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

Squash one, squash two, squash three-

[The first thing you hear is singing. A small girl's voice, to be exact, and when you take stock of your surroundings, it's easy enough to find her, though she's facing away from you at the moment, crouched on the ground and twisting the grass and wildflowers in her fingers. Her hair is light blonde, but cut short and sharp, in harsh contrast to the rest of her soft features.

The field she's in is large and open, dotted by various barnlike structures. A herd of cows is moving nearby, and it's peaceful. More peaceful than it has any right to be, the kind of peace that eases your stress away so completely that it's difficult to remember what you were anxious about in the first place.

She keeps counting in her soft, singsong voice as she rips a flower or two out of the ground and sniffs at it, the motion more doglike than anything. Upon moving closer, if you're particularly observant you will notice that instead of feet poking out from the bottom of her dress, she has thin, elegant-looking hooves, which she's carefully balanced on.

Eventually, she finishes her song and jumps upward, spinning triumphantly.]

Ready or not-

[She spots you and pauses, tilting her head. There's an incriminating flower hanging out of her mouth, and she chews on it thoughtfully while she stares.]

You?

[Rosen instinctively follows the sound of a child singing. It's both a familiar and bittersweet sound for him and he seeks it out in the same way someone pursues the sweetness of a pomegranate, finding it only after spitting out seeds that catch in the throw or feel heavy in the mouth.

When he sees the girl he slows to a stop. At first he says nothing. Only when she turns to look at him questioningly, does he speak]

Hello. [He takes a single step closer, trying to keep a friendly smile] Are you lost?

[She tilts her head at him, watching inquisitively- the girl seems all at once far too old and far too young to be in this sort of form, her large eyes in a piercing and inquisitive gaze, her mouth pressed into a thoughtful expression while she takes in the appearance of the old man near her.]

Searching, [she finally says.] Hide and seek. For Kerah.

[The child is either a poor judge of character or an excellent one, because she doesn't trust Rosen quite yet, and looks around herself, taking careful stock of the situation.]

Sum vultus. It's a game.

[For the moment Rosen remains where he is. Something about the way she looks at him tells him that coming closer would, at best, only scare her away]

Kerah is your friend?

[She considers the question, and it's not one that she can answer straight away, but eventually she nods, casting her shadowed gaze over the field.]

He is the greywaren. The dreamer.

[It's difficult to explain, and she cycles through many names in her mind before finally landing on one that Rosen would recognize.]

Ronan.

Ronan.

[He says it almost in disbelief. Ronan was perhaps one of the last people he'd have expected to have implicated in this dream]

What...what do you mean? What is a greywaren?

[She shakes her head at the question, jarbling out vague words in an alien language- but Ronan isn't anywhere nearby to help her or to translate for her and she twists her fingers at the questioning, anxiously looking over the grass.]

Greywaren is... porta. Gate. He gives- form to the thought. Nnn, he makes it alive. It needs him.

[Her eyes close for a moment and she takes a breath, a soft, huffy puff of air.]

I need him.

[Just being here sets part of Adam at ease. He knows this must be a dream - they've all been having dreams, and this is the Barns, a place they could only visit in a dream. But he's content anyway. He's missed this, even if it isn't really his to miss. Part of him covets it, always will, and part of him knows that someday maybe it will be his to miss.

The voice is familiar, and he approaches Ronan's Orphan Girl with the cautious care he always uses with her.

He wonders if she could be real. In Ronan's dreams, you just never know. Cabeswater might be able to tell him, but he doesn't ask. He's only happy to see her, to see her happy instead of tense or afraid.]

Don't let Ronan teach you any more songs. He only knows bad ones.

[And Irish competition ones, apparently.]

[Adam's appearance at least, seems to set her at ease. It's difficult to say if this one is the real Orphan Girl, or if she's a dream representation of a dream, but the further they delve into that, the more complicated things get. For all intents and purposes though, she's there and Adam's there and that has to be enough.

In response though, she mumbles something in some kind of other language, turning her large eyes up toward Adam with a frown. There's a moment or two, before she clarifies:]

Requiro Kerah. I'm looking.

[Her lips curl a little and she casts her gaze over the fields, her hand pressed up against her narrow chest, as if she could somehow feel Ronan in there.]

It's a game.

[He wonders if she remembers him - if she knows who he is - but he doesn't ask. She might just be a dream, or she might be real and not remember him, and either way he knows he'd be a little hurt. It's silly, but it's there. So he doesn't ask, since he doesn't really want to know.

He looks at her, then out across the fields.]

Can I play?

