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

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?

[requiemshark]

Hunger isn't new. It's an old enemy or a bitter friend, depending on the day, but Ephemera knows it well. From training (should have made that shot if you wanted dinner, you stupid fuck) to war to missions and then, finally, to prison, he's learned to adapt. To pace himself, know what his body can take and when it will give out under the strain. He knows hunger.

This is different. This is an ocean wave on the rise, threatening to crush him underneath.

The shock of it keeps him from reacting to the violence. From seeing himself approach Drake, from watching as Drake gets his helmet off, dashes someone's skull against hard stone and then--

Ephemera removes his helmet. Watches that thing with his face, his scars, die. Watches it go limp as Drake cracks the skull open. Goes for the soft parts beneath.

Breathe.

"I'm going to be sick," he murmurs.

Then he is.

[braveoff]

The voice coming from behind him registers, but Drake can't tear his eyes away from the blood slowly spreading out towards him. He can't breathe. This was his worst fear, that somehow he'd go hungry here, turn and start killing. And now it had happened, and it would surely happen again. They'd have to lock him up, let him starve, go Romero. He has to turn himself in. Maybe whoever's here will help?

But when he glances over his shoulder he sees...

"What--?" He looks helplessly between the body lying on one side of him and his friend standing (well, doubled over) on the other, trying to make sense of this. "...Ephemera?"

[requiemshark]

Breathe, soldier. Don't flinch from the blood, from whatever breaks before your eyes. He's seen what happens when someone steps in front of a tank, he's see cities razed to the ground, this is nothing. It's one corpse with its brains bashed out, it's nothing, it's nothing--

Breathe.

Ephemera braces his hands on his knees, trying to center himself. He can taste the blood when he inhales.

"What the fuck," he mutters. This can't be happening. It doesn't make any sense. "What the fuck, Drake."

[braveoff]

Don't ask him, he has no fucking idea what's going on. How are there two of you? It must be a Hadriel thing, some kind of trick. Drake's more relieved than he can say that Ephemera's apparently okay, but his hands and face are still bloody, he definitely just killed... something. Which means he's a problem to be dealt with.

There must be chains in Hadriel.

"Don't look. I-- I have to get to HQ." Henry will know how to contain him. He picks himself up off the ground, staggers away from the body. "Just... don't look."

[requiemshark]

Focus, soldier. Stand up straight and do your job.

Ephemera pushes himself up. Breathes in, holds it, then exhales.

It's only blood.

He focuses on Drake instead, trying to read him. This--this is what it means, to lose control as a zombie. This is what it looks like. This is what almost happened in the other dream.

It's easier when he's not looking at that thing with his face, his armor. When he's focused on Drake.

Ephemera doesn't reach for him. But he doesn't flinch away, either.

"All right," he says, and puts his helmet back on. The distance helps, too. Filters out some of the smell. "....I need to knock you out, Drake?"

[braveoff]

This is it. Worst case scenario, and Drake can't look straight at Ephemera when he answers. At first it's just that he doesn't want to see the disgust in his friend's eyes, but once the helmet's on... he doesn't want the misery to be seen in his.

"...no. I'm not... hungry anymore."

[requiemshark]

Breathe. Focus on the objective. Ephemera nods just once. He has a job now. That helps. He can focus on that. "Okay. That's--okay. Drake? C'mere. We need to get out of here."

Away from the gore.

[restinglichface]

Lup is getting real tired of this dream bullshit.

Another dream, another brief period of time in her body, a tease of what she's been missing. But her gaze singles out Drake quick enough, the woman moving immediately towards him, knowing by now that the action of the dream is always going to be centered around the person dreaming. Best to just stick with him and see what's about to play out. Seeing the dreams through seems to be the only way to get out of this place.

But then Drake lifts his head and Lup's stomach flips at just how wrong he looks, her quick pace coming to an immediate halt.

Then there's Ephemera and then Drake is attacking the man, and it all happens so fast that Lup can't do anything but just watch, her mouth slightly open in shock but not a single word pushed out from between her lips. It's over in an instant. Drake overpowers the man he's in love with and dashes his head against stone. And then he--

This is an entirely different Hunger than the one Lup is used to, but it ends up making her feel just as sick.

When Drake comes to, Lup is not very far away from him, trembling and looking pale, not at all filled with her usual bravado. There's just something about seeing one of your dearest friends eat the other that really saps the life out of you.

[braveoff]

Drake doesn't glance up at her. It's unclear whether he's even aware of her presence, as he looks from his hands to the body he's left behind. Slowly, he shifts, crawls back to it. Blood pooling from the head seeps into the knees of his jeans as he forces himself to look. Sets a hand down on the man's armored chestplate and looks for all the world like he's about to break into a million pieces.

"I'm so sorry. You'll be fine," he whispers urgently to the corpse. "Hope will bring you back, you'll be fine."

But they won't be. He certainly never will be. There's only one option, now that he's turned and hurt someone. They have to lock him up. Let him go hungry, let him fade away beneath it. He's not going to hurt anyone else. Surely Henry will be able to contain him somewhere. He just has to move this body inside, has to show it some respect, then he'll turn himself in.

