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

[imaginate]

He lowers the hood. It's Kyle's face, his eyes are gold, the pupil almost faded completely into the iris. He attempts to take her hand in his: which has fingers elongated into claws.

'Come on, I'll show you.'

The figure on the chair moves as if to protest. The creature standing next to Clara hisses at it. 'Silence!'

[parallels]

Clara steps away and pulls her hand protectively to her chest. It's Kyle's face but she's not convinced this person his him. Her eyes dart to the figure in the chair.

"Who's that there?"

[imaginate]

'Don't pay attention to him. He's weak.'

It circles again, and tries to put an arm around her shoulder to guide her towards the window, which is becoming larger, and changing into a doorway. Outside, the sand is red, and the sky dark.

[parallels]

At first she's distracted by the sight outside. It reminds her of when she witnessed the birth of the earth. She doesn't want to go out there. It's big and vast and so easy to get lost in. She tries to twist around again.

"Who is he?"

[imaginate]

It snorts, derisively. 'He doesn't want to look at you anyway. Do you!'

The seated figure shakes its head.

[parallels]

"You can't just show me that thing and not explain it. That's not how it works." Clara crosses her arms and frowns up at the figure ahead of her. "How can I trust you if you won't tell me."

[imaginate]

It circles her again, and finally, it speaks.

'Then we'll just fix you too.'

Raising a hand, and a steady, yellow light pulses from a ring it's wearing. The seated figure lets out a strangled cry and lunges, tackling it, attempting to hold it down using the heavy chains.

[parallels]

Clara screams and steps back, pressing herself against the wall and shrinking away from the fight that's breaking out in front of her. She wants to help but she doesn't know who to help or even more, how to help. So she stands there, cowering like a child, and watching the scenario unfold in front of her.

[imaginate]

Kyle's always been a fighter. Even as a kid, size didn't matter to him, if they picked on him, he punched back. He came home with too many bruises and proclivity for violence that never left him no matter how sweet-tempered he appears on the surface. It's out in full force now, he uses the chains to viciously pound the creature, each blow silent, and merciless. Neither of them scream, and the final sound is only of a neck snapping.

He wins, of course, and the claws shrink, the figure fades to dust. He turns towards her, the hood has fallen from his face and his lip is split, bleeding. One of the manacles on his hands reads HONOUR. The other, DISCIPLINE. And the last one around his neck, making him bow his head, reads: DUTY. He looks every bit a terrified child, shellshocked and stumbling.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean. I'm so sorry —'

[parallels]

Clara drops into the corner and trembles like a leaf. She wants to shut out the violence in front of her, to herself against the wall, cover her ears and close her eyes. But she can't.

Her eyes are drawn to the scene, entranced by the violence and the brutality despite how much it terrifies her. At each blow she flinches and pushes herself back away. The scene is so silent that the only sound aside from the shuffle is the sound of her shallow, terrified breathing. Inhale, exhale, the sound seems to fill the entire room. That is until there's a wet snap and everything seems to go silent.

Kyle says something. She doesn't really pay attention or even care. Him being here is the only thing that matters. It seems to only take her two steps to cross the room to get over to him. Her hand hovers at his face as though to gently stroke it.

"Kyle."

[imaginate]

He cants his head, towards her hand.

'It's me.'

Except he sounds small, and scared, and extremely unsure of himself. The rage of pounding an enemy to dust is at the edges of his vision and he hasn't fully made the transition back. The walls fall away and they're standing in a clean metal room, which smells of antiseptic. Shadows flit past the glass at one end.

'I'm sorry. I didn't want to. But he's dead.'

[parallels]

With a small smile she brushes her fingers past his cheek and leans head close to him so that her forehead gently touches his shoulder. This is Kyle, her friend, the one who always looks after her. Now she needs to look after him as best she can. She owes it to him. When the room changes, she swallows at the cleanliness and the smell of antiseptic. It reminds her of hospitals and doctors and other things she dislikes. But no, she has to focus on Kyle.

"Don't apologize. You saved me."

[imaginate]

He laughs, softly, and it's a strangled sound, and he swallows the bile rising in his throat.

'I wasn't even going to fight him until you came.'

[parallels]

"I'm sorry."

Her brown eyes dart to the floor. She feels guilty and afraid and unsure of what to do or how to act around him.

[imaginate]

Don't be, he croaks, but he doesn't have much of a voice left and so he simply mouths it.

Then the shape moves, its claws tap-tapping on the floor. Kyle glances at it, his expression inscrutable, as the walls begin to close.

