[ The dream takes place on a ship that sails through the sky. It's not exactly traditionally seafaring in appearance, but it's not totally sci-fi, either. It's a weird, vague fusion of magic and science mojo, and proudly lettered on the side is the name--
is the name-
Well. There probably is one. From the dream's location, one of the closed-in but spacious areas below deck, you'd have an awful lot of trouble reading the name anyway.
There are patches of sky visible through the windows, land very, very far below if you go to the trouble of looking. But it's sort of... hazy, down there, too. You might see something and immediately forget what you saw, for all that you know you saw something. Even the room itself occasionally drifts in and out of focus, sometimes in little patches in corners, sometimes as a whole, overcoming every sense with blank, numbing... static. It's always there in this dream. Maybe in the background, negligible white noise. Maybe ringing in the ears like a buzzer, always feeling like it's taken something with it.
Imagine living a hundred years in this ship. A hundred years growing to love your crew in a way you've never experienced-- wholly and uncomplicated, closer than family. A hundred years living the impossible on what was meant to be a brief scientific mission. Seeing wonders and horrors, watching worlds be devoured by a living darkness. A hundred years of growing and learning and changing, of different worlds and different people, of trying desperately to end a deadly chase that seemed greater in scope than you could hope to understand fully.
Imagine something reaching into your mind and slowly, precisely removing that century from your memory. Your found family. Your home. Your long, long mission, and everyone you'd met, and everything you'd learned. Imagine zoning out in the middle of a card game with your close companion, and suddenly opening your eyes in an unfamiliar room, sitting across from a stranger with no explanation. Just a static that permeates your thoughts, makes it hard to focus.
Whatever that feeling is, it's about where Merle is at right now. Sporting a bright red jacket with a blurred-out logo, two whole arms, two functioning eyes, he's seated at a sturdy wooden table. He's clutching the side of his head with one hand, and the other is very loosely holding onto a hand of playing cards, which he eventually lets fall to the table's surface. Maybe there ought to be someone seated across from him, but. If someone's there, they sure aren't anymore.
For a long, long moment, he just stares down at the table, glassy-eyed. Then he jerks upright with a sharp intake of breath, looking around the room in blatant confusion. Which, to be fair, is not too far off from his usual. ]
I-- sorry, who are you? What's- what's your name?
[ That's right. You.
We can play around with this prompt pretty much however. If people want characters impacted by the big shebang memory loss effects and confusion, we can go for it! If they don't want their characters on the bad brain train, that's just as good with me! Going for loosey-goosey confusion vibes. ]
confusion
is the name-
Well. There probably is one. From the dream's location, one of the closed-in but spacious areas below deck, you'd have an awful lot of trouble reading the name anyway.
There are patches of sky visible through the windows, land very, very far below if you go to the trouble of looking. But it's sort of... hazy, down there, too. You might see something and immediately forget what you saw, for all that you know you saw something. Even the room itself occasionally drifts in and out of focus, sometimes in little patches in corners, sometimes as a whole, overcoming every sense with blank, numbing... static. It's always there in this dream. Maybe in the background, negligible white noise. Maybe ringing in the ears like a buzzer, always feeling like it's taken something with it.
Imagine living a hundred years in this ship. A hundred years growing to love your crew in a way you've never experienced-- wholly and uncomplicated, closer than family. A hundred years living the impossible on what was meant to be a brief scientific mission. Seeing wonders and horrors, watching worlds be devoured by a living darkness. A hundred years of growing and learning and changing, of different worlds and different people, of trying desperately to end a deadly chase that seemed greater in scope than you could hope to understand fully.
Imagine something reaching into your mind and slowly, precisely removing that century from your memory. Your found family. Your home. Your long, long mission, and everyone you'd met, and everything you'd learned. Imagine zoning out in the middle of a card game with your close companion, and suddenly opening your eyes in an unfamiliar room, sitting across from a stranger with no explanation. Just a static that permeates your thoughts, makes it hard to focus.
Whatever that feeling is, it's about where Merle is at right now. Sporting a bright red jacket with a blurred-out logo, two whole arms, two functioning eyes, he's seated at a sturdy wooden table. He's clutching the side of his head with one hand, and the other is very loosely holding onto a hand of playing cards, which he eventually lets fall to the table's surface. Maybe there ought to be someone seated across from him, but. If someone's there, they sure aren't anymore.
For a long, long moment, he just stares down at the table, glassy-eyed. Then he jerks upright with a sharp intake of breath, looking around the room in blatant confusion. Which, to be fair, is not too far off from his usual. ]
I-- sorry, who are you? What's- what's your name?
[ That's right. You.
We can play around with this prompt pretty much however. If people want characters impacted by the big shebang memory loss effects and confusion, we can go for it! If they don't want their characters on the bad brain train, that's just as good with me! Going for loosey-goosey confusion vibes. ]