Event | Landfall | Dreaming

[ironwood]

Characters: Any and every!
Date: August 10th - 31, 2013
Location: The realm of Dreaming as accessed via Sinbrilee
Situation: Dreaming is but one of the three realms and here characters are subject to their fanciful thoughts.
Warnings/Rating: Please place content warnings in subject headers!

Sinbrilee | Dreaming | Death

Life. Dreaming. Death. Three realms overlaid upon one another and yet each distinctly their own. They dwell in Life and do so live upon the back of the great turtle as those of Sinbrilee did upon the shell of his sister. However, there stand numerous arches of marble throughout the ruined city that are inlaid with runes beyond understanding. Those that live and breathe which step through those whose runes glow with faint, iridescent light tread instead into the realm of Dreaming.

Here, there exists no single defining characteristic beyond the visitor's imagination. The landscape sculpts to their individual thoughts, the events to their dreams. From a drab gray nothing to the most brilliant of displays, the senses perceive all that they wish to perceive for all that nothing here truly exists. This far from Tu Vishan, the ability to shape their surroundings is all they have, for Sinbrilee's Dreaming does not have the energy to sustain powers, only the bodies of those that dwell here.

Should two parties near, then the Mesh begins. Dreams, you see, not only can be shared, but they strive to be. These visions sculpted into reality reach out for one another and blend. They begin an exchange akin to a linking of the minds, within which one visitor can learn the other's deepest thoughts. Their limitation is but compatibility, for two minds that cannot flow upon the same current cannot hold the Mesh.

Happiness or loss, the landscape and events play out memories and fancies with a most convincing air. The mood rises and falls with the tide of the visitor's mind, detached as they are from the soothing influence of a great turtle's mind. Nothing here, however, is real; 'constructs' simply fade if taken through the archways and even the greatest scientific minds or tools will reveal nothing of its source. This is an ancient magic of an ancient realm, long practised in concealing itself from any prying.

Note: Due to the fluid and highly individual nature of Dreaming, no official subheaders will be provided in the comments of this post. Feel free to post and thread however you like, so long as the rules of Dreaming are adhered to.

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[wingedwarrior]

Wandering through the mazes of doors, watching them all open at a touch, she finally comes to one that doesn't open right away. She paces around it, knowing full well that this is probably a buried memory that he'd rather not have come to light, but her curiosity gets the better of her. Shayera paces around the door a few times before it finally opens, and she enters, cautiously of course.

The taste of ash and the screams are one of the things Shayera will never forget. The sounds of war, the stench of corpses. This is a feeling she can relate to, along with the horrors of it. But one thing she wasn't expecting was the figure. His appearance matched Kyle's, as did his voice. But it wasn't her Kyle, there wasn't his usual... personality there. It seemed more like a cold, hollow shell, void of life.

"... Kyle?" It's all she can manage to say besides a barrage of questions. What is this, what's going on here, what have you seen. Talk to me. The words are thought, but not said.

[imaginate]

The door swings shut behind her almost instantly, and a bright yellow light immediately blinds her. The figure circles.

'I'm trying to fix it.'

The light fades, and the landscape has changed. Fallen buildings. Cracked domes, broken spires. Blood soaks the streets, there are no bodies. As one comes to a courtyard there are large shards of something massive that’s been smashed on the ground. A pile of rings in the centre, which fade into dust when touched. It hurts to breathe, almost as though there's no (hope) air left.

'Look at what he's done, the murderer. Fortunately, he has nowhere to run.'

The figure is behind her, and it wanders over to the courtyard, ghosting a clawed hand over one of the shards.

[wingedwarrior]

Yellow. It's the same light as Sinestro, isn't it? Fear. The questions and wonders she has about her little brother just keep piling up, and if she doesn't ask some of them soon... well, she just has to.

"Fix what?"

Glancing around the scene before her, Shayera keeps her composure. Sure, it's hard to breathe, but she doesn't let that stop her. Nothing stops her here, not for Kyle. Gasping for air, she manages to make a few sentences to speak.

"Yes, he does. He can run to me. Am I supposed to hate him because of this? Because I won't." She points to herself for emphasis, make her point stronger. He's a murderer, big deal. So is she. You don't join the army and never kill, it's part of the package. She follows the figure, holding her fists back so she doesn't punch whoever this fucker is.

[imaginate]

'Everything.'

Yellow light sparks from its fingers, as it touches the buildings, they crack and disintegrate further.

'All that power. What does he do with it? He stands and watches.'

It turns, to face her, lowers the hood. It's Kyle, but his body language is completely wrong: twisted, angry, charged with hatred that makes his smile look cruel, his eyes cold.

'Not even you can protect him from me!'

[wingedwarrior]

Stands and watches. That strikes a nerve with her, reminds her of the invasion. It's still all too fresh in her mind from her own memories being relived not too long ago.

"Sometimes it's all you can do. It might not be the right decision, but it's the only one you've got." She immediately goes for her mace, taking it off from its place at her hip, pointing it threateningly at the man before her.

"I can, and I will." He's done too much for her not to help him with this in return. He's the only person here who really gives a shit about her, and she will not let fear win him over.

[imaginate]

And the creature snorts, in complete derision.

'Please. This is my mind as much as it is his. You have no chance against me.'

Ghosting a hand over the last few intact buildings, it begins to walk, expecting her to follow.