Drake sniffs, blinking back tears, and starts stripping off the man's armor -- he's too heavy to move with it on, without help.

[restinglichface]

Because this whole situation hasn't been bad enough for Drake, the man starts to work at removing Ephemera's armor and Lup immediately assumes the absolute worst.

The elf is shaken out of her stupor at the sight of Drake hovering over their friend's bloody body, her shock giving way to absolute anger, which blossoms out through her tiny frame, her hands curling into two tight, shaking fists.

"Hey!" In complete opposition to her brother's 'Taako's good out here' way of living, when danger strikes, Lup is usually the first to barrel on forward right into it, with very little regard for her personal safety. This is one of those situations that might benefit from a little forethought--she just saw the man overpower a fucking soldier in full on armor, and even with magic, Lup's still a physically slight woman with skinny arms--but she flies forward in an instant, a hand coming down on Drake's shoulder, attempting to use what little strength she has to rip him away from Ephemera's body. "Get off of him, you sicko!"

[braveoff]

Well now he's certainly aware of her presence. Drake doesn't fall when Lup pulls at him but he does turn, looking up at her with tears streaming down his face. He sinks his weight down onto his heels and become unmovable unless she casts a spell of some sort. Because he has to do this.

"Lup..." It comes out weak and broken and he tries again to not much improvement. "Lup, just let me get him off the street. Then you can take me in."

[restinglichface]

Whatever had taken over Drake to get him to murder his best friend, it only takes a quick look at face to see it's not exactly the same man who had been standing here moments before. He's speaking logically, crying and clearly so very broken from what he's done, acknowledging who Lup is instead of just outright attacking her.

So what the fuck had that even been?

The woman's fist clenches at her side, her teeth gritting together before her gaze drops down to where Ephemera is laying. Still and surrounded in a pool of his own blood. Unchanged. Still dead. Lup's eyes flick back up to meet Drake's, anger still burning there. "Fine." Whatever he did, she can't deny him the chance to move Ephemera' to somewhere less shitty. The man deserved that much. "Just, we'll move him but then you're going to explain this shit to me. And if you don't explain well enough, I'll fucking kill you too."

Sorry, Drake. Prisons don't necessarily work well from where Lup is from. It's kill or be killed, and Drake may just be getting both sides of that coin tonight.

[braveoff]

Drake nods, sniffing but not bothering to wipe his face dry -- his hands are too bloody anyway. He just turns back to Ephemera and finishes dealing with the armor, gets enough of it off and clear so that he can gather his friend into his arms. They're a similar size and weight and it's an effort to lift him but Drake does it without complaint, ignores the blood seeping into his shirt as well. He's totally covered in it now but doesn't really care. What he's done will never wash off anyway.

Lup will need to get the door for him, but Drake carries the body into Hope's temple and sets him down inside, touches his face one last time before turning away. He's stopped crying, but only because he's shutting down.

"He'll be pissed if he gets back and his armor is missing," Drake says numbly, heading back out to gather it up. Bring it back to Ephemera's apartment. He can explain to Lup on the way, maybe? Hopefully well enough she won't kill him because that won't solve anything. Won't protect anyone. He takes a shaking breath and just spits it out. "I'm a zombie. You want to kill me, aim for the head."

[restinglichface]

She can't bring herself to touch Ephemera's body when he's laid down to rest, but the elf does bow her head and suck in a deep, calming breath, trying to soothe the emotions that threaten to overwhelm her. She whispers something, in a language much more flowery and soft than Common, before turning to follow Drake back outside.

Lup may not be much help in moving the body, but she can help with the armor at least, try to do something nice for the man she'd come to care so much for during her few months here in Hadriel. He'll come back. She hasn't seen anyone die in Hadriel yet, so it's hard to believe it's really that simple here, but that's what everyone keeps telling her. The dead always come back, so he will too. She has to believe it.

"A zombie? That doesn't make any sense." The only undead Lup's familiar with are the undead associated with necromancy, though the concept of what a zombie is isn't completely lost on her. This, though, doesn't make sense. The undead usually rose under the command of a necromancer, did their service, and then dropped down dead again. What Drake did was change from human to something else and then back to human again. That can't be how it works. It's not much, but at least Lup's tone sounds a little more sorrowful than full of anger. Her small frame is still trembling, hands still clenched into shaking fists. "What does that even mean?"

[has_been_faking]

Ed has experience with zombies. His former student studied necromancy behind his back and made sure Ed came face to face with the creatures. This, though? This wasn't quite the same thing. He'd never ever heard of someone transforming into something like one, then back again. It was a one-way thing. It was supposed to be, anyway.

Feeling it for himself has him stunned. He never wants to feel something like that ever again. Despite the fact that Drake is probably just as much of a danger to him at this moment, he doesn't move. His legs feel like lead right now anyway.

"Are...you...?"

What was he going to say? Are you okay? Obviously not. That's a dumb thing to ask.

"What just happened?"

