hadriel_logs | Event Log: Dreamwalker

Entry tags:

Event Log: Dreamwalker

Who: Everyone!
What: The Dreamwalker event
Where: In your comfy bed and your sleepy head.
When: May 16th-26th
Warnings: Good dreams, weird dreams, bad dreams, straight-up nightmares. Please remember to tag for warnings in the header if things are going to be bad!

Have you been having trouble getting a good night's sleep? Tossing and turning, unable to rest those tired eyes? Or maybe you don't sleep at all, and never have. Not to worry! For a little while, you'll have no trouble at all falling asleep - in fact, as night falls, you'll find yourself overwhelmed with exhaustion whether you want to sleep or not. Lay down and rest your weary head, friends. Everyone could use a little extra sleep.

But what will your dreams bring? Something happy, images of a perfect day? Something hopeful, something you've wanted for a long time? Maybe you'll dream of anger, of the face of your worst enemy. Or maybe - just maybe - you'll have a horrific nightmare, and wake screaming, covered in cold sweat.

Not before others have time to see it, though. As you sleep, as you dream, the other residents of Hadriel, friends and enemies and people you've only met once, might find their way into your dreams. Or you might find your way into theirs - and then have to deal with someone's else's nightmares, or hopes, or anger. For the next ten nights, you'll find yourself either a host or a visitor, and no matter how you try you won't be able to stay awake once night falls.

Sweet dreams, Hadriel. Don't let the asshole fear gods bite.

► This log covers May 16th-26th.
► 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!
► You can't die in the dreams, but if you somehow manage to trip and fall and kill yourself getting out of bed, please report it on the death post.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Now this is more of a dangerous question. Like many in his situation, Firo keeps on the move out of necessity; people get mad if they see you too much and you can become a target. He doesn’t see why she’d try to hunt him down later when they’re already here, but he should keep his guard up.

Hurriedly, “Yeah, sure I do. What’s it to you?”

He takes some more quick bites out of his duck when the waiter comes by—he’s getting as much of this as he can if that guy is going to take it away. But, no, he brings more food instead, and Firo’s eyes glue right to it.

Judging by Firo's appearance and sticky fingers, Rey can hazard a guess to her own question. Anything she comes up with she keeps to herself, though.

"Nothing. Just wondering." She notices him eyeing the pastry. "You look like you've never had a dan tat before."

She gestures to it for Firo to take, if he wants. Take one, take both. Not like she cares. None of this is real, but she's not going to let him in on that.

“Well, it’s none of your business,” he responds seriously and snottily but without any special ill will or malice. No more than what’s normally in his voice, anyway. She could still be a threat, anyone could, but she’s also giving him food, which gets her some points. Maybe she’s just some dumb out-of-towner who has more money to spend than she really needs.

“A what?” He shoves a good chunk of it in his mouth and looks over what remains in his hand as he chews.

Perhaps it isn't and he's right. It really is none of her business. Though she wants to pry, to ask him more about his life on the streets, Rey can only imagine her curiosity would only be met with suspicion.

She sighs, deciding to flip the subject while she has his interest piqued.

"Dan tat," she repeats. "It's an egg tart. Pretty common in Asia."

He nods and, between bites of both food items, offers, "It's good. So's the duck." That's pretty darn close to thanks, for Firo.

"Are you expectin' to get paid back for this?" She has all that cash, but who says she's really willing to part with it? He supposes they'll find out soon enough. In spite of wanting to gobble up as much as he can, he's already getting full.

Even someone like Rey can get what he means by that. "You're welcome."

When he asks about payment, she just cants her head over her hand rested against her chin, blinking at him.

"No, not really. You just take care of yourself, all right?"

Honestly, she just wanted to spend the time with him, get to know him a little better, even if he doesn't need to know about it.

He means the next words to sound sarcastic, but they probably sound more baffled than anything, “Yeah. Sure.”

With some effort, he tears off part of what he can carry of the duck. Then he hops off his chair and walks a few steps until he’s nearly past her chair—it’s only then that he looks back uncertainly. What is he supposed to say?

“I’m gonna go now.” He nods. That probably works.

He hurries off out of the restaurant.

…Though it may just look as if the restaurant hurries away from him. As he runs along, the world changes: the cozy building becomes a wide, bustling street. Firo only pauses to peek at the posters outside of what appears to be a movie theater, staring at the smiling faces before continuing on.

That street gradually grows narrower and filthier, with tenements pressing against refuse and even the corpse of a horse that’s been left in the street. Firo skirts the crowds of women sitting around sewing (buttons onto cards—a meager moneymaking effort—if Rey’s quick enough to see) and the other kids playing (or perhaps just beating each other up).

He slips down a windy alleyway and finally slows. Finally, when he finds a spot hidden between a pile of rubble and a dumpster, he plops down, still clutching his prize.

Rey doesn't move from her seat when Firo gets up to leave. She doesn't know what to expect as he goes to head out that door, either. Perhaps this is where the dream will end, and she'll wake up on the floor in her bedroom as she had on so many other nights.

Except that isn't what happens.

All at once the restaurant rapidly vanishes. Though Rey doesn't remember getting up, she's standing now in the middle of a drearier looking street. Gone are the vibrancy of the Chinese place and the pleasant scents of whole foods. In its place are the city stench, and all the sights and sounds one can expect to accompany such misery.

