"People are fucking monsters," Ephemera murmurs. "Not all of them. But enough."

It doesn't take much.

"Yeah. I've always known that. Sometimes it just hits me, and I don't... get it. Knowing people can be evil is different from being able to get inside their heads and understand the how."

Ephemera never wanted to understand how it happened, only to react when it did. But to know--

Fuck.

He swallows hard and reaches out, puts his hand on Drake's arm.

"I'm sorry. That shouldn't happen to anyone."

The touch drags Drake out of his own head, where he was remembering Mr Boss and Blaine and those fucking lab techs... He sighs.

"I'm okay," he says again, softer this time. "Can we go sit down? I'm not getting back to sleep but I'm still tired."

"Yeah," Ephemera says. He takes his hand back, not sure if it was the right or wrong thing to do. "Do you want coffee or anything?"

Drake considers that, heading for Ephemera's living room. It doesn't seem right to invade his bed, but he definitely wants to flop.

"Maybe in a couple hours?"

Now what are they supposed to do? Drake's alive, breathing, and now that he's confirmed that, Ephemera feels like an idiot for panicking. It was just a dream. A fucked up, very realistic dream they somehow shared. But still a dream.

Ephemera runs his hand through his hair.

"Right," he murmurs. "....you wanna play cards or something?"

What he wants, he really shouldn't.

"Sure, grab 'em."

He sits on the couch, rubbing his face and trying to find the line of what's appropriate and what's not. Sweets' advice was sound, it made sense and Drake knows he should take it. But then Ephemera comes over with the deck of cards and.

Just for a little while. It won't hurt anything.

"...we can play in a minute," he says, reaching up and snagging Ephemera's hand, tugging him down on the next cushion instead of letting him settle farther away. Just a minute. He turns, leaning back against the arm of the couch and hoping Ephemera takes the hint.

They'll play cards for a while, Drake will kick his ass, and when morning comes around, they'll both be better. It was a bad dream. A bad fucking nightmare that was somehow more than that, but it's done. Ephemera digs out the cards and is ready to get them out and start shuffling when Drake takes his hand.

It's not like before.

And--

Let it be simple, Ephemera tells himself. Just let it be simple for a minute and don't think. He sets the cards down leans against Drake, closes his eyes and just breathes. It's easy, suddenly, to put his head against Drake's chest and listen for his heartbeat. The slowness of it doesn't scare him anymore.

They're holding hands, he thinks. It ought to be ridiculous and somehow isn't.

Ephemera settles against him and against all better judgment Drake drapes his free arm around his friend's shoulders, holds on. Shifts his grip with the other hand so their fingers tangle together. Just for a minute. It's not a big deal.

God, he's fucked.

Later, Ephemera thinks he'll wonder about this. How easily it happened. How after waking up from a nightmare, the first thing he could think of was checking on Drake. Making sure he was still breathing. And then, upon finding it true, just--

They're holding hands. Of all the things in the whole damn universe, they're holding hands. Drake has his arm over Ephemera's shoulder, doesn't protest how Ephemera is leaning against him, and their hands are tangled together. Just--holding.

Breathing.

Ephemera inhales. Holds it. Lets it go.

"These dreams--I had one. A different one. I think Washington was there."

It's so comforting, so peaceful, that Drake almost thinks he could fall asleep again. But then Ephemera speaks, his voice rumbling through both their chests, and what he says he potentially worrisome.

"...what did he see?"

And how does Ephemera feel about him seeing it? Having his enemy inside his head?

"It wasn't real."

Or at least it wasn't how things had happened.

Ephemera stays quiet for a moment, just listening to Drake's breathing.

"I found her in the water. Chica. She wasn't--she wouldn't wake up. But he was there, and--he helped me. Got her breathing again."

Well, that's almost certainly not what a Washington inserted by Ephemera's mind would do. Odds are it was really him, stuck there by Hadriel, making that decision. Drake's not certain what to make of it.

"Why, do you think?"

Ephemera closes his eyes. It was much simpler when Washington was just a suit of armor, a target to be eliminated. "Because I asked him to."

It leaves a confused, sharp feeling in his throat to admit that.

"I would've done anything, to save her."

Drake lifts the arm he has around Ephemera, sinking fingers into the other man's hair and combing through. Offering some comfort and giving himself a moment to think.

He doesn't really understand either Ephemera or Washington. How they do things, how they view the world. And he certainly doesn't know where Washington stands right now -- how he sees Ephemera. But he knows the man isn't a monster. Not like how Ephemera painted him and his squad.

"He didn't have to, though. He could have walked away."

"Yeah."

It would have been easy to turn away. To just watch Ephemera struggle with his teammate or even come up behind them and end it with a bullet. It would've been the easiest thing in the world for Washington to kill both of them. Ephemera wouldn't have thought to dodge. Every part of him had been focused on getting Chica breathing again, on saving her life. And one of the men responsible for hurting her in the first place had knelt down next to Chica and attached a healing unit to her.

Gotten her breathing again.

Ephemera exhales slowly. Squeezes Drake's hand.

"She woke up. For a second. I know it wasn't real. But I got to say goodbye."

And it hurts that Washington was responsible for that. That he did this small thing in a dream and that Ephemera, stupidly, wants to weep with gratitude.

"You're both people, Ephemera. I know it's easy to forget that, when everybody's in armor and shooting at each other, but he's a person. He feels things, too. And he said he doesn't want to hurt you." Drake hesitates, squeezes back. "I believed him."

It was complicated, obviously, but he'd believe it too if Washington said he'd just been following orders. He's pretty sure that's the case. Drake can't relate -- he wouldn't follow an order to kill, one of the reasons he hadn't even considered the military back when the option was presented. Why he'd gone for cop instead. Ephemera and Washington were different. So his words, his opinion might not mean much. He knows that.

He keeps talking anyway, fingers stroking through Ephemera's hair.

"I know you hate him. But maybe the way to heal isn't revenge."

You're both people. Not so long ago, Ephemera would have laughed at hearing that. He's been fighting for a long time, maybe too long, marked his enemies and then put them down, and some of them were human. Most of them were human, towards the end. They went down just like the Sangheili. Harder in some cases. Easier in others.

But that's not what Drake means, and Ephemera won't pretend otherwise.

He tips his head against Drake's hand, leaning into the feeling.

"I miss them," he says, quietly. "I didn't want him to be a person. I didn't want any of them to--"

Apologize. Like Carolina tried to.

"But he helped me. I got to say goodbye."

"Anger is part of grief, you know. I think you took that part and made it be everything, maybe because it was easier. It gave you a goal, something to work towards, a reason to be the one left alive."

And this was just one person he got to say goodbye to, out of his entire family. A drop in the bucket. But Washington had helped him with that. Drake picks his next words carefully.

"If you don't want to be Sharkface anymore, maybe... you should talk to him again."

Ephemera knows, logically, that there's not always a reason. People die and sometimes there's no good reason for why. There was a fight and somebody won. He survived because he wasn't there. Ephemera take a breath. Holds it. Listens to Drake's heartbeat, steady and impossibly slow.

"What would I even say?"

"...what's the truth?"

Does Ephemera really want to keep hurting him over and over until he snaps back and they begin the murder cycle?

"I don't think you'll ever be drinking buddies, but. You don't have to be at each other's throats. Maybe you'll be able to walk past each other without reacting at all, someday. And for that you're gonna have to know him a little. Be able to at least trust he won't hurt your people."

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