tushanshu_logs | Event | Landfall

Event | Landfall | Dreaming

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It is. Better than most. [Better than the nightmares, but that pretty much goes without saying.] I'd say it's doing its job, then. It's... safe here. [There is a darkness in his mind, nightmares that taint his sleep sometimes, but never this dream. Nothing taints this dream.

He doesn't make any move to stop him from coming closer. Maybe it was there before, maybe it wasn't, but his trident is within arm's reach, leaning against the wall. Not a threat, more a reassurance for himself that he isn't helpless should something go wrong. Not like all those years ago.]

Artie. [Artie beams up at his father at the mention of his name, chewing on the dolphin toy quite contently. It earns him a quiet chuckle in return.] Arthur Thomas Curry, Jr., but that's a mouthful. Let me leave him with my father and I'll help you find the way out.

[Tony is glad he stumbled into Arthur's dream. It's safe and quiet, and even though he's interrupting Arthur is a patient man. He could do worse for accidental dream invasions. Tony won't admit it, but the whole family scene is something he'd actually like to keep watching.]

Artie. Hey, Artie. Are you taking care of your dad?

[He raises his eyes to Arthur after greeting the baby, not losing the casual smile he's been wearing since stumbling into the dream. He's practically leaning on Arthur's porch already.]

Your father? So this is kind of a family thing. Cute.

[Tony says that because it's novel to him and it's clear he's soaking up the atmosphere. Even a passerby can enjoy the view, right?]

[It's maybe a little strange to Arthur that Tony seems to be... enjoying watching this? His first thought is that maybe he's being mocked, but he seriously doubts any halfway decent person would mock a man for dreaming of his family. (And only an idiot would mock Arthur to his face, the former King of Atlantis does not lie back and take it.)

Artie chews on the nose of his toy and says something muffled by the plastic, childish rambling in broken sentences, a mix of English and Atlantean (which sounds vaguely Greek, but not quite). Arthur's smile is maybe a little sadder, but otherwise his expression doesn't change much.]

This is his lighthouse. [It technically belongs to Arthur, in life, but it was never the same without his father puttering around it. And he will not be acknowledging the use of the word 'cute'.] Everyone wants to think that their family is safe without them.

It's probably best to avoid the archways in the future, if possible.

[He's enjoying it. It's that happy family scene that he doesn't know, of course he's fascinated by it. That, and he doesn't know all that much about Arthur, so this is like politely getting into his business. What's not to enjoy?

Except the scene keeps hitting that sad note. He doesn't know why, but it seems like Arthur keeps holding onto the moment a little too tightly. Maybe he's just imagining it. After all, he is invading.]

I thought it was yours. [He answers that honestly, smiling at little Artie's babbling on his father's lap. That part is sad. Tony can at least hazard a guess as to why.]

Yeah. I took a wrong turn. Are you going to be okay in here?

[He's not really imagining it. Maybe Arthur is subconsciously holding on a little too tight to this last vestige of fatherly joy, but who can blame him? His entire family, save Mera, Lorena, and Jackson (and Kaldur here), he can only see in his dreams.

He stands up from his spot on the porch and hefts his sensory illusion son up into his arms.] I inherited it, but... I never spent much time here afterward. [The slight unpleasant thought brings about a flicker in the dream - if he looks out at the sand, at the cliff wall in the distance, two graves flicker into sight. His father's and his own.]

I've stayed long enough. Come on, the nearest way out that I've found is through the lighthouse. [With that said, he turns, opening the door to the rickety little house (and it is rickety, shabby and poor but somehow warm) and stepping inside.]

[Is it wrong to want to linger in Arthur's dream? Yeah. But he doesn't think he's being that invasive. He's just a passerby in the memory, so what harm could he really be doing?

Arthur looks happy. Part of Tony does feel like this scene is a little too enticing. There's always a risk of getting lost in the wishes of the past. He doesn't know Arthur well enough to know if he'll do that, but he recognizes the possibility.]

Are you sure it's okay? I don't want to-

[But Arthur is moving without him and Tony hurries onto the porch to catch up. Dream or not, he doesn't want to get left behind.]

