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

[hotspurred]

"I am in no hurry," Henry remarks, lifting his own glass in turn.

He drinks, then sets it down.

Smirking, he then says, "You would be the first to accuse me of too little fighting."

It's a jest, of course. Exquisite food and wine, all the comforts of home... they leave Henry in a good mood. As they should. It is his dream, after all.

[so_dark_a_road]

"Nor am I," Curufin concurs. He drinks to that, too.

"Do I accuse you of too little fighting?" Curufin smiles at the jest. "Surely that would be an ungracious thing to say to one of your temperament, your courage, and your background." So far as he knows anything of Henry's story, that is, from seeing a glimpse of it during the Mirror event and hearing Henry tell very briefly a part of it.

And this, he supposes, is another mirror of Henry's life, though of a very different part of it.

[hotspurred]

"Rightly so," Henry laughs.

He spares a long moment of conversation to eat, helping himself to a portion of venison. He takes a sip of wine after, then glances at Curufin curiously.

"If not by feasts and spectacles, then how do your kind celebrate?"

[so_dark_a_road]

Curufin is concentrating on the wine at the moment. He pours another glass and asks with lift of the eyebrows if Henry needs a refill yet.

"Oh, we feast if we get the chance. But we do not love spectacles so much as experiences -- and so we make our own music, and dance until dawn!"

[hotspurred]

"I much prefer jousts."

Which surely comes as no surprise.

Henry glances between Curufin and his glass, then tips back the contents before proffering his now empty cup.

"I am a fair dancer, but I have little talent for music."

It's a pity, really — while his excellent rhythm and dexterity are more than up to the task, he just doesn't have the ear for it.

[so_dark_a_road]

Curufin chuckles. "I suppose you do."

Nope, no surprise there!

Curufin pours Henry a glass of wine.

"You have such skill and grace on the practice floor, with your weapons. I imagine that on the dance floor it would be the same."

"And as for making music, you never know. When I was young, I considered myself to have no talent whatsoever. I used to horrify my poor brother the bard, when I got my hands on an instrument." Small laugh. "And now I entertain at the Speakeasy."

[hotspurred]

Henry chuckles, then remarks dryly, "After how many years of practice? A hundred? A thousand?"

It seems impossible to him to imagine a life so long, and certainly it doesn't help that the elves are so ageless. Truth be told, he still finds it a tad uncanny.