Event Post: Dreamwalker the Second

[hadrielmods]

Who: All characters participating in the event
What: The event log for the second half of the Dreamwalker Part Two event
Where: All over the city!
When: October 23rd-29th
Warnings: All different kinds of dreams falling under Fear, Love, Confusion, and Tranquility

It was over - at least, it seemed to be. The dreams stopped, and maybe you were a little disappointed, or maybe you were just relieved. Maybe, though, you noticed that only four of the gods had been influencing you. Sure, that might have been it, but was there really a chance of that? So, just for a few days, you slept (or didn't sleep) normally.

Until it started again. Those deep, unavoidable sleeps, taking you into vivid and emotional dreams. This time, the other four gods are getting in on the act. Expect some nightmares,
some embarrassingly schmoopy dreams - or dreams that don't make sense, or dreams that leave you calm and centered. You can't force these dreams to be anything but what they are,
so you might as well give in and enjoy the ride. Maybe it won't be so bad.

And of course, there are visitors this time, too. Just when you thought it might be safe to have a candy-colored dream about your secret crush, well... turn around and they might be standing right there, wondering what the hell is going on. By now, people know what to expect, but that doesn't give them any better control over things. Let's hope there's no good blackmail material in these dreams.

► This log covers October 23rd-29th.
► 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 slept so terribly that you trip over a rock and die, please let us know here.

Comments

Aren Brosca | Open

[paragonbrosca]

[Plotting post available!]

Fear (cw: torture, body horror, rape, betrayal)

[paragonbrosca]

The Dead Trenches

When Aren looks around, her blood runs cold as she recognizes her surroundings instantly. The underground fortress was once known as Bownammar, the headquarters for the Legion of the Dead and the bulwark against the darkspawn forces beyond. It had changed hands between them countless times, only to permanently fall to the darkspawn earlier in the Dragon Age. Everything in her screams at the overwhelming sense of wrongness that pervades the area, one sign of the massive number of darkspawn who hold the area.

She doesn't see any just yet, but Aren knows what's coming and she wants no part of it. The dwarven woman turns around, prepared to head back out of the Deep Roads alone, if that's what it takes, but the tunnel that existed behind her is no longer there. There's no way but forward, and any path she tries to take around it only serves to underline that fact. Even standing absolutely still does nothing, as eventually her surroundings advance regardless.

And then she hears that familiar voice, the one that still haunts her to this day. The source of the voice isn't visible, not yet, but seems to echo from everywhere. There's no silencing it and no stopping it, and when the poem is finished, it just starts up again.

First day, they come and catch everyone.

Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat.

Third day, the men are all gnawed on again.

Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate.

Fifth day, they return and it’s another girl’s turn.

Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams.

Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew.

Eighth day, we hated as she is violated.

Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin.

Now she does feast, as she’s become the beast.

Now you lay and wait, for their screams will haunt you in your dreams.

mello | open | will match prose or brackets

[torrefied]

wake up, dead man. (fear; cw blood, mild gore)

You find yourself in a high-ceilinged, dimly lit room. Multiple sets of stairs spider up to other floors, and the smell of something stale and oily hangs in the air, like old cigarette smoke in a bar after close. Once upon a time, this was a factory. Now, the room serves as a clandestine hideout, sparsely furnished with tattered, dingy couches and warped tables propping up a cluster of computers. The monitors here have all gone dead.

You see a number of burly-looking men scattered along the floor of this room, bodies and expressions distorted in poses of undeniable agony. They all died screaming, clutching their chests, collapsing into haphazard piles.

And in the midst of this scene of carnage, you see one man standing, taking in the spectacle before him. He’s relatively lithe of build, clad entirely in black leather, blond hair singed, blood trickling down the left side of his face. Someday, the wound will heal into a grotesque burn scar instead of the bloody blisters there on his face. You look at this man - he’s barely more than a boy, but he carries a heavy weight with him that perhaps makes him seem older - and you might even think he probably used to be quite attractive, before whatever ensued here left its indelible mark on him.

You see this figure - he’s silent, still. The faint ins and outs of his breathing are the only indication that he’s any different from the corpses sprawled out on the floor in front of him. You approach - slowly, hesitant, because there’s a certain air of something fearsome about this entire tableau - and the man turns to look at you.

“‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,’” he says.

[am_i_a_monster]

Abigail steps around the bodies carefully, trying not to break down at the sight of them. Each one reminds her of Nicholas Boyle, the man she killed. She reminds herself that she doesn't have to look. Jack Crawford's not here to make her. But the police could be coming to blame her for whatever is going on. Or whoever hurt these men could return and kill her. She desperately needs a way out.

She looks up slowly at the one man that's still alive. The blood and blisters make him look like a victim, a survivor, and surviving this frightening place is what she wants. She walks up to him slowly.

"Why?" She asks. "Where are we? What happened here?"

taako | ota

[pocketspa]

[ooc: plotting comment is here, feel free to hit me up at cancerously for clarification or further plotting!!]

fear;; i'm addicted to you, don't you know that you're toxic?

[At first, this could be mistaken for a happier dream. It’s the middle of a frontier town, not ‘modern’ by many standards, but modern by his; the buildings are clean, the roads dirt but clear, and the scene opens on a large market square, taken up by a fairly sizeable crowd. Most are strangers, but those who know Taako will see familiar faces; just about everyone he knows is here, Hadrielites and otherwise, watching intently. Taako himself is at the front, inside of a large wagon with an intricate cooking setup inside, the words Sizzle It Up! With Taako written perfectly across the front under the large cutout in the side. Despite being naturally long-lived, Taako looks younger here, long hair pulled back and away from his face as not to interrupt the demonstration. He seems to be working on some sort of chicken dish, and chattering away the entire time as he works, showing off entirely pointless magic. He twists his wrist to peel the skin off a garlic clove, a mage hand tilting the pan he’s working in to show to the audience how he’s arranging a chicken breast inside as it cooks.]

Now, you wanna slice the garlic in thin discs, so it’ll really dissolve into the sauce. It’ll be ready in just a few minutes, and uh, not to brag—oh, what am I saying, totally to brag—you’re gonna taste the dish of your lives.

[It’s happy, for now. Nothing seems like it’s wrong. Taako is smiling, charmed beyond reason, looking confident and on top of the world.

But if you stick around, don’t eat what he’s about to serve. But maybe you don’t know that, either.]

confusion;; too high, can't come down; losin' my head spinnin' 'round and 'round

[The scene opens up high in the sky. It seems to be on the deck of a ship, one part seafaring and one part space explorer; the rail off to the side looks nautical, but the whole thing is metal, the floor wood beneath your feet. If you looked over the side, a massive field in the middle of a bigger forest below, clearly in the middle of nowhere. But it only goes so far.

Outside of the main ring of grass and a line of trees, is solid static. It rolls over the landscape in waves, coming in from the horizon, moving more like a clawing motion of tar than any kind of liquid. As it passes over a piece of land, it consumes; first, coating it like a paint, and then melting the shapes inside into the continued mass. It’s not moving incredibly quickly, but it’s moving, and it’s coming from every direction. In little time, this whole place will be consumed.

Taako, meanwhile, is nearby, standing in front of the only door on this deck, looking into the darkness inside. He doesn’t seem to notice anything around him, or anyone else’s presence; he’s gripping his head, looking dazed, hand holding onto the edge of the doorframe but struggling to stand upright. He’s not dressed as he usually is, this time decked in a long, red robe, with a patch labelled “IPRE” on the left side breast. Except… that’s a little hard to focus on, for some reason. The letters blur together, and if you see it, you don’t seem to remember what it said afterwards.

Finally, he breaks the silence in a shuddering gasp, and as he breathes the whole landscape seems to shift with him in a rippled haze.]

