It's dark. Completely dark, and impossible to see, though you may have the sense of someone sitting next to you. The ground is hard, unyielding beneath knees. There is not much sound in the space but the quiet notes of a little girl's breath beside you, though a faint, high-up sound of dripping indicates a ceiling lofted high overhead. The water drip echoes softly, bouncing against the walls.
Above all, though, there is the sense of anticipation. No fear, but excitement, barely contained.
Something is coming. It will be here soon.
B
It's dark. But something is wrong, as it isn't night; plainly you can feel the sun on your skin. It's warm, even hot, and the sound of cicada-like creatures drone in the trees.
Then you realize you're sitting in mud.
This may or may not be a pleasant discovery, given the weather. The mud is cool, squishy between your toes, moist . . . but it is still mud, and sticky. An insect buzzes near your ear in an intense, demanding hum. Cold water laps at your toes -- a pond, perhaps.
It's then that the other confusing aspect of this dream kicks in. There's a startling sense and awareness of vibration. It permeates through your body, no matter which way you move, extending around you in all directions. In some places, these vibrations cross one another, like ripples crashing in a pool of water.
If you concentrate with it long enough and don't start to feel sick, a map will emerge, incredibly detailed, and you can see everything, from a bee landing on a flower to a trail of ants marching up the bark of a tree about 30 feet away.
The strongest vibration of all is quite close to you and emerges into the figure of a little girl plopped beside you on the bank, playing in the mud. If you're careful about it, you may discover she's using more than just her hands; minute motions of fingers and toes create little figures and designs.
She seems to be happy, singing softly to herself -- an absent little nonsense song with no particular tune or words.
C
Coolness. Evening, perhaps. The air feels slightly moist, smelling faintly of oncoming rain. You can see nothing, but there's a strange awareness of the vibrations of earth through your feet. In spite of seeing nothing, you are aware of everything -- the footsteps in the house nearby to the waddle of a turtle-duck and her babies on the bank of a nearby pond. You can't see features; you can only see outlines . . . but you're aware of so much more than if your eyes were open.
There's a cough next to you -- a wet one, as though there were something deep in the lungs. There's a girl beside you; she's tiny, dangling her feet off the edge of the porch. You can almost feel the heat coming off her body.
Voices of children arc from over the wall at the far side of the garden. Suddenly the girl on the porch is up, moving, sliding from her perch and wading through the long grass towards the sound.
((ooc: Let me know if you'd like another specific thread starter/something from when she's older.))
Toph - warning: no sight
It's dark. Completely dark, and impossible to see, though you may have the sense of someone sitting next to you. The ground is hard, unyielding beneath knees. There is not much sound in the space but the quiet notes of a little girl's breath beside you, though a faint, high-up sound of dripping indicates a ceiling lofted high overhead. The water drip echoes softly, bouncing against the walls.
Above all, though, there is the sense of anticipation. No fear, but excitement, barely contained.
Something is coming. It will be here soon.
B
It's dark. But something is wrong, as it isn't night; plainly you can feel the sun on your skin. It's warm, even hot, and the sound of cicada-like creatures drone in the trees.
Then you realize you're sitting in mud.
This may or may not be a pleasant discovery, given the weather. The mud is cool, squishy between your toes, moist . . . but it is still mud, and sticky. An insect buzzes near your ear in an intense, demanding hum. Cold water laps at your toes -- a pond, perhaps.
It's then that the other confusing aspect of this dream kicks in. There's a startling sense and awareness of vibration. It permeates through your body, no matter which way you move, extending around you in all directions. In some places, these vibrations cross one another, like ripples crashing in a pool of water.
If you concentrate with it long enough and don't start to feel sick, a map will emerge, incredibly detailed, and you can see everything, from a bee landing on a flower to a trail of ants marching up the bark of a tree about 30 feet away.
The strongest vibration of all is quite close to you and emerges into the figure of a little girl plopped beside you on the bank, playing in the mud. If you're careful about it, you may discover she's using more than just her hands; minute motions of fingers and toes create little figures and designs.
She seems to be happy, singing softly to herself -- an absent little nonsense song with no particular tune or words.
C
Coolness. Evening, perhaps. The air feels slightly moist, smelling faintly of oncoming rain. You can see nothing, but there's a strange awareness of the vibrations of earth through your feet. In spite of seeing nothing, you are aware of everything -- the footsteps in the house nearby to the waddle of a turtle-duck and her babies on the bank of a nearby pond. You can't see features; you can only see outlines . . . but you're aware of so much more than if your eyes were open.
There's a cough next to you -- a wet one, as though there were something deep in the lungs. There's a girl beside you; she's tiny, dangling her feet off the edge of the porch. You can almost feel the heat coming off her body.
Voices of children arc from over the wall at the far side of the garden. Suddenly the girl on the porch is up, moving, sliding from her perch and wading through the long grass towards the sound.
((ooc: Let me know if you'd like another specific thread starter/something from when she's older.))