Do people really live in lighthouses these days?

[Not really. God knows Arthur wants to linger. Inside the shabby little house, it's warm, comforting, enticing and familiar to Arthur. The throw blanket his dad used to wrap him in on cold nights is draped over the back of the slightly holey sofa, the living room and small kitchen are decorated with old childish artwork of the sea and seashells, starfish, and sand dollars - treasures picked up on the beach by a little boy. There's a man in the kitchen, tall and dark haired, scruffy bearded and dressed in worn-in, seawater-scented clothes.]

It's fine. It's hard to actually intrude in a place like this. And yes, lighthouse keepers usually do live near their lighthouses. It... was a good place to grow up.

[Tony looks around as they pass through the lighthouse interior. It's worn and small and has seen better days, but there is something about the place that reminds Tony of places in his own world. A couch in an apartment that did not belong to him; a bed in a penthouse apartment at three in the morning that did; a street side, which was really a collection of street sides that he didn't even remember the names of but where he shook the hands of people who had always been and always were symbols of far better lives than most people lived. There was a word for the way those places felt to him, but it was always elusive. Here, that same feeling permeated the whole place like a warm scent, comforting and familiar despite not belonging to him.]

It's nice.

[Tony casts a glance Arthur's way, checking his expression as they move through the rooms and past the man in the kitchen.]

Very... very homey. Never considered that kind of lifestyle myself, but I can see the appeal.

[Arthur smiles wryly at the comment, pausing in the kitchen to hand off the baby to the bearded man with a kiss to his little forehead. The man, Arthur's father, just laughs a little as he hoists Artie up and calls him 'little guppy' and says it's time for his bath. After a lingering moment, where his desire to stay is almost palpable, Arthur gets a hold of himself and rejoins Tony, continuing through the house to the main lighthouse.]

You're rich, aren't you? Not everyone has the means to choose their lifestyle. Still, it was a good life. I always... liked it better here than I liked the palace in Atlantis.

[Tony watches Arthur and his family from the kitchen entrance, smiling a little at the way the dream just feels right. Arthur looks at home with his son and what must be Arthur's own father, and even though Tony does feel some jealousy for that happiness, he's glad to see them look happy.

When Arthur returns, Tony ducks his head as if he's embarrassed by the observation.]

I didn't choose it either. Well, not at first. But if I were you, I'd probably choose this over everything else too.

[He gives Arthur a warm smile.]

Some things you just can't buy.

[If Arthur were another sort of man, he might be embarrassed to be seen like this, in the midst of an intimate and personal dream, one so very close to his heart, but he's not going to be ashamed of it. Of himself. His dreams are his own, after all, and that's all that matters.]

Not many humans would say that. The desire for more is a strong one, from what I've seen. [Not that a superhero regularly sees the better side of humanity. But still, it was the right thing to say, and Arthur approves.]

Have you found yourself in one of your own dreams yet? [What is it, he wonders vaguely, that Tony Stark dreams of most strongly?]

Well, I never said I didn't want more.

[Tony opts for the honest answer. Partly because it is easy to spin and partly because he's started to file Arthur under the category of people he feels bad about lying to. Not that the list has ever kept him from doing so when he felt it was needed, but if he can safely avoid it, he'd rather not have to resort to that kind of answer.]

I want more. But you can't always go out and buy what you really want. Funny thing about being really rich... you notice when things are out of your reach and it gets hard to ignore.

[He almost doesn't answer the actual question. It's uncomfortable and seems silly compared to Arthur's more wholesome dream. Tony acknowledges the question, but doesn't answer until he gives his other response. Then he mulls over how to say what he wants to without really telling the truth.]

Eh, I'd rather not. Wouldn't be as entertaining if it were my dreams.

Wanting more doesn't always mean materialism. Poseidon knows I'm no stranger to want. [He makes a vague gesture around the dream - the lighthouse, the little house with its warmth and sense of family. His son, his father.] Wanting things you can't have is the nature of life.

I think everyone notices when their deepest desires are out of their reach. I'd give the entire world to go back and fix some of the mistakes I've made.