Where... where is this?

fear;

[restinglichface]

[Another day, another dream, huh? Lup's been through this over and over the last two weeks, so it isn't anything new. Though it is a surprise to end up in another one of her brother's dreams for a second night.

The woman takes in the scenery before her, the stage coach, the surprisingly familiar name blazoned on the side, the man running the show. It would be easy for her to slip up to the front of the crowd, to catch Taako's eye and maybe heckle him a little just to get the crowd laughing, but Lup stays back instead, content to just watch her brother work from afar. He looks completely in his element, every move he makes confident and practiced, his expression charming and sincerely happy.

After how pleasant his last dream turned out, Lup can barely keep her excitement in check to see where this one is going.]

Atem

[puzzlingly]

「Dreams in comments in case I add a new one. Will match format. PM if you've got questions or wanna plot something! Witness my awesome copy-paste powers!」

confusion | ota

[puzzlingly]

「How did you get here? All right, let us start with, where the hell is here?!

You're in maze. A maze where you cannot tell the floor from the ceiling, made out of sandstone that hasn't felt the touch of sun in thousands of years.

It has to be the most gloomy place you've ever been in, terribly confusing too. It feels a little chilly, a little dead. Somehow, even if you've never been in one, it feels like a tomb. Not just any kind of tomb, maybe it's those intricate graphics on the walls what give it away, hieroglyphs, maybe? It's hard to tell, they are too eroded by the pass of time that it makes it too hard to read them at all.

But enough about that, you're here and you're lost, in every meaning of the word. All you see are these stairs that go everywhere and nowhere, gravity even seems to be non existent in here. You cannot ignore the doors either, there are so many of them wherever you turn to.

Where do you turn to by the way?

Left, or right? Up or down...? Will you open that door? It might be the exit... or you know, it might not. Make your choice:

1. Left
Good choice! Only, it doens't really matter, you keep finding these stupid doors and these stupid stairs that lead nowhere, until you see it, a silhouette up ahead, maybe another one that got lost or just someone who lives here, but who the hell would live here anyway? Chase them and find out?

2. Right
You find yourself in front of a door, just like the rest of them, plain and boring, a little sinister, made of rusty metal. You feel something when you touch the handle, though you're not sure what it is, are you angry? Are you sad? Why don't you open it and find out? *

3. ???
You know what? You don't have to do anything either if you don't want to, you can just sit there and cry or meditate, for all we care! Or you can also just try something else to get out of here, the sky is the limit. If only you could see it... hmm.

Just be mindful, the more you wander, the more complicated it gets.」



(*ooc; Atem's soul room is made completely out of traps, it doesn't necessarily reflect Atem's fears nor memories, but your characters', if they open a door, they will probably witness a memory, it can be just about anything but it has to be something powerful, something that has marked them during their life, and while it doesn't necessarily has to be bad, it tends to be a painful memory. They may also find just a monster... oops? This place was made to test them. Go wild.)

Ed Grayson | OTA | Fear

[has_been_faking]

[Ed hasn't slept in literal decades. Due to an alchemical misfire, he's been wide awake for over 50 years. Unaging and immortal, too, but those parts were intentional. He's going to have a hard time believing he's dreaming. He's forgotten what it's like.

It's not an easy rest, though. The dream you enter is anxious and turbulent one, flashing out of order. Ed is running through the streets of a city - San Francisco in the 1940s, if you're the type of person to recognize that - while the sound of sirens wail not too far in the distance; Ed standing in shock as the blood-drenched body of a young man is rolled by on a stretcher, uncovered, his eyes still somehow seething with anger in Ed's direction as it passes; Ed looking out a third-story window to a street below where zombies have started to trickle in, much to the confusion of people outside who either stare or start to make a break for it; a radio blaring the news of hundreds dead in the city due to an unprecedented magic-related attack, the news anchor sounding like they're having a hard time even comprehending what they're reporting.

It finally ends with Ed running into the basement of a house, tossing aside a bag of spellbooks and components and locking the door behind him. There are several locks on the door, and he even takes a piece of chalk and hurriedly scrawls some symbols on it as well. That's when he sees you, standing in his basement lab. The dim room is filled with shelves and boxes, filled with books and jars and bottles and tins. It's a bit dusty and cluttered, but everything is meticulously labeled in Latin or Greek or in symbols. A shellshocked Ed stares at you for a moment before taking a few steps back, towards a specific shelf.]

Who're you.

[toiletseat_girl]

[George can tell that they're sometime in the past, though she can't lock it down to San Francisco. she sees the corpse wheeled by, she sees the zombies (really?) slowly trickle in, hears the radio giving the news of the deaths of hundreds in a magic attack, hears the newscaster sounding like the rug has just been pulled out from under him. all of it passes so quickly, she can't make heads or tails of what's going on

she finds herself in the lab, looking around at the unfamiliar books and names and symbols all around her. she tries to decipher some of the writing, given that she's a nerd who took Latin back in high school, but before she can, she hears a voice asking her who she is]

Uh. I'm George? Hi.

alphys | ota!

[sciencelizard]

[ooc: Plotting comment is here, feel free to hit me up at cancerously for further plotting or a closed comment!!]

love/tranquility;; let it go, this too shall pass; (you know you can't keep lettin' it get you down)

[The dream opens with the front door to Delight’s Housing, apartment 3. Alphys has been in Hadriel over a year, and she’s only ever lived here- where Sans brought her day 1 from the Coliseum, where Papyrus was waiting, where she’s lived every happy and painful day on from the beginning.

They’re here now. The door opens, and the couch straight down from the landing is visibly full- two skeletons, one short in a blue hoodie, and one tall in a red neck scarf, turned so they’re beaming towards the door. Alphys’ head spines reach over the back of the couch, her body turned so her eyes just peek over the back, small hands on the front. And finally, at the end, a woman with blue scaled skin, fins on the side of her face and long, red hair pulled into a ponytail, an eyepatch over one eye.

They look like they’re waiting for someone. Probably you, who just walked in the door. Because the second it opens, a large bucket of water falls down directly on your head.

The monster crew on the couch breaks into laughter, the taller skeleton and fish woman laughing loudly while Alphys and the smaller giggle, shoulders shaking. The house is warm, and inviting, and finally, the smaller skeleton speaks, humor still in his voice.]

Heh. Got you.

[Alphys pushes her hands over her mouth, laughing herself, but trying to subside it long enough to talk. As she does, the fishy woman leans over, curling an arm around her and placing a kiss to the top of her head. Alphys smiles again, cheeks red, but she speaks.]

Sorry! You w-were the last one in. But uh, come in!! You’re not late. We’re just getting started!

[She beckons you down the stairs to where they are, and for once, everything seems to be at peace.]

Walks in late with a multi-post [1/3]

[mttbrandlegs]

[Mettaton lifts the bucket, revealing at least half of an annoyed expression before he speaks.]

That was not funny, Sans. What if you'd shorted--

Rey.

[circumitus]

[OOC: Like with the last post (only this time for real), will tag here for dream threads. Hit me up at my plotting comment or contact me if you'd like to do something super special awesome for our dudes.]

Confusion: Concordia/Synthe City. (OTA)

[circumitus]

It's a city -- of that there is no doubt. But it bears no similarities to the underground cave that is Hadriel.

Here, there is sky. The frozen air stretches so high up, that maybe you forgot what it must have felt like. That might be your immediate thought.

The next night be the cold. The icy, subarctic temperature would make it impossible for an average human to survive more than a few minutes from exposure alone. Mist puffs past your lips with every breath; the cold maybe stabbing your lungs if you're susceptible to it.