[He doesn't know the Barns as well as he'd like to - as well as he someday hopes to. But this is a dream, and if anyone can find Ronan in a dream, it will be the two of them.]

[There's a pause as she considers it for a few long moments, before nodding once, her chin fitting snug against her collar while she watches him with too-large eyes. She's wearing his watch- was she wearing it before?- she has it now though, and after a moment or so, she moves toward him, tentative but surefooted.]

He doesn't know.

[She says, reaching for Adam's wrist so that she can grab at it. It's not hand holding, exactly, but she keeps hold of him, expectantly, as if it's now his job to lead her around.]

He'll be glad.

[He doesn't try to take her hand, letting her decide how much contact they should have. Adam treats her like he would have wanted to be treated when he was that small, when he was frightened of so many things.]

He'll be glad to see you. He misses you.

[It's probably okay to say that. Ronan's not here to scowl about it, and even if Opal isn't the real one, Ronan will probably remember this dream when he wakes up. If they can find him.]

Where are we going to look?

In the barn.

[There are plenty of barns at... well, the Barns, but Opal points toward the nearest one. It's taller than most of the others around, a two-story loft that's somehow dark and looming against the summery sky.

Inside is filled with shadows and cobwebs and remnants of Ronan's past. There's a photograph on the floor of Ronan as a very small child, grasping desperately to Declan's leg as he learns to walk for the first time, further into the barn reveals more: a burned pair of pajamas, as if they survived a fire, a vase filled with blue flowers.

Opal walks with Adam through it, tottering over to the various items, picking them up and turning them about in her hands, humming an odd tune. The further they get into the barn though- and it's a large barn, far larger inside than it is on the outside- the slower the girl becomes, lingering longer over the various pieces, until it reaches a point where she simply stops, shaking her head.]

I don't want to go any further.

[He follows her in, follows in her footsteps. Adam can't resist picking up the items as well, looking at them. These pieces of Ronan, and of Ronan's past before Aglionby - before Gansey and Adam and everything else. Adam doesn't spend a lot of time dwelling on Ronan's past, but he's thought about it sometimes, about the way growing up in such a magical place with such an incredible family shaped him.

And growing up with those powers, too, knowing always that he was something different - and, after Niall died, maybe the only one who could do that particular magical thing.

He lingers over the photograph especially, though there's a more mundane explanation for that. Baby Ronan is adorable, and Adam has never been lucky enough to see a photo before. Probably there are some at the Barns, the real Barns, but Adam's never had a chance to go looking. He only puts the photo down reluctantly, so he can keep following Opal. Until she stops.]

Why not? Is there something there?

[She squirms uncomfortably, moving back to Adam and burying her face in his side. What she says is in some odd sort of language and muffled into the fabric of his shirt so it's indecipherable anyway. It's dark back here, shadowy, though the light catches on a fragment of steel belonging to a shiny gun, so glossy it looks like a toy, the words DREAM KILLER engraved in gaudy lettering on the side.

Deeper still is not one item, but many, a small mountain of bottles that reek of alcohol, stacked and broken and making a mess along the floor. Some of them still have liquid in them that's unlike any alcohol Adam will have seen, a dark black substance that seems to consume all light that tries to shine on it.]

We won't find him if we stop, [she whines, though it's clear she wants to.

Behind the bottles, almost tucked away from view, is a mask- hideous and brutally terrifying, striking at a certain kind of primal fear that swallows up any sort of rationalization behind it. The mask is wooden and carved crudely, with chunks of flesh and tufts of recognizable brown hair stuck to the inside.]

Perdidi te, Magician...

[She groans, her cold hands holding Adam's in a vice grip.]

We lost you. Kerah wanted to save you... he didn't know how. You pulled- [she shudders, her shoulders seizing up in emotion.] -your face, Magician, we lost it-

[He takes a breath, steeling himself. Part of him wants to stop, too, but most of him doesn't care - it might be frightening, it might be dangerous, but all the more reason to push through. All the more reason to try to find Ronan, who might be in some kind of danger or who just might be - alone.

Which, in a place like this, could be almost as bad.

He puts a hand on her shoulder, pulling her close as if he could protect her. Maybe he could. He doesn't know.

But the gun, the bottles - those are bad. The mask, though, is something else. He stops for a moment, unable to look at anything else. What does it mean? Does he want to know? Does he already know.

He pulls away from Opal and kneels, takes her hands and gently pulls them to his face, so she can feel him.]

It's here. I'm here. I'm not hurt, it wasn't me.

[His voice is soft, his statements simple.]

In real life, he saved me. So many times.