[A pause, as he glances back at Tony, stopping briefly at the curved staircase that leads to the top of the lighthouse.] Are you afraid of what you'd see, or that you'd get caught up in it?

[Tony listens to Arthur like a student, taking in the response quietly without really showing any deeper understanding of what's being said, even though he gets more of the explanation than he's letting on. He doesn't quite want to slip into talking about the mistakes part. That isn't right when they are in Arthur's dream, only feet away from his family.

No, it doesn't matter that said family isn't really there.

Tony does raise his eyes at the question though. He sticks his hand in his pocket, effecting what seems to be a casual expression. Maybe even bashful. He smiles and shrugs his shoulders with a boyish gesture fitting someone far younger than he looks.]

I'm not afraid... [Not exactly, although he doesn't voice that part out loud.] How can I be afraid of things that aren't there? You can't dream of things if you don't remember them.

[He stops meeting Arthur's eyes, looking back toward the warmth of the kitchen. Tony can't even call it regret. He stands by his decision. Hard as it was, he does believe it had to be made. He wouldn't have done that otherwise. And he can't miss things he doesn't remember having. But still, somewhere in the distant traces of those memories, he knows that if he starts dreaming, he'll notice their absence. And that hurts more than knowing.]

[He watches Tony's posture, his body language carefully, taking in the faux casualness of his stance. It does make him seem younger, or maybe it makes Arthur feel older, too much life experience packed into his thirty-something years. He can relate, in a way, but he's quiet for what seems like a long time before he finally says quietly,] Sometimes the absence is worse than what was lost.

[He glances up the spiral staircase, but doesn't make any move to leave just yet, his posture relaxed.] The exit is at the top of the staircase, but you're welcome to stay a while. [And then a somewhat pointed look, an invitation to talk if he wants, or to just remain here for a little while.]

[He's comforted by Arthur's calm. Although Tony won't say it out loud, stumbling into the Atlantean's dream is actually a relief. It makes him feel safer, more secure in the shadow of the other man's mind. He's not a little boy and it shouldn't frighten him to go through the realm on his own, but that doesn't stop it from unnerving him.

Tony looks toward the staircase. It's something he knows he has to face--for himself at the very least--but the part of him that's still railing against the situation he woke up to balks at the thought of having to walk up those stairs alone.]

I... [A thought passes through Tony's mind. One that he can't tell to anyone he knows. They wouldn't understand.]

What if what you lost was intentional? If it was better not to know the truth?

[He glances back at the kitchen; at Arthur's happy family memory.]

What kind of person would you have to be for that?

[Sometimes it can be frightening to take a trip inside your own head if you aren't completely honest with yourself all the time. Arthur isn't perfect, and he's made his mistakes, but he tries to be honest with himself, at least. He knows his own wants and the reality of it all, and it reflects in the landscape, the calm skies and the gentle water lapping at the sand in the distance. So maybe he can't understand entirely, the trepidation about wandering into one's own corner of Dreaming, but he can sympathize and provide a haven if needed. That's what lighthouses are for, after all, guiding the lost to light and safety from the tumultuous storms.

So he doesn't make a move to leave, or to make Tony leave. Not yet.] That would depend on why it seemed better not to know the truth, I would imagine. We all have to make our own decisions when things happen, try to do what's best.

[Those are words he needs to hear. They might not be true. In fact, Tony has a suspicion that they are not true, but he needs to hear them anyway. He needs someone to believe the best of him even if it is a lie. He nods, not looking away from the two in front of them. Because he's not sure what will happen if Arthur sees his expression when he talks. If he looks closely enough, he might catch the truth in Tony's eyes, and then everything will be lost.]

I do the right thing. I... I think I do. Everything I've done, I've done because I believed it was the best option at the time.

[He smiles, but there is no real emotion behind that gesture.]

I wouldn't do anything I didn't feel was the right thing to do. I wanted what was best for everyone. Not just me. And I still do.

[He pauses there. The air feels heavier. It's all well and good to keep throwing that excuse out in his own defense. Part of him even believes it. But the truth still stands that his best option at the time meant erasing part of his own memory. And Tony knows himself well enough to wonder what would happen if he knew what he had lost.