Despite the vibrance of green and blue lights and an emerald haze that lifts from the city streets, the place is eerily quiet. No commotion of conversation, no bustling of denizens on the sidewalks and in their cars. This would almost be beautiful about these lights and colors, these curious winding alleys and luminescent streets -- if there wasn't also something so wrong about it all.

It is a city, but it is likely one that you have never known. Instead of concrete, the ground beneath your feet is a glassy sheen of pale blue. The individuals that resemble human shapes, for instance, do not appear quite right. Most bear lines of varied shapes that attach their necks, skulls, joints... holding their bodies together. Some wear clothes, while others walk bare, only to reveal that they aren't quite naked so much as devoid of the anatomy that would make them any particular organism capable of conventional reproduction. And then there are giant machines that resemble nothing remotely human. In lieu of vehicles, the elephant-sized robotic beings seem to serve as some form of transportation, though for what it's hard to tell.

One thing is certain: You do not belong here. And it isn't long before the humanoid machines start to notice; they turn their blank white eyes in your direction as they walk by, the deafening hum filling your ears becoming an unbearable echo.

eddie kaspbrak | open

[multivitamins]

Fear (cw: disease)

[ Whilst Eddie is aware that there are some weird dream things going on right now, the fact that he's currently stuck in one doesn't even cross his mind. Not when the scene playing out is as horrifying as it is. On first inspection one would be forgiven for thinking they were just in any hospital waiting room. It's Derry Hospital's Emergency Room, but amped to the nth power when it comes to downright horror. It's full of people in varying states of decay, each one coughing and hacking, wheezing and sneezing. It's like plague central in there and then some even to a normal person, let alone a hypochondriac such as Eddie Kaspbrak who is currently sitting in a corner of the room with both hands covering his nose and mouth.

It's the worst. Every door in the large room is locked, the windows unbreakable and there's no way out it would seem. Some people are taken out of the room with a "doctor will see you now" announcement. They aren't seen again, only heard when they let out a blood curdling shriek that's cut off quickly with the sounds of gurgling and spatter. There's no rhyme or reason as to who gets chosen and when, it's completely random. And then there's the star of this nightmare, the one thing that still haunts Eddie even now far away in Hadriel; the leper. It's a tall, gangling thing, one leg immensely thicker than the other as it shuffles from person to person. Everything about this creature just screams disease as it's open wounds ooze and leak everywhere. It moves slowly around the group of people in the seats and from time to time will pull out a pill to press it into a person's mouth with it's long, decaying fingers.

Eddie's sure if that thing even lays a finger on him again he'll just die. No need for a murder, he'll just perish in an absolute instant. For now though he's going to stay put in the corner, ignoring how the tips of his fingers are red and bloody from attempting to claw his way out through a door or window prior. Maybe if he stays small enough that thing won't notice him.]

Love & tranquility

[ It's a glorious summer's day, the sun is shining and the sky is the brightest of blues. It's perfect for any activity, though there's one that sticks out in Eddie's mind the most, the one where they all came together as a group and it's this one that's reflected in Eddie's dream for now. A large quarry filled with turquoise water, shimmering where the sun hits it. Everyone has shown up to jump on in, there are water fights, splashing and shrieking all around. It's enough that even Eddie is joining in without a care in the world (nor a worry on what could be in that water). In this moment Eddie knows that this is right and that the seven of them were meant to be friends. Simple as. And the realization that he would die for Bill, for his friends, is not as scary a thought as it should be. He loves his friends, he loves what they can do together and the fact that they can have fun like this even in the most dire of times. Splashing around and playing with his friends it's easy to feel immortal and to believe anything that dares come at them would be dealt with. Nothing can burst this bubble.

Which is why the nearest person to Eddie had better duck quickly as he sends a wave crashing their way with a flick of an (unbroken) arm.]

Love & tranquility

[roseofthetyrells]

[Margaery smiles as she watches the children at play and takes in her surroundings. this is how it should be for children, with no fears of losing their parents to war or disease or famine.

because she's so caught up in watching them play, she's not paying as close of attention to herself as perhaps she ought to. which is why she gets nailed by the wave. she sputters a moment to get the water out of her mouth and says]

All right, Eddie. You got me. Don't make me get you back.

Richie Tozier | OTA

[trashmouths]

Fear;
[ You hear a wolf. It's a long, mournful howl, but a hungry one. The streets of a small town in the United States--Maine, specifically--and it's empty. There's a pile of children's bikes right in the middle of the street, only one of them properly parked via kickstand, and the howl happens again.

Richie is running. There's no japes, no curses, no language--Richie is running to the only place that has an open door. The house on Neibolt street. The howl turns into a growl. Richie panics. ]

Gogogogogo--

[ Whether he acknowledges you or not is hard to say, but either way, by dreamshift or following him, he's reached the house and is trying his best to barricade the door with rotted furniture, ignoring cobwebs. Panicking.

There's a red balloon in the room, floating. ]


Tranquility;

[ It's day, at least. It's day and there are children by the riverbank, the sound of a train going by the bridge above them. The grass is cool, the air is warm, and there'a an overwhelming sense of peace. Richie is there, in a circle. Those citizens of Hadriel can spot Eddie Kaspbrak, broken arm and everything, right next to him. The only girl there has red hair and a smile that seems sad.

One of the kids--the one on Richie's other side--makes them promise. That if it's not done, if they didn't kill It, they come back. He picks up a shard from the bottom of a coke bottle and cuts himself. Richie doesn't hesitate: he holds out his palm.

Finally, it's tranquil. Finally, they can rest. He glances over. ]

You're not supposed to be here.

[ He's not mad, just confused. His hand is dripping with blood. None of the group seems to notice the dream visitor except for him. ]

fear!

[evocation]

[Kyna doesn't know where the hell she is at first, and the howling doesn't do much to clue her in. It's a town, sure, but not remote enough for wolves, and so the sound makes her hair stand on end. She doesn't have much time to fully register what's happening, because soon enough Richie is sprinting past her. Kyna has barely taken a step forward to follow when the dream shifts, and they're in a house. It's like something out of a horror movie.]

Richie? Are you okay?

Maketh Tua | ota

[mismanagement]

Fear

This dream is fragmented. It starts and stops in pieces. Stutters. Rewinds. Repeats.

It starts like this.

You're a fly on the wall, metaphorically, watching the occupants of a small farm house. One of them is a young girl, blonde hair in pigtail braids, wearing worn clothes. She is holding onto a squirming loth cat. The other woman is older, taller, with thick glasses barely hiding the scar tissue underneath. The older woman is blonde as well. Once, her eyes were brown. Today she has no eyes at all, only red sunglasses. Years ago, shrapnel dashed them out. She has never seen her daughter, but is not concerned by this. One day, Maketh will have the same sharp chin.

Somehow, you know this. The dream insists.

The older woman is Maize. She is showing her daughter a small device. It looks like remote control.

"We're going to play a game now, my girl. Will you be brave for me?"

Maketh, six years old and already serious, nods just once. The loth cat growls in her arms.

Her mother smiles.

And the dream changes.

Maize is in armor. She does not look like a farmer now. There are notches on her armor, all the way down her back and up both arms, and in this dream, you know suddenly that these are kill-counts. You know that Maize has rigged her armor with motion sensors and automatic targeting systems. You know that she has a personal shield and camouflage equipment. You watch her fade from view and then return just as quickly to her daughter, still holding the cat.

You know that this woman is preparing to go hunting. And you know, deep down, that her blindness will not slow her in the least.

"Understand, my girl, these men will take our home. They will kill your father. You don't want that to happen, now, do you?"

The young Maketh shakes her head.

"No. You are my brave girl," Maize says, softly. "You remember the game, don't you? It's a very simple game. You'll win if you're brave."

And the dream shudders. Lurches forward.

