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.

Comments

OTA | cw: abandonment, isolation, Fate

[backwordscompatible]

-Scenario A-



[She was four years old and surrounded by people. People she didn't know. In a place she didn't know. A...shopping mall? Either way, it was loud and it was crowded and not a single person was paying the slightest attention to her. Not even the children, safe in the loving hands of their parents, seemed to notice one of their own getting left behind.]

"Daddy?"

[He was supposed to take her out to lunch. He promised her taquitos if she was a good girl for the whole dress rehearsal. She hadn't moved a single inch from her spot backstage. Watching everything in quiet contentment. Daddy was the best magician, at any angle. Even she couldn't possibly get bored. Which meant lunch was hers, and she had insisted on her current favorite meal, even though she'd eaten it almost every night that week. He couldn't say no. He'd promised.]

[Except there were no taquitos. There was no Daddy. He was gone, and she had no idea why or where he went.]

"Somebody help. Please."

[The surrounding world continued to ignore her cries. It was like they couldn't even see her.]

[So the four year old did the only thing left she could; she curled into a ball on the floor, buried her head in her knees, and started to cry.]

---

-Scenario B-

"...hello?"

[It took a moment for realization to dawn on her. She had seen this place before. This empty void where the only thing she could see was herself. The rest was darkness. Not another soul to be--]

[...her soul.]

[Fate.]

"No!"

[The sudden cry echoed into the abyss. The only other sound. The only other existence.]

[She was back home again. Exactly where she had left off: trapped inside the Helmet. If Robin kept his promise...then, potentially, for all of eternity.]

(A)

[wintershepherd]

[ And abruptly there are arms picking her up off the ground, slender but strong to pull her into his lap, his presence seeming to push back the press of uncaring pedestrians around them. ]

Hey there pretty miss. No need for those tears, okay?

[backwordscompatible]

[She gave a small gasp when the arms grabbed for her, and for a split second, there was a hint of fear. Somebody she didn't know. A kidnapper? Daddy had warned her about those before. People who wanted to hurt him by hurting her....]

[But then a strong, cool presence surrounded her. Very cool. She shivered a little at how cold he actually was. And didn't mind. Because, for some reason, it made her feel better.]

M'not crying.

[As she said this, she hastily wiped at the water streaking down her cheeks. Peering up at the strange--yet not so strange--person finally paying attention to her, she blinked away the tears. Her voice was small. Tired.]

Are you one of Daddy's friends?

[wintershepherd]

Oh, my mistake then.

[ He wisely pretends not to notice her wiping away her tears because he knows that's important. Even in this dream (he's vaguely aware that's what it is, though the knowledge is faint and muddled) he remembers how proudly she spoke of her father and unconsciously tapped into that. ]

I'm a big fan of his. I was hoping to meet him... do you suppose we can find him together?

[backwordscompatible]

[Though still very wet, her eyes brightened considerably when he mentioned being a fan.]

[She knew what that meant; her Daddy has so many fans! A lot of them were really nice, too, like the theater managers who gave her chocolate. Or the pretty ladies who sometimes came to his door, asking if he would write his name on a picture they had. One of them actually asked for her to do the same! She was still working on writing her last name, but Daddy had taught her how to spell out Z-A-T-A-N-N-A all by herself!]

You'll help me?

[She sat a little straighter in his lap, peering up with wide eyes.]

A

[raisethemoon]

[There's a faint click of hoofsteps, before a faint breath on the top of her head. There's a tall pony leaning over to look at her, looking both concerned and faintly alarmed.]

Child? [Luna eases herself down onto her knees. This dreamer is not as young as she now seems - she's been dreamwalking long enough to develop a sense for that kind of thing - but it is all the same to her.] Come now, little one, do not cry.

[backwordscompatible]

[Oh.]

[Wow.]

[She looked up, and was so surprised to see a talking Pony, that she completely forgot she was supposed to be crying. Save for the occasional involuntary sniffle. Because talking Pony.]

You're Purple!

[For some reason, her "purple" color was even more fascinating than the fact that she was talking.]

[raisethemoon]

Yes, I am. [That was not an expected response, but she's smiling now.] My name is Luna. What is yours?

[backwordscompatible]

Zatanna.

[Her eyes are still wide, but she remembers herself enough to stand up. Daddy taught her that she should curtsy whenever meeting somebody of great importance. This seemed like the appropriate time.]

[The only problem was that she didn't have a skirt on, she she had to pretend to hold out the edge of one while she lightly bounced down and up again, using the words she had practiced.]

It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Luna Pony.

B

[andaway]

"Zatanna!"

Kal knew that voice, like he knew every one of his friend's and their protegées voices even in the most pitch black of darkness. So he followed it until he found her, followed it in the dark. Not being able to see anything wasn't exactly... familiar to him. Even closing his eyes at night was a hard job for him because somewhere, somehow, someone could be needing him at every second.

Zatanna wasn't the only one with fear of isolation, so he wasn't going to let her go through this alone. He stepped out of the darkness, offering a hand to her as he crouched to her eye-level.

"Zatanna, we need to leave. This isn't real, we have to go back."

[backwordscompatible]

Superman.

She looked up, staring out into the darkness. It was hard to know what direction the voice was coming from. Everything echoed around her. She turned right. Then left. Behind her.

Right in front of her, and she couldn't even see him.