Would that still be for the greater good? Would the images in his subconscious show that?]

Right now, that's my truth.

[It isn't a lie. Arthur doesn't know him well enough to think the worst of him, and everyone deserves a chance, the benefit of the doubt, at least at first. He doesn't know the situation or exactly the decision Tony made, or the circumstances behind it, but that just means he isn't in a position to judge.]

We all have to make difficult decisions, and sometimes it isn't possible to know what the right course of action is. All we can do is make the calls to the best of our abilities and accept the consequences of our decisions.

[He sets a hand on Tony's shoulder, lightly, an attempt at reassurance and a gesture of faith.] From what I've seen, you're not a bad person. Sometimes nothing we choose to do has a perfect outcome, but it takes strength to make the call and to live with what comes next.

[The hand on his shoulder is a surprising response and it does offer Tony some comfort. But at the same time it hurts, too. The weight and the words, real or not, are too familiar not to strike a note in him. He laughs quietly, partly in surprise, nods slowly.]

I want to believe that. Whatever happened, whoever I am or was, I want to believe I had everyone's best interest in mind.

[It's a quiet admission under innocuous sounding words. He's reiterating the same things, affirming a statement they both already agreed on and at the surface just seems to be letting out a little personal frustration. But the initial answer, I want to believe that, suggests that, in some way, Tony doesn't believe it. Somewhere along the line, the answer got to be too bad and he had to start over. And maybe, just maybe, he wasn't supposed to pick himself up again when it was over. He'll never know for certain, but that possibility still hangs over him.]

I have to believe that. It's the only way I can live with it.

[The touch lingers just enough to be supportive, but not long enough to be awkward, and he glances out over the beach from the small window in the lighthouse tower. It sounds like this is hard for Tony, and he can only begin to imagine without knowing the full story, but he knows what it's like, to be desperate to pick up your own pieces while wondering if you even deserve to.]

Then believe that until it's true, and make the future better. You can't change the past anyway. Trust me, what-ifs will just eat you up inside until there's nothing left. [When he says that, his eyes go toward the door that leads into the cozy little house, where the memory of his son is.]

There's nothing left.

[Tony looks a little surprised at hearing himself say that, but he smiles and shakes it off. They're just talking hypothetically anyway. He knows Arthur doesn't really have the details, and maybe that's what makes it safe to tell him this much. He doesn't know how bad it is.]

I mean, there's obviously still things left. I'm alive, people I know are... basically things are as normal as they're going to get. I'm starting over.

[There's a pause.] It's what I wanted. [And another.] I think it's what I wanted.

There's always something left, or we wouldn't still be here. [At least until there isn't, but he can't help but figure that if Tony is still here, still alive, still getting out of bed in the morning, that there's something in him that makes him feel it's worthwhile.] Sometimes it's hard to remember that, though.

I know you know that I don't have the answers. No one does but you. Still, I think you'll find them.

[The saying the truth hurts is ridiculously simple. Everyone knows that admitting your wrong hurts. Consequences hurt. But waking up without any clear reasoning for your actions, doubting who you really are because of what you can make yourself do when you're convinced of something, and having no real memories to back up that reasoning doesn't just hurt. It leaves nightmares and a constant, aching doubt that things will never be right again.

Arthur is straight and to the point with his truth, and it stings because it doesn't play into that fear. Tony knows he's supposed to be standing up and fighting no matter what, and the self-doubt hurts even more because of that.]

What if I don't want to find them? If I never wanted them to be found, they might be gone forever.

[He actually smiles after that, softly and with a strange level of comfort.]

You're right. It's hard to remember sometimes. But here I am.

Maybe they're not meant to be found, but maybe they are, and you just need to work up the strength to do it. It can be hard, to face those sorts of truths. [He's being honest, trying to be encouraging, to say that he thinks Tony can do it if he has to. To say that he thinks Tony has that strength in him but maybe it just needs time. It's hard to really give much advice when he doesn't know the specifics, but he has some experience with difficult truths.]

Yes. Here you are. You'll get through it.

Event | Landfall | Dreaming

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)