"The game is called Paint the Target. We're going to have such fun, you and I."

You're in the desert now. The farmhouse is in the distance, toy-sized.

Four men in ramshackle armor have surrounded Maketh. Instead of the cat, she's holding a remote. You know, somehow, that these men are raiders. That they've been here before. That they are not afraid of a single child.

"What are you doing, kid? Where's your father?"

Maketh stares up at them. Then, one by one, she points the remote at them.

Click.

"I'm painting the target," she explains.

They don't understand. They don't see Maize descending on them with her sword and blaster until after the first shot is fired and the second body drops.

Blood hits the sand. Someone - surely not you - screams.

Slowly, Maketh's mother shimmers out of view.

And Maketh turns. This time, she sees you. She's holding the remote. Painting targets.

Click.

Love

You know this place. The Speakeasy in Hadriel has come to mean a lot of things to a lot of people over the past few months. It's a sanctuary in this dream, a place where people are laughing and dancing, in animate conversation with each other. Drinks flow easily and no one is fighting. No one is worried about the gods.

Rey is tending bar. Mead is the drink of choice tonight.

And a little out of the way, Maketh stands back and watches Rey. Both of them are smiling. Fond.

Maketh has a glass and she drinks slowly. And though she watches the whole room, her focus is entirely on Rey.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

But you know what she means.

I AM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE | Fear Pls

[whistlewhilstyouwork]

Maketh

[Whistler barely manages to get the name out of his mouth before he's trying to duck to the side. He both does and doesn't understand what is happening. He has what strange, unearned knowledge the dream has instilled in him, but at the same time he doesn't know these places. These conflicts. These people...except the one.

And most of all, he doesn't understand why suddenly he can see her. And though he's never laid eyes on a person, let alone Maketh, he knows it is her.]

Don't!

[Don't what? He's not sure. But he knows he doesn't want to be the next body in the sand]

Trafalgar Law - OPEN

[hot_mes]

On one single night, FEAR takes hold and makes Law a host...

There is a particular figure serving as the centerpiece of this nightmare. Nine feet tall and shrouded in pink feathers, this man is no one anyone wants to mess with. Rather than tap into Law's rage or his grief, memories and dreams of his worst enemy run on pure, cold Fear. It's hard to tell which ones are memories of what really happened and which are fears of what could have been, what could still be...

I.
[It's something straight out of a horror movie - the dark, barely-lit metal corridors of some kind of structure, twisting and turning this way and that, with vague sounds of clanking and groaning echoing up and down them. Obviously this is a ship - a submarine, in fact - though the crew that should be manning it is strangely absent. It's empty and dark, and the unnerving sounds could be anything from a loose rudder to the pressure of the deep sea crushing the hull. Crisp footsteps prowl slowly along the metal floors, and then the shadow appears around a corner, hulking and feathery with a glint of red where the eyes should be. It's merely a trick of the light on sunglass lenses, but it looks monstrous, given Law's reaction to it.

He stands to bar the way between this intruder and anyone behind him, though as he gives back a step and crooks his fingers as if to call up a Room, his teeth are gritted and sweat beads on his brow. He's obviously scared of this person being here.]

You shouldn't be here! [wait, was that to his enemy or to the person behind him?]

II.
[The villain of his nightmares is in Hadriel, the Door has brought him just the same as anyone else. Free of seastone shackles and a prison uniform, Donquixote Doflamingo is enjoying his freedom exactly as Law would expect him to. But the terrible thing is, he's been talking to people, telling them all about Trafalgar Law the traitor, the enemy of the gods, using his natural charisma to convince anyone who'll listen that he's been abused at the hands of this brat and they really shouldn't be surprised if he's the one who's selling them out to the Null. Law himself is leaning against a wall, listening in horror, as Doflamingo purrs his argument to passersby.]

Do you know what he did? He betrayed me and our entire crew. If you don't realize it, yet, we pirates take betrayal very seriously. The first rule of pirates is that your crew is your family - anyone who messes with them has to die. Anyone who attacks another crew member should be executed for their treason. Not only did he abandon us, he attacked me. Nearly killed me! Oh, he tried. I came so very close to death at his hands. Do you really think old dogs can learn new tricks? I'm sure he's only looking out for himself, even here. He'd do anything to get what he wants, even kill innocent people. Once a traitor, always a traitor.

[As much as Law wants to pull people aside and assure them it isn't true, confronting Doflamingo is useless. He'll just deny everything. Who will even believe Law, when he genuinely did try to kill this man?]

III.
[Oh, who actually sold them out to the Null? Of course it was Doflamingo. He would never suffer letting anyone else call themselves gods in front of him, the chosen king of destruction! The fight is starting already, but the worst part isn't the cruel, sadistic laugh as he watches people come to the realization that he's brokered some kind of deal to his sole personal benefit in exchange for their deaths. No, as far as Law's concerned, the real terror is in the cage of strings enclosing all of Hadriel.

Thin as any twine but razor-sharp, the strings shimmer against the daylight-like haze of the cavern roof. No one can escape. They're all trapped inside the Birdcage, and no matter how hard anyone hits or cuts or explodes them, the strings don't break. Law's absolute fear of this happening for a third time in his life has him paralyzed on his knees. Before he can warn anyone, Doflamingo lifts a hand, revealing that he's holding the very gun given to Law at the end of the paintball game. And he's definitely going to shoot him with it.]

IV.
[The scene shifts instantly from imaginary fear to actual memory, though no one watching would know it. The Birdcage is the same, glistening now against a cloudy sky. Law on his knees is mostly the same, except he's dirty and bloody, wearing the same coat he had in his Hope dream, and he's missing his right arm. Doflamingo is the same, only the gun is different. The rest is chaos: a room that really shouldn't be open to the skies given how nice the carpet is (or was before the pools of blood), the walls cleanly sliced about three feet up from the floor and missing. Flames, rubble, blood. It all happens too fast - a shot fired, Law collapsing with a scream. His fear here is that it's going to turn out differently - the bullet is closer to his heart, he doesn't have the stamina to bring up a Room, he can't escape before the rest of the gun is emptied into his body. He's not going to get his chance. Straw Hat won't make it in time. Straw Hat isn't here. This is where he dies.]


[ooc: feel free to mix the prompts, as Law's nightmares tend to jump from one to the next rapidly - Doflamingo never goes away, he only just changes proximity to his victims in each scene. Witness the changes or just one horror show.]

III

[roseofthetyrells]

[Margaery still knows nothing of fighting, knows nothing of defending herself, but it seems useless to try and do anything about the wires holding them in place.

she does see her friend on his knees and goes to his side, placing what's meant to be a comforting hand on his back.

suddenly, she sees the other man, the one who betrayed them, holding a gun to Law's head and she can't help yelling]

NO!

Margaery Tyrell

[roseofthetyrells]

Dreams in comments, all but one OTA. Please contact me as argustar on Plurk if you have any questions or wish to do some plotting.

Love - Closed to Matt Murdock

[roseofthetyrells]

[it's nighttime, or what passes for night in Hadriel. Margaery Tyrell sits in her open window, leaning out with her head and upper torso up against the top of the opened window, legs dangling over the edge, shoes off and barefooted. she's wearing this dress which exposes her bare back.

the scents emerging from the window are those of a freshly baked apple tart, white wine that's been opened and allowed to breathe, and Margaery's own scent of roses. she's clearly expecting a visitor and not one who'd necessarily come in the front door.

Margaery smiles to herself like she has the most delightful secret and waits for her visitor]

Kain Highwind | OTA

[dragonsgrasp]

Fear 1

[An open grave awaits, with a headstone already set up right next to it. As Kain approaches, he slips, falls, and goes tumbling down into the grave… The dream visitor might notice that the grave bears his name: Kain Highwind.]