[wingedwarrior]

Shayera's not scared, but she is being cautious as she follows him, holding her mace up protectively in case he tries anything. She smirks at him, as if proving he's no threat to her.

"I beat him and I can beat you." She's defiant against him, to help strengthen herself for what's to come.

[imaginate]

'He wasn't even trying to hurt you. That boy always holds back.'

It smirks, and keeps walking. 'All of you look at him and forget just how much power he has, and what he can do with it. If he wanted.'

It slams a fist into a ruin, and all of it crumbles to ash.

[wingedwarrior]

"There is nothing wrong with holding back." She knows just how much power he wields, and it's because he holds back that the universe is still in one piece. Shayera has seen firsthand the kind of power in those rings. And he's still the last person she'd ever expect to misuse it.

"I never forget how much power someone has." It might be her being overly cautious, but with her being how she is, keeping track of how strong someone is comes naturally to her.

"He wouldn't just throw that power around as he pleased. There's a difference between cutting loose, and going crazy." He's better than that.

"And there's plenty of people here who love him to make sure he won't do that. Myself included."

[imaginate]

'Such faith.' Its lip curls in a derisive sneer. 'Can you imagine, what would happen, if he actually applied himself? An end to war, conflict. Pain. Suffering. All of it could be fixed.'

There was a fine line between helping people and fixing things. Every Green Lantern had to walk it, and carefully. This... thing in front of her. It was what happened when one forgot where the line was, and went down, to the other side. Into shadows.

They reach an open field. The figure raises its hand, and a large mirror appears. Another battlefield. A ship. A barren wasteland. Bodies, falling from the sky in sealed coffins.

'What of that, hm? He could have stopped that.'

[wingedwarrior]

All of it could be fixed. The only thing Shayera can answer that with is a sarcastic, bitter laugh. Fix everything. Like it's always been so easy, to just snap your fingers and all the problems just go away.

"It's never that simple. Never that easy. I could stopped the same thing from happening where I'm form. Guess what? I didn't. Nothing is ever that straightforward." Shayera rage is bubbling way past her limit, and she's had just about all she can take from him. She raises her mace, swinging it as hard as she can directly against his face, harder than she ever hit Hro, Brainiac, Shadow Thief, anyone. This thing keeps talking like he knows everything, but all Shayera can see is someone with half the facts and a mouth as big as Luthor's.

"Just because I hit you doesn't mean you'll leave, that you'll go away forever." Nothing is ever that cut and dry.

[imaginate]

The strike surprises it enough that it doesn't hit back, just freezes, and crumbles. Momentarily, it fixes her with a single eye - full of sadness - before that too, falls away. Ash and the smell of paint drift upwards, and the cloak collapses to the floor.

For several minutes, nothing happens.

And then a shout from behind her. 'Shayera!'

[wingedwarrior]

The gaze she saw in that eye is ultimately what makes her stare at the ashes rather than looking for a way out of Kyle's mind. Was it really that easy to just... get rid of it? She turns away from the ashes after a few minutes, walking around in place for most of it. Shayera is about to walk off until she hears Kyle's voice. Or at least, what she hopes is.

"Please tell me it's the real you and not some twisted copy." That is first and foremost on her mind.

[imaginate]

'It's me.' He sounds tired. 'That thing's not gone, you just.. shocked it, I think.'

He sighs deeply, puts both hands in his pockets, and smiles weakly at her, attempting to lift some of the dark mood. 'I'm surprised you didn't punch it sooner, all the shit it was saying.'

[wingedwarrior]

"I didn't think it would be that easy to get rid of." Sure, she might've hoped it, but nothing is that easy to ever just erase from your mind. Especially not a thing like that.

Though she can understand him attempted cheeriness, Shayera is having none of that. She moves closer to look him straight in the eye. "Talk to me, Kyle. What was that?"

[imaginate]

He hunches his shoulders and looks away, back to the ruins. 'I fused with a cosmic being, once,' he starts, barely audible. 'It. I went power mad. Couldn't deal with the strain. Not that much, all at once. That - it's from then. It kept getting worse.'

The second time, he'd been able to adjust properly, but the nagging thought had always been there. What was the line? When should he cross it? It was always a work-in-progress.

[wingedwarrior]

From the speech alone, Shayera has a vague idea of how hard it was, what he must have gone through. All the burdens he has to bear alone. She pulls his head into her shoulder for a hug, for any small bit of comfort that could help.

"If you ever need me to punch it again, just call." She knows it probably won't do any good, but hell, she doesn't know what else to do that would help erase it. "Just call if you ever need help." That goes for more than just this.

[imaginate]

He goes rigid, and then he returns the hug. Any bit of comfort he can get, he holds on to. It wasn't always there - and... she could leave. No matter how close he got to people, the nagging fear was always there.

They don't need you. No one does.

Because his family, the people he trusted most, had come only to fetch Ion, and not him, but who asked a weapon how they felt about their circumstances? He never spoke up about it. Just... accepted it, and moved on.

'Things like that need a lot more than just punching out.' They need to be worked through, and I don't know how.

[wingedwarrior]

She held him a little closer, a little tighter, giving him whatever he needed. She wasn't good at comfort, but watching the others do it for all these years? Shayera gathered a basic idea of what to do.

"Then I'll be here to help with whatever else you need, punching or not. Got it?" And she meant that. People helped her through her problems, and they barely knew her. Hell, they hated her and she's doing better now than before.