tuvishan: (Default)
tuvishan ([personal profile] tuvishan) wrote in [community profile] tushanshu_logs2013-05-11 02:31 pm

the dreaming [open]

Characters: Tu Vishan and you!
Date: May 11th
Location: All over Keeliai.
Situation: Tu Vishan is attempting to reach out to the foreigner population, with... mixed results?
Warnings/Rating: Should be pretty tame. Will update if this changes.
Notes: This log is set at night, and characters are technically encountering him in their 'dreams'. He may or may not be exerting some subtle supernatural influence to make characters fall asleep, so if your character doesn't require sleep feel free to say he's done something to them. Technically, every creature in Tu Vishan would be sleeping during his little foray, so the streets are uncharacteristically empty.

This is not a predominantly plot-driven log. Tu Vishan is reaching out to people and may surrender plot details if the right questions are asked, but this is mostly part of his ongoing effort to become acquainted with people and the thread direction may stick solely to slice of life, depending on how your character chooses to direct it.

A character's 'dreamscape' should be shaped by their subconscious mind, so feel free to go wild with whatever you'd like. This includes details of their location and what their dream!selves might look like. Tu Vishan will appear to the characters as a young boy, between fourteen and sixteen years of age, and anyone he visits will have extremely peaceful dreams. It's considered a gift and a blessing to have been visited thusly by Tu Vishan, and one can expect good fortune in their futures if they are visited. Characters may also not remember perfect details of these dreams in the morning, or remember them at all. That much is up to you.





[The night is calm and still and on this night, Tu Vishan wanders.

He does not often take a form not his own, but there is a growing sense of unease in his shape, in his body, that he cannot escape. He knows it. He has felt his brethren sicken thus, and die. So for a time, when he can, he escapes. Like smoke, like a ghost, a breath, he escapes and he wanders.

The city is sleeping when he does so. He likes the cities at night, though the dimly flickering light of his shell is...

(Sad, he thinks)

--Inevitable.

He passes from house to house, between buildings and shadows. He listens.

'Keeliai' means 'Finality'. It is an irony he has never sought to correct. Instead, he stops at doors, on rooftops, in the empty rooms of old houses, and he thinks of all the lives scattered here. Small enough to be insignificant to him, but hardly that. He cannot so much as feel the patter of their movement across his back, but he is aware of each of them as a tiny heartbeat, an audible echo of life and hope.

When he finds a receptive mind, he will sometimes reach out and touch it gently. A calm, gentle reassurance. If they wish to speak with him, he is there.]
bindsthedead: (art-breath)

[personal profile] bindsthedead 2013-05-11 08:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[Sabriel dreams of her study back at her old school,g with sunlight streaming through the window. What lies outside of it is not the familiar scenery of Ancelstierre, but rather the wilderness of the Old Kingdom. She looks up, sensing...something.]

Who's there?

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justlittle: (ES11)

[personal profile] justlittle 2013-05-11 08:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[In Bean's dream, he is flying over the city. It starts as Rotterdam, but soon morphs into Keeliai, the different sectors laid out beneath him. He can float up high or swoop down low close enough to poop or pee* on people's heads if he wanted to. They all keep walking, unaware, except for one teenage boy who is looking up at him. Bean pauses, hovering a few meters above the street.]

Who are you?

[*canon dream description, blame Orson Scott Card, not me!]

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kelpful: (prettiest eyes in the land)

[personal profile] kelpful 2013-05-11 08:51 pm (UTC)(link)
[If ever there was a mind receptive to turtle-talking, it's this one.

Percy's dreams have been mostly nightmares as of late, involving spiders and falling cars and the sight of Annabeth's face disappearing into a gaping hole in the ground. But tonight is different.

He's sitting in the shallows on the beach near Camp Halfblood. The sun is out and the wind is calm; his back is to the vast expanse of water, and he's looking towards the place that has been a second home to him since he was twelve years old.

He smiles. It's been a long time since he was here.

The feeling of another presence doesn't surprise or bother him; he's a demigod, these things happens sometimes. And it doesn't feel threatening, for once. He splashes around a little, looking]
Hello? Is someone there?

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effective: (09)

[personal profile] effective 2013-05-11 08:59 pm (UTC)(link)
[Katniss is in the woods.

Not Keeliai. And not the woods of the Games, either, which is usually where she revisits in her dreams.

No, these are the woods from her home, the woods she grew up in. Slipping silently through them is as easy as breathing, and she finds herself taking familiar paths through the trees, one hand trailing across bark.

They're emptier than they should be. Not quite right, just like Katniss isn't quite right anymore, and probably never will be again. She feels the calm, reassuring presence nearby, and her hand reaches for an arrow, setting it to the string. She has the Mockingjay bow with her again. She doesn't trust calm, and she doesn't trust reassuring]
I'll shoot.