[The scene shifts.]

[It’s deep and dark, somewhere underground, in the earth and the dirt. As Kain crawls along a tunnel, the whole thing seems to be closing in on him, becoming tighter and more confined. He’s finding it hard to breathe, the further he goes… and soon enough, he reaches a point where he’s stuck, unable to go either forward or backward. Stuck, panicking, with no sky in sight, Kain cries out for help, trying to move his arms around, to dig himself out… but he doesn’t know which direction to even go in.]

[He’s trapped, stuck, and screaming to be heard.]

Fear 2

Kain…

You’re nothing. Nothing but a pawn. A plaything.

Kain… you belong to me

[Everything is black and empty at first, aside from these sinister voices cutting through that darkness.]

You have no control. No mind of your own.

You are mine to use as I wish.

Mine to command. Mine to conquer and kill…

You will fight when I say to fight. Kill who I say to kill.

Puppet.

[A spotlight shines forth suddenly. It’s intensely bright as it illuminates a figure suspended in the air. Look closer and you’ll see that the figure is Kain. He’s suspended by strings that are being pulled by some unseen force above, making him appear exactly like a life-sized marionette. Each spot where a string attaches is bleeding, and the blood spurts out worse whenever those strings are pulled. Every time that the strings are moved, Kain moves, unable to stop himself from doing as he’s commanded.]

Love

[A pleasant floral scent fills the air of the castle ballroom, which is lavishly decorated, with roses being especially prominent among the various flower arrangements. There’s plenty of delicious wine and food, an entire feast set out for the formally-dressed guests who mingle around, chatting and laughing. Romantic music plays softly in the background, setting the mood.]

[In the center of the room, Kain dances. He’s not alone, though, and the blonde woman he’s dancing with is in bridal attire. In fact, Kain’s outfit also looks to be fit for a groom’s, and the rings on both their fingers are probably another give-away as to who this happy event is intended for. The couple dances a bit more, before slowing down and gazing into each others’ eyes...]

[Kain leans in to kiss Rosa, his arms drawing her into a loving embrace.]

Confusion

[It’s a nice day in Baron, as Kain walks along, calmly and casually. Of course, that doesn’t last long. Soon enough, all of the faces of all the people he passes start to melt away, becoming featureless, indistinguishable.]

[Even as he approaches his two best friends, Rosa and Cecil, their faces also melt away, until they can no longer be seen. Kain reaches for them, but they start to fade more and more. The same happens for all the other people he knows from home, all of their faces disappearing into a blob of nothingness. Even Rydia appears among them: she may look familiar to people who’ve met her, at least, until her face also vanishes.]

[Soon enough, the rest of the scenery starts to disintegrate as well, breaking apart slowly but steadily into small pieces that float away. Kain starts to try and outrun the crumbling landscape, but as he does this, he keeps bumping into the faceless people.]

Who- who are you!?

[Even the friends he’d once known before are utterly unrecognizable to him as he hurries along, his memories of home rapidly slipping away...]

Tranquility

[It’s a peaceful night, out under an open sky. A warm campfire crackles nearby, and tents have been set up all around the area. There are a bunch of others there, as well. People from Kain’s home and the War of the Gods alike mingle in the campfire light, eating, joking, talking, and generally enjoying this quiet reprieve from battle.]

[At some point, Kain motions to whoever’s joined this dream with him.]

Let’s go see the stars.

[That was a tradition of his, any time he was able and it was possible, while they were camped for the night. Even as much as he… actually does enjoy being here with everyone, he always needs his little piece of solitude as well. Sometimes he’d go alone, but sometimes he’d bring a friend along…]

[A gentle breeze stirs the air as Kain leads the way into the darkness. He can still see the glow of the fire, not far off, and feels at ease knowing it’s there waiting for them. For now, he takes a deep breath and looks up toward the clear, starry sky...]

Fear 1

[paragonbrosca]

[Being underground normally doesn't faze Aren, unless it's the Dead Trenches. She was born underground, lived most of her life underground. If circumstances hadn't intervened the way they had, she'd have died underground, too. It wasn't anything new to her.

And yet, the way the tunnel is becoming steadily more confined fills her with unease. She takes out her blades, as much to use their light to see by as anything else, but when the screaming is heard, she rushes forward.]

Hey! I hear you!!

lup | open & closed | (late game TAZ spoilers abound)

[restinglichface]

[OOC: Plotting comments for Fear and Confusion. Hit me up on meyggy if you want to chat things over!]

Fear; OPEN

[The setting is simple. We open outside of a cozy, but attractive cottage set against a scenic hillside, trees splattered far off in the background. It's mid-morning, a single sun beating down above the small home, and standing at the front door is Lup. She looks the same as she did before losing her body in Hadriel, with those same sharp, elven features, her skin eternally smooth and youthful. The only signs of aging on her face are found in the tiny lines around her eyes, skin creased there from centuries upon centuries of laughing.

Without a word, she thrusts a small bouquet of wildflowers in your direction, then immediately runs her hands down the length of her pale blue dress, smoothing out the skirt before she's popping the collar of her red jacket she'd thrown over it. Flipping her long braid over her shoulder, the woman lifts arms and presents herself to you.] Well, how do I look? Give it to me straight.


Confusion; OPEN TO LUP'S CLOSE CR

[This is a memory, somehow without even being told you know this to be true.

You open your eyes and you're in a cafeteria, standing in the middle of a shuffling crowd of various humanoid figures. Humans, dwarves, elves, gnomes, tieflings; all types of differing races occupy this space. A towering dragonborn and a gnome slip onto the same bench with their lunch trays to eat together, as a pair of orc women stand near the entrance of the cafeteria, blocking the flow of traffic while exchanging research notes. The only commonality between all of the figures in the room is the color red. Some are dressed in red jackets, some are draped in red robes, but each person is distinctly wearing the color of this organization.

Eventually, Lup appears among the masses, dressed in the same red jacket, with her twin at her side, the two holding hands while they elbow their way through the crowd, their high-pitched laughter loud enough to be heard about the noise of the cafeteria.]

I can't believe anyone would look a this slop and call it food. Pretty sure they scraped that shit up off the bottom of that dump they call a pool.

[Another round of laughter before Lup is suddenly jostled, her skinny frame teetering forward before she rights herself again. She turns to find the culprit, an unfamiliar young woman, looking adorably embarrassed as she quickly stoops to fetch everything she'd dropped in the collision, currently reaching for a pen that was trying to roll away. Without missing a beat, Lup releases Taako's hand and follows, kneeling to the ground to pick up a book that had clattered by her feet. The elf rises with it and stares down at it's plain cover, flipping it over to find the backside just as equally undecorated. Boring.

She thrusts the book out to the other woman as she stands, Lup already raising up her free hand to quiet her when the stranger looks like she's about to apologize.] No sweat, sis. This one's free. [And with a quick grin and a wink, Lup turns back to Taako, her arm sliding into place around his waist, before they disappear into the crowd.]

Fear

[outofthefire]

[Laura has never seen an elf before. she's heard of them, thanks to Aren, but that's different from seeing one.

she takes in her surroundings. the little cottage, the scenic hillside, the trees in the background, it all seems idyllic to her. nothing at all like Twin Peaks.

then, suddenly there's a bouquet of wildflowers being shoved in Laura's direction. out of sheer reflex, Laura manages to grab hold of them and not let them fall. then, she's asked her opinion on how the elf looks. Laura could lie, but in this case she doesn't have to]

You look beautiful.