She doesn't stop for long, when she finds Firo's form vanishing around the corner of an alley. Rey pauses to take in the scenery before propelling her feet onto the sidewalk an, turning down that chilly alleyway to find Firo behind a dumpster.

Slipping her hands into the pockets of her worker's pants, she cants her head towards the boy on the ground. She doesn't say anything, and just waits for him to notice her instead. Like a skittish stray, she doesn't want to spook him.

From Firo's point of view, it's as if she emerged from nowhere. He can't recall hearing her footsteps or else he would've tried to shake her or confront her. He springs to his feet.

"You followed me?" He hurls the accusation with anger but little surprise. Though it more probably sounds like he just squeaks it.

It is almost as though she just appeared out of thin air. There's no warning or anything announcing her presence. Firo's anger is understandable, as Rey would certainly be pretty mad at someone following her around, too.

"No." She shakes her head. "You brought me here."

Technically.

He immediately bristles. “No I didn’t.” But that argument isn’t important, because who would listen to that? He juts out his chin and glares down his nose at her. “What do you want?”

Rolling a shoulder, Rey leans back and peers in the direction leading out of the alleyway. She then returns her gaze back down to Firo.

"This doesn't seem like a very nice part of town. Is this where you live?"

It doesn't answer his question, but it also sort of does.

“N-no!” Not the most convincing denial, probably.

“So what if it’s not nice? Do you live somewhere better?” Well, considering that Hell’s Kitchen is the bottom of the barrel of the nation, it’s likely that she does. Firo doesn’t bother to think that deeply over his comebacks, though.

Not at all convincing, no.

"Actually, don't really live anywhere." She shrugs. "Had a place for a few years in Old Chicago, but that's... well, not any more. Before that, never had much of a home."

The life Rey had left behind in Chicago wasn't that long ago, and yet it's felt like lifetimes. She misses it, truly.

He tenses just a little less and looks at her almost smugly. Whatever game he thinks she's playing, he thinks he's caught her in it. "So you can't report me to the cops, 'cause they could get you for vagrancy too."

'Vagrancy' he says with the very careful and incorrect enunciation of a kid who's heard a word but doesn't quite know its meaning.

"Or you could try, but it'd be stupid."

Despite his enunciation, Rey can make out what he's trying to say.

"I'm not a vagrant, either. I just don't stay in one place for very long. Suppose you could say 'nomad' would be more accurate."

Same difference, right?

Nomad? He looks unimpressed. "That just sounds like you're makin' stuff up."

Focusing on her stuff, though, may keep her from asking again about what's going on with him. "So you're stayin' somewhere, but you're not gonna stay there a long time? Do you keep gettin' kicked out?"

Living anywhere is expensive, if his mother's money troubles taught him anything. Moving doesn't help, he thinks, so there must be some other reason.

She just shrugs.

"Not really. I just get sent to places, all around the world. Before I ever get the chance to settle anywhere, it's already time to pack up and leave."

The soldier life, but also the life of Rey in general. She was never allowed, neither could she allow herself, to get too comfortable in one location for very long. It may just start to become 'home' or something, and no one can have that.

Now, that sounds weird. What kind of job sends you all over? Nobody travels much at all where he lives--he's probably the best-traveled person he knows by virtue of having seen other neighborhoods. He has to to keep himself from being fingered for his pickpocketing.

Maybe the big ticket criminals in larger gangs in some of the nearby streets travel, but they have no one telling them what to do, Firo thinks.

She could be a spy. But why would she be bothering with this place? "Oh, yeah? Who sends you?"

Totally a spy.

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." The corner of her lip twitches, but not into a full smile that tells whether she's actually joking about this or not. "Someone in the military does."

Though telling Firo that this person doesn't actually serve the military (and thus, neither does Rey) and even his name wouldn't make a damn bit of difference to him.

Firo frowns even harder, no hint of amusement on his face. He doesn't like her joking about something like that, and he can't show anything that might be construed as weakness in response.

Military, though. That's a little confusing, considering that, despite her garb, he's pretty sure she's a lady.

"...You're a nurse?"

He supposes she might kind of look like the nurses he's heard about from Bellevue--reasonably well-off, stern, kind of harried and rough-looking. 'Bedside manner' isn't even a criteria for the medical professionals Firo's heard of, so it's no more hard to imagine this lady as one than it is to imagine anyone else as one.

Nurse? Now that's a new one. Rey just casts Firo a querying look. They don't really call them 'nurses' anymore where she's from, so hearing such an outdated phrase strikes her as odd.

"Not quite. More like a field agent. Can't really go into specifics, though. Top secret stuff and all. Like I said, may have to kill you."

She could very well be joshing him.

Field agent? Now she sounds even more like a spy, but Firo doesn't intend to press it. ...Not directly.

"Then why're you here? Don't you have better things to do, lady?"

"Honestly?"

Sort of, she does. Rey could be waking up at any second, wondering whether or not Firo will actually remember any of this. She could be speaking with the actual Firo, the one she knows, rather than this echo of him.

Rey shrugs. "Not really," she concedes.

Firo stares at her flatly. It’s not a very informative answer, and he’s getting impatient with that.

So he returns to that tired old phrase that slips out of his mouth so easily, “So what do you want? There's gotta be a reason you're still here!”

It always comes back to that. The fact that she’s hanging around him, even if she doesn’t have more pressing things to attend to, is concerning.

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