[No she won't]

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fatedchaos: (☾; oh yes)

[personal profile] fatedchaos 2013-05-11 09:00 pm (UTC)(link)
[Lately, Vanessa's dreams have been plagued by nightmares of shadows and girls disappearing in a flash of light, to the point where she has to remind herself when she's awake that the Atrox is gone, that it can't haunt her anymore. The nightmares are just her subconscious replaying living nightmares over and over.

Tonight's different.

She's lying on her back in a meadow, arms behind her head as she stares up at the sky, the full moon bright and heavy above her. This is probably the closest that she's ever come to having a dream of Selene instead.

She sits up when she feels another presence, and for a second, she almost panics.]
Hello?

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relentlesstide: (l'oreal commercial)

[personal profile] relentlesstide 2013-05-11 09:02 pm (UTC)(link)
[His body lies curled behind his wife, on the bed in their saltwater pool, since neither of them sleep well without cool water flowing over their gills, but in his dreams, Arthur Curry walks on the bottom of the sea, in a gentle current, bare feet on the sand and stone and sediment. He doesn't see himself any differently in dreams - he is what he is, blond hair growing out a little, beard tidy but still growing in and barely more than scruff, dressed in Atlantean casual garb. The only difference is he lets himself look a little more weary, a little more touched by recent joys and less recent sadness and stress.

He's a telepath, and he feels it immediately, the gentle touch at his mind - there is no ill intent that he can feel, no sense of intrusion, and so he opens his mind willingly. If someone wishes to speak to him, he's never been one to turn them down.]


Hello.

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gaudy: (pic#5975432)

[personal profile] gaudy 2013-05-11 09:26 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Dreaming is a strange affair for Fenris these days, especially after he spends so many nights drinking himself to sleep to avoid them. He doesn't always dream of unpleasant things without the alcoholic crutch it takes to silence them, but when he does it makes holding out for the other kinds of dreams not particularly worth it.

But tonight is different, tonight is... pleasant. He stands in a courtyard he thinks he should recognize, but he doesn't. His markings are gone and his clothes are rough-hewn, a long shirt and loose pants, not armor: his dreams tonight will grant him that much, it seems.

He feels the presence of someone (something?), but instead of flinching and reaching for a weapon, he only casts a curious look about for anyone in the courtyard with him.
] Where am I?

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gathersnomoss: (Default)

[personal profile] gathersnomoss 2013-05-11 09:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[Zelgadis doesn't have a strong sense of place, and isn't prone to peaceful dreams in general. So the dream finds him camped in dunes, with the sound of the ocean present, but not quite visible form his current location. A driftwood-fed campfire is burning down to embers, but Zel is not watching it. Instead he's leaning on his pack and staring up at the sky.

[It's also worth noting that in this dream, at least, he is fully human, with light skin (though the same lilac-colored hair, albeit no longer metal).]

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una_persson: (swinging london)

[personal profile] una_persson 2013-05-11 10:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[She's standing in a hallway in what she knows is the Convent of the Poor Clares in Ladbroke Grove: tall windows, well-scrubbed wooden floors, plain walls, neat and bare rooms. She can hear as if from a distance the singing of the nuns. But outside the window isn't the convent garden, but a scarlet, blue, and gold plain; in the distance is a fortress in the shape of a skull—the landscape of the End of Time, or one of the landscapes, depending on the whims of Werther, the Duke of Queens, and all the rest.]

I'm dreaming.

[She's not sure why she says it out loud, but it's reassuring, somehow.]

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virginprice: (braided)

[personal profile] virginprice 2013-05-11 11:10 pm (UTC)(link)
[The library is quiet, except for the crackling of the fire and the hum of voices from the courtyard below. Alcuin is looking at his book when he realizes that the words aren't really words and that means he's dreaming.

He tenses immediately, waiting for the inevitable crash of soldiers through the door, the spilling of blood and the slow death- such common features of his dreams these days. It doesn't last long, though. He isn't proof against the strange calmness that filters in, and it seems to him that there is someone else there, just beyond sight.]


Hello?

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alphatar: (Airbend like no one is watching)

[personal profile] alphatar 2013-05-11 11:42 pm (UTC)(link)
[In the Yue Bay on Aang Memorial Island, Korra stands at the feet of the giant statue of Avatar Aang. The city is much farther from view than normal, a line of lights in a twilit sky that was scattered with feathered clouds.

Both the statue and Korra move in concert putting one foot forward and extending their right arms with their palms outward, as they do so the clouds are pushed by gusts of wind. All was quiet as they airbended harmoniously until the statue stopped. Noting the abruptness Korra looked up.
]

Aang? What is it?