Carlisle Longinmouth

[tongueamok]

[fear - closed to Glacius]

[tongueamok]

The Inquisitors met outside the Longinmouth estate that night. It had been the afternoon in Carlisle's memory, and at his church rather than his home, but as his dreams sought to paint a more frightening picture, nighttime was the superior choice. Carlisle had a lot of fears: of course the dark was one of them. Also included on that long list was the Inquisitor's masks, amalgamations of leather and metal that were crafted to protect not only them from the toxins and fumes they would use to capture wayward fugitives, but also their identities from being discovered. It was easier to fear them when one had no idea who -- or what -- they might be.

The what didn't matter once the masks were donned. They were Inquisitors, and that was terrifying enough in most cases.

The group of them circled, trying to come up with a plan of action. The suggestion was made to send one of them to the door of the Longinmouth estate to see if they could just convince the man inside to come out without a fuss. The manor high above them is imposing, despite the light from the window shining down the path to where their carriage awaits, but it's not the person within who poses much of a threat. There are surely traps within the garden that creeps around the corner of the house, protections and wards set in place for anyone approaching with ill intent. The family was known for capturing dangerous beasts, besting them with both cunning and magic... and this man is the Longinmouth heir, after all.

And cursed. That much goes unsaid.

It would be easier for an individual to handle any traps, but when no one readily volunteers, the captain -- he has a feather in his mask to mark him -- picks one. He goes for the biggest fellow among them, just in case the last Longinmouth has as much fight in him as the rest of his bloodline.

"You." His voice is a dry rattle, his throat long ruined by the noxious gases they often employ. "See what you can do, and be careful."

And with that, the rest of them slink back into the shadows of their wagon, waiting as silently as the dead.

Washington | OTA

[hardwearing]

(( dreams in comments! hmu at cuddlebug for plotting! ))

CONFUSION (cw: references to torture, self harm, suicide)

[hardwearing]

You're in a cell.

There's padding bolted to the walls and floor, once white and pristine but now smeared with blood. No one has bothered to clean it up.

A man with mussed dirty blond hair and a few days growth of beard is curled up in the corner, his blue eyes rimmed with red and accented by bruise-dark circles, staring at nothing. He's barefoot, in white scrubs, and both his arms are heavily bandaged though he's not restrained. Not right now. It doesn't seem necessary -- is he drugged?

A voice comes from somewhere. That speaker on the ceiling maybe? Or is it just in your head?

"Agent Washington." There's no response, no acknowledgment from the man in the corner, and the voice continues. Smooth and calm. "Has the medication taken effect? Are you feeling better, Agent Washington?"

"Allison?"

No. It's a man's voice, seemingly unperturbed by this mistake. "I know this is difficult, but try to focus. What is your name?"

"I'm..." His head falls forward, and you can see that there's an angry lightning-webbed scars spreading out from the implant at the base of his skull. It looks fresh. It looks like it hurts. Wash reaches up to grab at his head, and there's blood under his fingernails.

"Your name is David."

"No. I'm... Church. I'm..." Lost. Alone. Hurting. No one's come for him. No one cares. He's been left behind here, with just the voice in the ceiling and the ones in his head. You can hear that now, a woman's laughter turning to screams. Wash clutches at his hair, tearing some out, and when he lifts his head again there are tears streaming down his face. Whatever he's seeing, it's horrible. "Allison..."

He just wants to die with her. That's all he wants. For the pain to stop. He tried, back when they'd given him a mattress, had dug a spring out and cut into his wrists to tear out the circuits and wires. But they'd taken that away. Given him shot after shot and pill after pill. He can't escape. All he can do is remember. All of it. It won't fade, no matter how much time passes. How long has he been here? Why has no one come? Are they all dead too? It's all electric shocks and plasma burns and gunfire in his head. He can see them dying. He can see her... the voice is still speaking to him, calm as ever, but you can't make out the words anymore.

"Increase his dose."

Drake Holloway | OTA

[braveoff]

(( dreams in comments! hmu at cuddlebug for plotting! ))

FEAR (cw: violence, death, cannibalism)

[braveoff]

You come to awareness outside Hope's temple. It's dark and cold and you're hungry. The sensation is overwhelming, painful, all-consuming at first but then you'll come to realize it's not your hunger.

Drake is sitting on the steps of the temple, shaking, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. You can actually hear his stomach growling -- no, that's just him growling. A low unnatural sound that makes you intensely uncomfortable to hear. Something is wrong here. You shouldn't be around him right now, no one should. His hands fist in his hair, tight enough he might actually rip it out at the roots. He's suffering, struggling with something. But then his head snaps up.

His skin is pale, contrasting the black veins that have risen to the surface. His eyes are bloody red. He sniffs the air, and seems to focus in on something. Someone. Follow his gaze and you'll see there's a figure approaching, a figure in black and red armor. Drake rises to his feet, his movements stiff and uncoordinated. The soldier seems to notice him as well, and breaks into a jog, rushing over and calling out Drake's name.

Drake snarls. There's no recognition as he launches himself forward, moving much faster than should be possible for someone who could hardly stand up a moment ago.

They struggle. Despite the other man's power armor they somehow seem to be matched in strength, and he doesn't reach for his weapons. He seems to be trying to land a strike that'll stagger Drake, but despite multiple blows to the head he just keeps coming, single-minded in his attempts to get that helmet off. Brute strength doesn't seem to be doing it for either of them, until Drake gets the soldier backed into the wall of the temple... his fingers curl under the edge of the helmet, gripping tight, and then he starts to brutally slam the other man's head into the wall. Now the soldier does reach for his gun, but it's probably too late. He lifts it to Drake's temple but in the blink of an eye Drake rips his helmet off and grabs hold of thick dark hair, bashing him against the stone once more, dazing him. A smear of blood is left behind.

"Drake. Don't-- you can fight--"

But it doesn't stop, the sick thunks of head on stone turning wet. The soldier goes limp, drops the gun and crumples to the ground, eyes rolling back in his head. The hunger -- Drake's hunger -- surges in you again at the smell of the blood. Visitors who don't look away will see Drake kneel over the unconscious body, shredding at the scalp with his nails and prying into the cracked skull beneath. Exposing the brain. He doesn't hesitate, then, just sinks his fingers in and tears out a handful.

The hunger abates.

If you're still watching, you can see the moment that Drake comes back to himself. The veins fading, his eyes turning back to blue-green. Horror rising in them. He scrambles away from the body, looking down at his bloody hands, and...

"No... no, no... fuck, no."

What has he done?

Michael Munroe | OTA

[aroundthecoroner]

Tranquility (CW: gross dead body/dissection stuff)

[If you've never been in one before, the autopsy suite might not look like what you're expecting. There's no dramatic mood lighting, no corpses out on display, and it isn't just a single, well-placed table in the midst of a blue-tinted room. In other words, it's not quite like it is on tv.

It's actually very bright in here, though it's pretty expectedly chilly, and there is a distinct smell of decay. It's not the pungent, violent odor of a fresh, rotting body, but it's definitely enough to make its presence known; a deep, earthy scent like the closed door of a refrigerator that you know is full of very expired meat. In other words, it's still not exactly pleasant.

There's a row of shiny metal tables near the far wall, in front of an equally shiny row of sinks. All of them are unoccupied save one, which has a body laid out for autopsy. An autopsy which is already in progress, apparently.

In the real world, outside of Hadriel, Michael would never work alone. There's always the medical examiner to direct this sort of macabre show, and if there's one body, there's another, so the other tables would usually be in use. In the real world, he'd also have a lot more protection than just a pair of gloves. But this is a dream, and he's feeling very zen right now, so who even cares?