[braveoff]

"I killed him." It comes out broken, halting. Drake just stares at the body, shaking, not knowing what to do now. What comes next? He has to take care of the body, can't just leave it there in the street while he does to handle himself, which is a whole separate issue. He's going to have to be locked up. Chained up somewhere and left to go hungry if Hope's brains aren't working anymore, if this is his new reality. There's no morgue here, no funeral homes. No hope.

Slowly, he moves back to the body. Presses a bloody hand to the man's chest and ignores the blood seeping into his jeans as he kneels there. Come on, man. Pull it together. Tears run down his face as he unfastens the armor with shaking hands. He can't move his friend in armor, he's too heavy.

[has_been_faking]

"Yeah, that you did." Ed's voice is quiet. "Meant more like, what happened with you?"

He whips his head around, to see if there any onlookers, any authorities who might be coming in on the scene. He really hopes not the latter. He takes a few tentative steps towards Drake, noticing him undoing the dead man's armor.

"What are you planning to do with him?"

[braveoff]

Oh, right. With him.

"I'm a zombie." No reason to try and hide it now. "Don't worry, I'm turning myself in." He sets one gauntlet aside and reaches for the other.

"Just to bring him into the temple. Maybe he'll revive faster, I just... can't leave him out here."

[has_been_faking]

Turn himself in? "To who? And-- revive? After that?" He waves a hand at Drake's unfortunate victim.

Ed's not quite sure what to do with himself. Should he help? Should he get the authorities? Ed hates the idea of getting the cops involved in anything, but this was pretty brutal. Other people could be in danger from this guy. Maybe once he realizes this is a dream, he can calm down.

"Should I-- Do you need me to help?"

[hasadoctorsnote]

Nico has his black sword held out in front of him protectively, but he doesn't look sickened or grossed out by what he's just seen. Just wary and alert, unsure if Drake is going to come at him next. "... Are you in control now?" he asks cautiously.

[braveoff]

Fuck. Someone's here. Someone saw.

Drake's head snaps up, tears in his eyes and blood on his face. The kid has a sword pointed at him but isn't making any move to attack, not yet. That's something... maybe he'd be willing to escort Drake back to guard HQ so he can be contained. The question, though. Is he in control now?

He nods, slowly. He's himself again, and sort of wishes he weren't. Because now he has to face what he's done.

The tears fall as he moves back beside the body, presses a bloody hand to its chest. He'll come back, Hope will resurrect him like all the others, but if he ever speaks to Drake again will be a miracle. Not that it matters -- he's not going to be around. He'll be a Romero chained up somewhere for the protection of the cave.

"I have to move him. Then I'll turn myself in."

[hasadoctorsnote]

Given the way Drake is reacting, Nico decides to lower his sword and move closer. It's clear that he's regretting what he just did, and Nico wonders if he'd had any sort of control until he'd... well, eaten. "I'll help you move him. ... Would you have stopped if you'd been able to stop yourself?"

LOVE

[braveoff]

Every surface in the apartment you're in is covered in knick knacks and photographs. It's tacky but charming somehow, with how devoted whoever the owner of the house obviously is towards the boy that you can see growing up on the walls -- baby pictures and karate tournaments and awkward prom photos. There are voices coming from the kitchen, two women and a man, who sounds long-suffering.

"Hey, you know what? I took a couple cosmetology classes at the community college. I could give you a little makeover."

"She's beautiful, Ma."

"Yeah. So's the sun, but you can't stare directly at it. Whaddaya say?"

"Why not?"

"Good! Listen, let me go get my makeup caboodle, and I'll be back in a jiffy."

"If I were you, I'd make a run for it."

Inside, two women are seated at the table, which is now covered in makeup. The older woman is putting way too much blush on the younger one. The brush slips and powder goes up her nose, and she sneezes adorably.

"Oh, sorry, honey. Drake, can you get her a tissue?"

"Ma, I'm up to my elbows here. Give me a minute." Indeed, Drake is half under the kitchen sink, sleeves rolled up and wrench in hand.

The older woman huffs, waves a hand for him to nevermind, and reaches for the lipstick instead. She puts on a ridiculous amount of rather garish makeup, and as soon as Drake is done fixing the sink hustles them into the living room to give him an ill fitting hand-knit sweater and take a photo of the two of them. Tries to get them to pose with the cat. Liv endures, and when his mother retreats Drake turns to her with an apologetic smile.

"Where to for dinner?"

"Somewhere dark."

Back in the car as Drake yanks off the terrible sweater, Liv pulls down the sun shield and looks in the mirror, then bursts out laughing. "Oh god." She rummages in her purse, pulling out a package of face wipes.

"Here, let me." Drake takes the pack from her, pulls one out and reaches to cradle her head with one hand, wiping her cheek with the other. The makeup comes off in a thick streak, and he smiles. "I can't believe you didn't bolt."

"She's not so bad."

It takes a couple minutes and a couple face wipes, but he manages to clean her up. Tucks her hair behind her ear and lets his hand drop. "You really are beautiful, you know."

She leans forward and kisses him and they linger a moment longer, before Drake starts the car.