"Where are you?"

[andaway]

Kal blinks, confused for a moment and then he chastises himself for not thinking about this possibility. Of course she couldn't see him, the whole point of this- this dream, this nightmare, this realm that's actually a piece of Zatanna's mind was to keep her alone, keep her isolated.

"I'm right here, I'm with you. And this isn't real, this isn't really happening. We'll keep you safe, alright? We'll get you out of here.

We wouldn't let you this happen to you."

[backwordscompatible]

Safety wasn't her immediate concern. She knew she was safe. Too safe. From ever being able to see, touch, or anything but distantly speak to another person ever again.

Even then, she still wasn't sure how Superman had been able to find her in there.

"Of course it's real." So unlike herself. Dejected. Like she had already resigned herself to Fate. "I did this. I put on the Helmet. It's either me...or dad."

And she would rather it be her.

(B)

[urbanmagic]

[She's never worn the Helmet of Fate, thank gods for that. The last time she remembered someone doing so, they turned into water and melted to their doom. That wasn't something she wanted to see, neither is knowing what happens when you actually put it on.

The empty void was different. She was getting used to carnage and bad things occurring, that for a moment she expected something to jump out of the shadows.

Zatanna's voice hadn't been what she expected.] Zatanna?!

[backwordscompatible]

[...it took a moment.]

[She wasn't quite as familiar with the voice as others that may have appeared to her in that moment. But when she did, her eyes widened.]

Traci?!

[What, was Fate collecting teenaged magic girls now?]

What are you doing in here?

[urbanmagic]

That really depends. Where is here exactly? [Dark endless void that will probably depress you for eternity? Check. It must be a limbo in a limbo. A limboception? She needs to focus.]

A!

[bridgetothemyscira]

[Oh no, crying little girl at three o' clock. For a moment, Diana looked at her surroundings in case there were little boys playing without her again like the last child this happened to. When she was satisfied to know it wasn't that, she approaches with a soft smile, crouching down until she can more or less see her at eye level before she spoke.]

What's wrong, little one?

[backwordscompatible]

[There was a gentle presence shadowing over her. A voice, warm and caring. Like a mommy. Zatanna didn't have a mommy, but her friends did. And their mommies sometimes sounded like that.]

[She looked up. Her lips parted in slight surprise.]

...you're pretty.

[Immediately followed by a sniffle and hiccup.]

[bridgetothemyscira]

[Well, that was sweet of her. Didn't quite answer her question, but it seemed to have distracted her from her tears for now, which was a start.]

Thank you, that was sweet of you. [Though there is a more pressing manner.] Could you tell me why you are crying, little one?

option a;

[cowled]

[Of all the dreams he's been in, this one is probably the most innocuous. It's... familiar, in a sense. He doesn't strictly recognize the venue, but the mind is one he's known before.

He closes his eyes. Thinks for a moment. Zatanna. His hands curl into fists, and when he opens them he's dressed as Batman. He knows, rationally, that this isn't his Zatanna. But it's one who may well grow up to commit the same sins, and there is a part of him, augmented here, that can't let go of that.

He walks through the mall, remaining as he is, and comes to the child where she's curled on the floor. That, more than anything gives him pause, and after a moment he crouches down beside her.]

Zatanna.

[His tone is as gentle and careful as any he ever uses as Batman.]

[backwordscompatible]

[There is a presence. Dark. Looming. She's frightened, but only for just as long as it takes for her to look up and see the cowled face staring down at her. A scream makes it all the way to the back of her throat before the remnants of recognition begin to set in. No. This person wasn't a stranger. ...well, yes, he was strange, but Daddy had told her about him. He was a friend. Somebody she was supposed to trust.]

You're...Batman...

[A finger nervously rises to her lips, hooking onto the bottom. She sniffles a little, but quickly wipes away the tears streaming down her cheeks.]

Do you know where Daddy is, Batman?

[cowled]

No.

[He holds out his hand to take hers. Whatever else has happened in his life, Bruce is a protector first. And seeing Zatanna like this-- this age--

He thinks of another little girl he failed. The one that lead to his addiction to the predecessor to Bane's venom. She drowned because he was too weak to help, and he has to give himself a moment to banish that memory to some dark corner of his mind.]

But I'll help you find him. We can do it together, all right? Giovanni will be worried about you.

a

[wingedwarrior]

[Honestly, Shayera isn't really the best with kids. Sure, she can interact with them well enough, but when she needs to comfort one? She usually leaves that stuff to Diana or Superman or someone more well-liked. But they weren't here right now, and this little girl needed help. So she'll put on the friendliest smile she can before crouching down and tapping Zatanna on her shoulder.] Hey, kid. What do you need help with?

[backwordscompatible]

[Perhaps it was because she could sense the hesitation within her subconscious. Hesitation, but well-intentioned. Regardless of the reason, Zatanna did not immediately look up at Shayera's voice. But nor did she pulled away. Instead, she continued to cry into her arms, managing to murmurer out something vaguely resembling an answer:]

D-da...ddy....

[wingedwarrior]

[Oh boy. A lost child. Maybe if she could find out at least a little of what her dad looked like, or maybe a name. Shayera tried to sound soothing and friendly (a little difficult with how rough she tends to be), and rubs her head a little.] You lost your dad, huh? I can help you find him.