In Michael's mind, this isn't ghoulish. It's not about the fact that he's elbows-deep in blood and guts. It's never been about damaging a human body for him, about getting some sick thrill out of dismembering someone. Instead it's about control, about this thing goes here and that thing goes there, about taking something apart to find out how it works. Or rather, why it stopped working. It's the methodical categorization, the clinical perspective, the body as an object. He's both somewhere else and very present, attentive and far away. There's his usual facade of calm acceptance, and then there is this: a true kind of peace he hasn't displayed in the waking world since he arrived in Hadriel. To anyone who knows him, it might look a little unusual.

Of course, that's assuming you can get past the fact that he's currently removing and piling organs at the foot of the body. That might seem a little unusual, too. Observe or interrupt, it's up to you, but unless you speak up or approach, it seems unlikely that Michael will notice at first.]


Love (NO CWS CAN YOU BELIEVE)

[Michael adjusts and readjusts his glasses. They feel too big and heavy for his face. It's 1997, and he's nine, and he just got them. He thinks they make him look like a dork. On the plus side, his mom took the rest of the day off, and has decided they should spend it feeding deer at the zoo. This elevates things somewhat, so now it's halfway between "this sucks" and "best day ever".

He's standing in a fenced-in area filled with lots of small and adorable, very friendly deer. Nearby stands a woman with long black hair and a much more professional pair of glasses. Michael shares more features in common with his father, but she's still pretty clearly his mom.

It's early winter in Maine, so it's cold and there aren't many other people around. That's fine by Michael, because it means he and his mom are surrounded by a veritable swarm of hungry deer, munching eagerly at the food in their hands. They've done this before, so they've kind of cheated and brought cups to put the food in. Eventually, though, they're almost out of little pellets, and his mom dumps the last of hers into his and goes to get more from the feeders. This leaves Michael alone in a sea of excited deer and basically having the time of his child life.

The new glasses are almost entirely forgotten.

If he sees anyone approach that looks like they might want to join in, Michael will offer them the cup, struggling to keep it out of the mouths of the deer around him.]

You want some?

Tranquility

[toiletseat_girl]

[it just so happens that George has been to an autopsy room, many times. once for her own autopsy, once to collect the soul of a Reap George failed to take care of, and once to get Betty out of the corpse locker she'd been locked in.

the blood and guts don't phase her a bit. she's seen worse in her time of Reaping. she doesn't quite know what that says about her, but she's not sure if it's anything good. but she's rolling with it for now.

the silence eventually gets to her, though. nature abhors a vacuum and George abhors silence. so she approaches Michael]

What did this one die of?

kate galloway. ota.

[dedikated]

tranquility/ as i float through the frame of my body in my mind

( It's cold, the earliest sign of winter, where there's a dampness to the chill but no wind to make it bite. The air thick with burning and the distant din of people. You're on a rooftop on the outskirts of a town, tiles freezing and a blanket wrapped around you, keeping the worst of the chill from your bones, and to the left a small girl with a long curtain of brown hair who sits with her knees tucked under her chin, watching the sky intently.

Then there's a crack, a whistle, and the sky lights up with sparks of red and green. More and more noise as fireworks explode in the air, showering the world with colour - flashes of white and blue, more reds - and showing the mere handful of streets that stand between the rooftop (and somehow, you know this is where this girl lives, that on top of the roof is where she feels most comfortable) and the park. If your eyes cast down to the source of the fireworks, you'll notice a brightly burning bonfire, just visible in amongst trees and houses.

The girl says nothing, just keeps watching the display, at ease in all the noise and colour. )

love/ everyone knows that i'm dying to feel fine

Could we hang the mistletoe?

It's Kate's job, isn't it?

Have hands, don't you?

( Voices carry through the flat - an unfamiliar scottish lilt grumbling about finding mistletoe as another woman laughs under the clink of tableware, saying something about how it's fine, dear, they don't need mistletoe - with the wafting aroma of cooked meats and gravy. They make their way inside the guest bedroom, where the bed is covered in wrapped boxes and other miscellaneous shapes, labels jutting out, and Kate stood next to it, hands on hips and wearing a somewhat ridiculous outfit. If you chance a look into the hall and living room, you'll probably notice that the other people piled into the flat - two guys who are currently wrapping tinsel around a tall tree, edging their way cautiously any time they get too close to an impractically shaped vase that cost way too much money, and a redhead with a bright smile who lights candles with a simple touch of her finger - are also decked in similar clothes.

Heck, if you look down, you might find that you're also wearing some sort of onesie. )

Candles're done, Licia!

( Some Hadrielites may recognise that particular voice, however, as belonging to Faith - as bright as her smile as she bounds from the candles on the coffee table to the doorway of the living room, where Alicia - and you know her name is Alicia, just like you know that the onesies everyone is wearing was absolutely not this impeccably coiffed woman's idea - hangs the mistletoe. Faith drops a kiss on Alicia's cheek and scoots around her into the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Kate just exhales, looking at the pile of presents. )

C'mon. Haven't got telekinesis. Gonna have to help.

( She grabs a bundle of presents until she can barely see over the pile and waits for you to grab the rest. )

fear/ but the lens in my brain always tells me twisted lies

( Hadriel is easy to recognise, with its dilapidated buildings and odd architecture under a ceiling of earth rather than a freeing blue sky. It feels small, smaller than it is in reality. A pocket sized city with nowhere to run. From the rooftops, the limits of the city are even clearer; the northern stretch of the city entirely visible from the top of the sewing shop, spiralling out into nothing.

Nothing, that is, but buildings which collapse as the screech of a dragon echoes through the enclosure, energy reducing them to rubble which litters the streets. Beneath, the dots moving around the city seem unaffected, until you look closer and realise they're not human. They walk on two legs, but they glint in the artificial sun, metallic, eyes glowing and inhuman. Merely robots made to look that way.

Kate's hand wraps tight around the bow she has with her, teeth gritted and eyes drawn to the beast flying above the city. This is just what they need, the Null and a goddamn dragon. )

Ideas?

( She ignores the fact her heart hammers in her chest, or the way her breathing feels tight. There's work to be done. )

( note: replies to the tranquility dream will come from bratherine! )

Love

[toiletseat_girl]

[George has never been in this place (but something smells delicious), never met any of these people aside from Kate, and she's wearing a onesie. with cute Santas and reindeer on it. what the fuck?

but Kate is looking so expectantly at her and the voices sound like they're having fun, so she's gonna roll with it. she picks up the rest of the packages]

Okay, where d'you need these?

Dr. Temperance Brennan

[notimpervious]

(ooc: dreams to follow in comments)

• fear; closed (kate, drake, lup)

[notimpervious]

[The interior light in the car casts everything in a yellowish glow, and the darkness beyond the glass windows swallows the would-be brightness and any hope it might give you. It's stuffy and hot inside, and it's getting harder to breathe. If you roll open the nearest window, dirt starts to slide into the car.

You're buried underground and you have a limited amount of oxygen to breathe. Stay here long enough, and you'll die.

In the car with you are two other people. One is a bearded man with curly hair, unconscious in the backseat. If you detect the scent of blood in the air and decide to investigate, you'll find it comes from his legs, namely his shins, which are wrapped tight in fabric that anyone can tell isn't the sterile gauze it should be. The other is a woman who may or may not be familiar to you, though she looks noticeably younger. She's sitting in the driver seat and working on something behind the steering wheel, something with wires.]

Should work, [she murmurs at her project.

Has she noticed you're there? Maybe she has and she's just ignoring you. Either way, she seems focused on her task except when she glances now and then at the unconscious man in the back. It's clear she's worried about him, and it's clear she's determined to finish what she's working on.]

Elena Fisher | One open one closed

[storyseeker]

fear; warning for violence

[storyseeker]

[The setting is breathtaking. An elaborate temple, no less beautiful for how clearly ancient it is, overlooking a tree so large it could be the birthplace of the world. Nearby is an enormous blue stone, so shiny and polished it could be mistaken for a sapphire rather than hardened tree sap.