It was real too.

[She whispers, though her fingers spread out on Adam's face, touching as much of him as it can. Her eyes, which were squeezed shut before, open slowly and she looks at him, searching his face for any sort of understanding. But he's here and he's whole, which is better than all of the duplicates of him that she's seen in those dreams.

Her hands are stretched across Adam's cheeks and nose and eyes in a way that would be almost comical if she weren't so deathly serious. The orphan girl looks at him, somber and irreversibly melancholy now that the panic has faded and she knows who's really here with her.]

As real as me.

[Which is the root of it, isn't it? Real and not real become tangled so easily in Ronan's world, in her world. This Adam is alive, that one isn't. That one clawed off his own skin. That one was the Devil inverted, knowing that there is something wrong but unable to undo his shackles and reach catharsis and so he tore himself apart instead, became a monster, died the moment Ronan opened his eyes.

She lets her fingers fall slowly, peering behind them as if ensuring that Adam's skin is still there. It is. She nods, her cheeks wet with tears.]

I can't... I don't want to go anymore.

[She's always been something of a coward, Ronan had scoffed once. Then again, she is very small. Then again, she was trapped in Ronan's head during a time where Ronan's head was more dangerous than anything that could be found in reality. Then again, she's managed to survive somehow.]

[He reaches out with careful hands to wipe the tears from her cheeks. He doesn't know what to do. They're similar, he knows - he's always been unable to avoid seeing that, seeing the fear in her and feeling the echo of it in himself. It makes it impossible not to care for her, but it also makes it difficult to know what to do sometimes.

Especially here, in this place. Adam has been in Ronan's dreams before, has even sent himself there on purpose to help Ronan, to help Cabeswater. But this is different. He's not sure he has any power here, he doesn't know if he can protect her if something happens. He doesn't even know if he can protect himself.

But one thing remains true. Adam knows that, if Ronan has any choice, has any control in the matter, he'll never hurt Adam. He won't hurt this orphan girl, either. He might rage or throw angry words or walk away, but he won't hurt them, not if he has any choice in the matter.]

You don't have to go if you don't want to. I can go alone.

[He doesn't straighten up yet, though. He doesn't leave. He watches her instead, quiet and trying to reach for as much calm as he can.]

But you can come with me, too. I won't leave your side. I'll carry you, if you want.

[She considers that for a moment, glancing fearfully back toward the shadows before reluctantly nodding, reaching her arms up for Adam to be picked up. She's still a child, and has some weight to her, but she's lighter than she should be, as if she's packed with fluff instead of flesh and bone. The girl sniffles, but presses closer toward Adam anyway, hiding her face in his shoulder so that they can move.

It's scary. Something rustles in the shadows, there's a low scuffle in the distance, but they push on. Ronan is back here somewhere, she's sure of it.

When they finally reach the back end of the barn, there's seemingly nothing there, save for an object on the ground, lying there unceremoniously, as if dropped carelessly by someone else. Adam could trip over it if he's not careful, but when he does notice it it's almost impossible to believe that it was so unassuming at first.

A tire iron lays at Adam's feet, weighty and thick, the end of it drenched in blood. Blood is spattered along the ground nearby, trailing off further into the shadows. It's significant though, there's a sudden heaviness to the air now that Adam is at ground zero, as if the very object itself is a black hole, taking all the spare breath and joy in the room and crushing it into nothingness.

The orphan girl squirms in Adam's arms, whimpering miserably as they stay there. The blood trail spatters back along the ground, black where it's dried, leading ultimately to a huddled dark mass, obscured by shadow and laying against the wall as if it had been dragged there. There's clothing that can be made out from here, the denim of jeans, and boots that fit a teenager more than they would a grown man.]

Don't look.

[His voice is tight, and now he thinks that he should have left her behind. He doesn't know what they'll see, but he knows it's likely that neither of them will want to see this. Adam, of course, would go on even so - he would not stop looking for Ronan, regardless of what he might see - but she shouldn't have to.

At least she can hide her face against his shoulder, close her eyes. It's something. It's all he can offer.

It's hard to tear his eyes from the tire iron. And he knows, of course he knows. The horror of it is almost too much, in this place, in Ronan's dreams. And why shouldn't it be? That, everything it represents, nearly destroyed Ronan. Changed him forever.

Adam looks away. He takes a breath, steels himself, and presses one hand to the back of the girl's head, so she won't look. So it'll be harder for her to look, anyway.

Then he follows the blood trail. He does not hesitate, once he's begun.]