[Aang's statue stood straight and bowed formally, covering his left hand with his right before him. Who he was bowing Korra didn't recognize at all and she followed Aang's sentiment and bowed as well, though she wasn't quite sure what for.]

Nice to meet you.

[When Korra looks up to the young boy, Aang's Memorial statue is entirely gone.]

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depicted: (episodes and parallels)

[personal profile] depicted 2013-05-11 11:46 pm (UTC)(link)
[It isn't anywhere in particular, just a mix of places Dorian has been in his life. Carpets from Singapore, chandeliers from Whitby, flooring from Mayfair. It is a sitting room. Drink is in the decanter, and two glasses poured.

And Dorian is there, pretty Dorian on a pretty sofa that might have been painted by Whistler, with a pretty portrait behind himself. At least the frame is pretty. The picture itself is covered by a rich, Tyrian purple cloth. Twilight washes everything in warm colour, except what is shadowed.

Dorian watches the boy. Dorian doesn't know this shade. And... the boy does not feel like a shade. He feels reassuring.

How strange.

Dorian speaks gently in return.]
Why are you in my dream?

[His hand falls over an open book on the side table. The scent of it is familiar. It cuts through the room's scent of rose water and lemons.]

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epigrammatical: (vivisecting others)

[personal profile] epigrammatical 2013-05-12 12:31 am (UTC)(link)
[The Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, London. Box 27—Lady Gwendolen's box. Lord Henry Wotton, in immaculate evening dress, sits in his usual spot, faintly aware of the murmuring of ladies somewhere behind him, but all his attention is given to the music below: Tannhäuser. The overture is just beginning—it is, to his mind, one of the loveliest pieces of music ever written, and a smile of genuine pleasure—so unlike the sardonic, heavy-lidded smile most know from him—comes over his face.]

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poeticverses: (Looking Back)

[personal profile] poeticverses 2013-05-12 01:26 am (UTC)(link)
[Grantaire is ill, Enjolras has vanished, and Jehan's dreams are anything but peaceful. He has moments of calm, if not peace, and this is one of those moments. He's in the library of his childhood home, wandering around when he spots the boy. He frowns]

I do not recognize you, and I rarely dream of people I do not know.

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queenoftheseas: (indifferent1)

[personal profile] queenoftheseas 2013-05-12 01:29 am (UTC)(link)
[Mera is no longer used to peaceful dreams. The last few years her sleep has been filled with nothing but visions of everything she's suffered through, made worse by her imagination. This one would have been no different if not for Tu Vishan's interference. She is seated on the giant shell throne in the lavish Atlantean throne room that is her dreamscape for tonight. She can sense someone, vaguely, and looks up from where she was previously looking at he floor]

Is someone there?

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backwordscompatible: (brb getting kidnapped)

[personal profile] backwordscompatible 2013-05-12 01:30 am (UTC)(link)
[Manhattan. Midnight.]

[She was sitting atop the roof of her city home. A place that she had spent nearly every moment of her teen years trying to escape. But now? She wanted nothing more than for this moment...for the hard concrete beneath her...to be real. It wasn't, of course. She could tell.]

[The stars in the sky never shone this brightly. In fact, with all the light pollution of the city, they rarely shone at all.]

[Tonight, however, they peppered the sky with little tiny balls of light. If she lay back, she could even make out the few constellations she had memorized. Down below, the usual sounds of New Yorkers faded into the background.]

[Allowing her to focus on the single set of footsteps approaching.]

[She sat up, turning around with a hopeful expression.]


...Dad?

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notdreaming: stare, neutral, sad (I love babysitting)

[personal profile] notdreaming 2013-05-12 01:30 am (UTC)(link)
[ Kara dreams of Krypton, of her family. They stand together under the red sun, enjoying a particularly pleasant afternoon. For once her father and uncle share the same space, though they sit as far from each other as they can. Alura has just handed little baby Kal over to Kara, who paradoxically happens to be sitting next to the very same adult Kal she met on the turtle's back. Lara is next to Alura, and they chat idly about something. Kara doesn't really hear it, in her dream. She cradles the baby and makes little cooing noises at him.

When she notices the stranger she isn't alarmed. She doesn't sleep often enough nor dream often enough these days to be aware that she's dreaming. She simply smiles and shows him the baby's also smiling face. ]


They're so precious at this age.

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anything_it_takes: Oh crap (Brothers: wuh oh)

WOW this is good timing. Don't mind me I just need to tackle some angst

[personal profile] anything_it_takes 2013-05-12 02:00 am (UTC)(link)
[Leo's dream starts out rough, lost in a maze of dead-end alleys. His brothers are out there somewhere, beyond the labyrinth. They need his help. Fractions of memories fuel the dream's anxiety: Raph electrocuted against the hotel sign, Mikey trapped underneath the hunk of building Shredder dropped on him, Donnie scrambling away from alligator jaws...