But it's the main with a grenade that has Elena's attention, and perhaps yours, standing frozen in place where Nate or Chloe were the day this really happened. You can't move or he might let go, kill himself and take everyone with him. Elena tries to get through to him, offer him aid, but it's no use.]

Sorry, love. This isn't a movie, and you're not the plucky girl that reforms the villain and saves the day. It's just not done like that.

[Elena doesn't often think of Harry Flynn with fear, but in a dream inspired by the god who is the emotion's namesake, she feels nothing else. The grenade goes off and she catches all the shrapnel in her left side, slicing through her flesh like knives through hot butter. She's on the ground, bleeding, and she already knows she might die.

You have a second or two to move, finally, or this all begins again—the standoff, the offer of help, the explosion. It will repeat itself endlessly until Elena wakes, unless someone helps her walk out of here.]

Abigail Hobbs | Open | Warnings for most dreams

[am_i_a_monster]

Tranquility, Open to All.

[am_i_a_monster]

Abigail enters a beautiful forest with a 'no hunting' sign and finds a harpsichord sitting in the middle of the trees. There's no reason it should be there and yet she doesn't question its presence. She sits down and begins to play a soothing, classical piece. The music attracts deer who walk through the forest calmly; they show no fear of humans. Occasionally, they approach Abigail and she stops playing, to pet them or feed them nuts and berries from her hand. When she realizes she's being watched, she stops playing and speaks.

"Deer care about each other, you know? They even care about the environment. They tread lightly through the underbrush because they don't want to hurt the plants. No one and nothing has to hurt here. It's peaceful." She tells you with a smile and return to playing the harpsichord.

Ravine. Tranquility: Babylon. (OTA)

[whip_poor_will]

For those who were born fortunate, this place could be paradise. After all, the hanging gardens were once considered a wonder of the world, before a time comes in which its existence can only be up for speculation. Water flows down man-made streams throughout the city, an elegant fountains. It doesn't take long to feel as though you are standing among a place outside of your own time -- perhaps even your own world.

The heat bearing down from the bright heavens can be either pleasant or stifling for some, but the people of this city fair just fine. Dressed in fringed garments of varied shapes and colors, the citizens bear a particular fashion of ancient times, wearing skirts secured by belts, sleeved dresses, shawls, and v-necks, many worn loosely on their skin. They pass by you, walking around as if you are an aspect of the scene -- and you very well may be. Your clothes and appearance may even be matched by theirs.

Colors adorning the city are just as vibrant, with particular images bearing the dragon-like mušḫuššu and the horned aurochs on glazed blue bricks.

While the language they speak is clearly not English, every so often the name 'Nabû-kudurri-uṣur' reaches your ears. No one stops to pay you any heed, however, as they continue their routine. It's clear between their clothes, bearing, and cleanliness that there is a separation of class, but as you are nearer to the gardens, the nobles and slaves become more noticeable.

Submerged to her chin in an oddly empty pool of crystalline blue water is a woman with long black hair, tied into braids and adorned with beads of gold. Green and life surrounds her, much like the rest of this stunning place, and she seems to be a peculiar presence. Probably because she actually notices you.

"I was wondering when you would show."

For once, amid the collection of a seemingly alien language, the words of a discernible tongue almost takes a while to register.

[toiletseat_girl]

[chalk this one up on the list of Places George Has Never Been Before. it's beautiful, there's no doubt about that and George's appearance matches the locals since her usual tshirt and jeans have been replaced with a belted skirt and a v-neck blouse.

she finds herself wandering the town, taking in all the sights she can. if she's going to be in a fantasy(?) world, she might as well enjoy it, right? she doesn't quite know what to do about the slaves, though. being about as American as you can get, slavery is abhorrent to her, but she knows there's not a damn thing she can do about it.

finally, she reaches the pool of water and the woman and finally, somebody notices her]

I, uh. Was sightseeing?

James Tucker

[nowherewolf]

[Prompts posted below!]

Fear | Open | CWs: violence, gore, cannibalism-ish???

[nowherewolf]

Fine, fuck you too.

[It's cold, it's night, and it's snowing, and that's about the fifteenth car that won't pick him up. Tucker is 13 and trying to get somewhere warmer; somewhere south, maybe, or California. California would be nice. At this rate, though, he's pretty sure he'll have to walk there. That, or steal a car. He's pretty sure he could figure out how to drive one.

Stuffing his ungloved hands into the pockets of his oversized jacket, he kicks at a snowdrift and heads in off the main road. He forgets the name of the town he's in right now, but he knows two highways run through it. Might as well try the other one. He takes a shortcut through some back yards and an alley. As he turns the corner around a big privacy fence, he stops dead in his tracks.

It takes a second to register exactly what he's looking at, exactly what set off his animal instincts and made him freeze. In the middle of the alleyway, surrounded by red-stained snow, a hulking figure hunches over a pile of Something. The figure is too thick in the chest and long in the arms to be a human or elf, too hairy to be dragonborn, much too big to be a halfling or a dwarf. A bushy tail swishes lazily behind it, and a pointed, doglike snout lowers into the mass of- meat? Garbage? There's a crunching noise, some wet tearing, and the muzzle pops up with a maw full of- of-

That's a person. Arms splayed out to the sides, face turned, wide-eyed, in Tucker's direction. It's a woman. What's left of her, anyway. Suddenly it all clicks into place. Werewolf. He's feared the sound of that word for years, but never for this reason. He wants to glance up, to check the moon, but he can't move. The air smells like iron and musk.

Suddenly, the monster looks up, rises a bit, sniffs at the wind. It tilts its head at him, then what almost passes for a smile splits its snout.]

Too young to join the hunt, little one? And you, what's your excuse? Come on, you're wolves, aren't you?

[The lycanthrope gestures toward the corpse in front of it. Tucker takes a step back.

He was always told they were ravenous beasts, incapable of thought or reason. This one just... spoke to him. And worse, it thinks he's a werewolf, too. What happens when it figures out he's not? And... who's the other person it was talking to? Is there someone else here?]

cecily trevelyan ; ota

[closerift]

( hit me up at my plotting comment or on plurk at kairaptor for any plotting! )

confusion ; and i feel nothing, not sane

[closerift]

" it's a hard day for dreaming again "


[ The sky is blue, the grass is... well, grassy, and there's a little bit of a breeze in the middle of this pleasantly-warm day. The field stretches on for a long ways, though it's broken up by trees, streams, and rocks. For the passing visitor to Cecily's dream, you might think that this is the influence of Tranquility. It'd make sense, considering how peaceful everything seems to be.

But you would be wrong.

Not much time passes before there's a low rumbling. Soon, little critters that look like a mix between a rabbit and some huge rodent scurry over the hill, squeaking and squealing and dodging the visitor to run on their way. Any longer-term residents of Hadriel will recognize these nugs, some of which live in the cave city in reality as a result of the rifts from the winter prior.

What you've likely never seen, though, is the thing that comes galloping over the hill after the nugs. It's enormous, horned, and, though it wears a saddle, it has no rider.

... Well, it has no rider on its back. The nugalope trots along, and the Inquisitor finally appears, panting, as if she's been running for some time. ]

Stop that-...! [ But she doesn't finish the sentence, breathing heavily, pointing at the mount. The nugalope begins munching on some grass, and so Cecily finally manages to catch up with it. She exclaims with relief and in victory, but as soon as she tries to get back into the saddle of the strange animal, it seems to increase in size just enough that it's nearly impossible for her to get up. As a result, she sort of topples over sideways, swearing as she plops back down into the grass.

The nugalope, unamused, walks off again. ]

Help me catch it! [ Cecily yells at the visitor, urging them along with semi-wild eyes. ]