[It's Ronan, of course- who else would it be? He's laying facedown, but the shape of him gives it away as soon as Adam draws near. The scene is recreated from memory, like a painter with a self portrait, and that's the end of the barn, blood soaking into the ground from a fatal wound to the head, drenching his jacket, his shirt, his long, dark curls.

There's no monster who did this, not even a man, it's just there, held inside of this barn like a macabre museum of all the horrors in his memory, kept in pristine condition and ripe for revisiting whenever his mind decides to rebel against him.

But he knows this place now. It has a place in his mind, like everything else does, and when Ronan steps out of the shadows of the barn, he's not angry or struggling or even particularly upset. He's calm, accepting of the scene before him because it's a part of him now, just like the good things, just like Adam or Opal in his arms.]

Sorry it took me so long.

[He finally murmurs, stepping in a little closer and reaching his arms out for Opal.]

I didn't know if it was really you at first.

[Ronan may be calm, Ronan may not be upset, but Adam is. Of course he is. How could he not be? That's a piece of his heart there on the floor, and though he knows it isn't truly Ronan, that it's only a part, that the true Ronan is still alive - for a moment, he was afraid.

He steps close, as if to give Opal to Ronan, but he doesn't let go of her, and he doesn't keep his distance either. He puts his arms around Ronan, as well as he can considering Opal, aware of the fact that he's squishing her between them. He is careful not to make her too uncomfortable, but he needs to touch Ronan, needs to be close to him. And Opal's presence is a comfort as well, in its own strange way.]

Damnit, Ronan.

[His voice is a little shaky. This is a dream, he can't help but know that, but it still feels real. Like a piece of reality. And this, the Ronan on the floor next to them - that feels real, too.]

You scared me.

[Ronan returns the hug, wrapping his arms around Adam's shoulders with Opal between them, holding them both tightly. She squirms a little, uncomfortable, but ultimately far more at ease now that Ronan is here and both he and Adam are embracing around her.]

I know.

[He says it gravely, pulling back just a little to look at him. He's not so casual now that he's realized that Adam can't just shrug this off, and instead he lets himself look at the situation before him, more solemn now that he can smell the blood proper, see the tire iron gleaming on the ground.

It's not a good place for him. He should have tried to intervene earlier, but he hadn't even known Adam was here.]

I didn't mean to- it's not like I expected you to ever be here. This is just... [Ronan's voice trails off, and he looks down, his shoe scuffing at the dried blood smeared across the ground. Jesus.] ...it's in my head. I can't get rid of it.

[He reaches over to ruffle Opal's hair a little, affectionate, pleased to see her despite the circumstances.]

It scares me too.

[Having Ronan there, being able to touch him and know that he's alive, does help calm Adam. It's something he's though about before, something that's scared him - the thought of coming home one day to find Ronan dead, waking up to blood and terror, being unable to help him. He can only imagine how much worse that must be for Ronan, who has had to live that fear.

He pulls back a little, but he doesn't let Ronan go. Opal, between them, is somewhat steady, Adam still supporting her with one arm. With the other, he holds on to Ronan, his hand gripping Ronan's bicep. Not too hard, but not letting go, either.]

I know. There are things in my head I can't get rid of either.

[And Ronan knows him better than anyone. He knows what those things are, just like on some level Adam knew about this. These things are part of them, as horrifying as they might be.]

I didn't expect to see it. I was - I was afraid it might be real.

[Someday. Now.]

You don't have to get rid of it. I won't let it happen.

I know you won't.

[It's gentle and real. Adam knows him better than anybody- knows what's inside of his mind because he's been in it, he's tied to it in a way that nobody can really explain. Adam sacrificed himself for Cabeswater and while it wasn't to Ronan, it was still something wholly Ronan's creation, a life to the magic that was around them both. Adam knows what's in Ronan's soul because it's tied to him as well.

It's a scary thought, but also comforting in a sense. That they're both here together, aware and afraid, but together through it all. Ronan nods, leaning into Adam with a low hum, pressing their foreheads together with his eyes closed.]

I can't promise that this shit will never be real, [he says quietly, because Adam needs to know. That someday, he could wake up next to a bloodied and bruised Ronan, or something even worse. Or that one day, he could wake up to the mask or the gun or anything else in this terrible barn. The risk, while mitigated, is always there and he knows it and Adam has to know it too.]

Just that I'm- it's better. It's further away, and... accepting it as part of myself- [it's hard to explain, and Ronan has never really had the language to do it, but he tries anyway. For Adam.] -it makes it easier to deal with. I know it's there and I think that's enough for it.

Event Log: Dreamwalker the Second

Ronan | Hope

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