Shakily, 'We need to go.'

[parallels]

Clara quickly moves herself closer to him at the sound of the nail tapping against the floor. She still has no idea what to make of that thing. Of what to make of Kyle beyond being happy that he's not dead.

"Please."

[imaginate]

He moves towards the door, shuffling his feet, weighed down even more by the chains, as the tapping increases in volume and frequency. Tap tap tap, and a low, inhuman growl.

They make it to the door and he tries to slam it shut, the creature's hand blocks it, reaching for Clara.

[parallels]

Clara hovers next to him. She wants to help. No, she's desperate to help. But she has no idea what to do. Clumsily, she reaches out to hold onto his arm, as if to try to support the weight the chains force him to bear. Kyle's helped her so much and she won't accept not being able to-

Long claws brush her wrist as Kyle shuts the door and she screams and tries to hit the monstrous hand away from her.

[imaginate]

It reels from touching her as blue sparks fly from her fingers. Kyle retreats too - they're bright and he can't handle that right now, but the door slides shut, and locks.

And then he sinks to the floor, holds his head in his hands, and his breaths are harsh, and a few choked.

'I'm sorry.'

[parallels]

Clara stares wide-eyed at the sparks that fly from her fingertips. She's in such a state of surprise that even when the creature, and Kyle, stumble away she remains motionless. The door locks and that tiny, little sound is like a switch. Her heart slowly ceases to stop pounding and then nausea in her stomach subsides. The only sound is her and Kyle breathing.

Then he speaks and she walks over to him. She wants to say "it's okay". But it isn't, she knows it isn't. All of this is something that wanders in his mind and haunts him. To tell him it's okay would be a disservice. But she can at least promise him she's okay. Mimicking him, she drops to her knees (and he still manages to tower over her) and puts a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't be. I'm okay."

[imaginate]

The light around Clara is now a steady, pulsing indigo. Kyle barely gives it a second glance, the glow around his own body is warring between green and yellow, green winning only by sheer force of his stubbornness. The rest of the corridor is completely dark.

'I'm glad,' he replies, and tries not to flinch when she touches him. How can she, after what she's just seen? That was him - that creature, that mess of terror and rage - and she knows that.

[parallels]

Clara blinks at the light surrounding her. It's strange but somehow comforting. The soft light makes her think of gentleness and warmth. But when Kyle nearly flinches at her touch, she frowns. She doesn't really understand what happened back in that dark room. Only that there was a battle between Kyle and himself... a strange twisted version of himself. She wanted to ask but she had enough respect for him and his privacy that she kept it to herself.

And because she didn't want to think of it either. The only Kyle she wanted to know was the impossibly sweet, kind, and uniquely ridiculous one that was in front of her. She wasn't going to let that image be tainted. Besides, the Doctor had a dark and monstrous side that hid beneath the light surface and she still cared for him more than anyone. She looks into his face.

"Are you fine? How can I help?"

[imaginate]

Indigo is for compassion. He remembers that, from the one that showed up (will show up, he can't keep it straight in his head, sometimes he thinks Blackest Night has already come) at Oa. She's not hope, she's something else, something more and he can't accept that plainly. He's scared to. Afraid of what it means, when someone gives him unconditional love and care despite everything they've seen about him. Despite the fact that he does the exact same thing for other people. Well, he was no stranger to hypocrisy.

He holds up his arms, attempts a bright smile. Just for her. 'Not really, no.' But there's little that can be done about that. He'd never be "fine" in the way people wanted. He was damaged.

'Honestly, I could use some help getting these off.'

[parallels]

"No, definitely not. But at least... fine enough that you're not going to topple over onto your face, yeah? Because I don't think I can carry you."

She tries to give him the best smile that she can when he smiles. If nothing else he deserves that. He'd smile for her if she was lost, afraid, and exposed to everyone. They're both people who smile on the surface and are wracked with pain on the inside and sometimes forcing a smile the hardest thing to do. The effort it takes to put out a smile that bright keeps her from trying to even ask about what happened.

Clara kneels down next to him and runs her fingers along the cold metal of the cuff. "How do I get it of?"

[imaginate]

'I could fall over on my face, give you a chance to be all heroic,' Kyle jokes, except the ghost of a grimace passes over his face as she touches the cuffs. 'I don't know.'

He's never tried removing them, and if he's honest with himself, he's not sure he ever can, and he feels emptier for it.

'You could try using your ring.' He gestures to a ring that's appeared on her right hand, middle finger. 'Works... like mine. Just imagine a saw cutting through the metal, I guess.'