But that's not all. Leo's shadowed by stealthy Foot ninja and tenacious Mousers alike, and sometimes when he turns a corner he finds himself face-to-face with a half-contingent of Kraang-droids. Leo would hack his way through them, alone; he's been nicked by shrapnel and shuriken alike and singed from laser gunfire.

He can't get through these alleys, can't find his way to his brothers; maybe he's not fast enough or clever enough, or maybe there just isn't any way out. Leo keeps coming up against trash-strewn dead ends, yet he can't stop trying; half-heard cries of distress and fleeting movement lure him onwards. Getting above the tight-quartered alleys would be best, but there aren't any fire escapes or handholds and the graffiti-spattered walls crumble when Leo tries to gain purchase. He's stuck on street level, funneled by architectural canyons, no way out.

Then Leo turns a corner and there's a boy. Instead of drawing his katana, as he has for everything else he's met in this dream, he just... stops and stares.

This kid is completely foreign to Leo's world, neither a threat nor in need of rescue. For some reason he knows the human isn't going to attack, and a sense of calm and peace ripples through the entire dreamscape. The enemies at Leo's heel fade and so do his injuries; the red fog of nightmare dissipates and he's no longer lost above-ground in foreign alleys. Instead he's surrounded by the scent of a living tree, woven tatami under his feet, and sunlight dappling the room.

This is the most comforting, soothing, familiar place Leo knows: the dojo back home. How did he get here?

He must be dreaming.

Huh.

Well one thing for sure: Leo doesn't know this kid. He just doesn't fit here. That's not a bad thing, but...]


Who... are you?

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willofjustice: (joy)

[personal profile] willofjustice 2013-05-12 02:03 am (UTC)(link)
[Warmth. She's surrounded by warmth. Arms that smell so good, a voice murmuring in her ear little warm nothings, teasings and affection that make her giggle and cuddle in deeper. She's small, very small, and those arms constitute the world.

It's as though she opens her eyes, and the dream shifts. She's older, taller, standing in a meadow overflowing with wildflowers. The sun is warm on her hair.

She is alone.

Tears, large and warm and wet, cluster in her lower lashes and spill down her cheeks. But she's smiling at the same time; she can't stop. Her arms creep up around herself, and she holds still, hugging the moment to herself. Her head tilts back, absorbing the sun on her face.]

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amonfire: <user name="glass-slyph"> (Got a heavy love rollin' like thunder)

[personal profile] amonfire 2013-05-12 02:57 am (UTC)(link)
[ He is alone with only the incessant sloshing noise of the ocean slapping against the side of boat as it rocked against the current without moving forward as if anchored. Which was impossible- the boat had no anchor, it had nothing but it's solitary passenger.

The sky and ocean were the same dark, inky blue and blended together at the horizon creating an illusion of true infinity. Amon did not look out at either sky or sea that went on forever all around and neither did he attempt to work his gutted vessel. He sat in back of his empty boat with his knees pulled up to his chest.

He is alive, but he is alone.
]

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saisamour: (I FEEL SO COLD)

[personal profile] saisamour 2013-05-12 03:08 am (UTC)(link)
[The gate to the garden is ancient and rusty, fastened to two moss-covered pillars. Inside is a stone bench on one corner, and two old statues covered in mold. The grass is overgrown, weeds in abundance, cobwebs clinging to the trees bent over nettles. It is night, and the fragrance of honeysuckles wafts along the slow, dreamy mist that envelops the garden. It is oddly beautiful; it is a garden that only Mother Nature has tended. He knows where this is. This is the garden on Rue Plumet.

He pushes the gate open and walks in, dried leaves cracking beneath his feet, eyes searching for the one person that still gave his life some meaning.

Instead he spots a young boy, and he tilts his head slightly.]


Ah... hello?
Edited 2013-05-12 03:15 (UTC)

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sophos: (pic#5250005)

[personal profile] sophos 2013-05-12 03:09 am (UTC)(link)
[Most of Annabeth's dreams are full of spiders and chasms and a forty foot tall golden statue of her mother, which categorizes them more as nightmares. Finding herself overwhelmed by hundreds of tiny spiders and webbing is fairly common; so is falling, alone and straight into nothingness. This one's not that different, at first, but she manages to fight her way out from the spiders and begin trekking through an underground tunnel system, layered with design from numerous time periods. She's tired, always more tired than she lets herself be when she's awake, because not even here does her brain ever really turn off entirely.]

[Covered in cobwebs, she finds herself taking solace and escaping into a surprise library. It's a little different than usual for her dream trajectory, a lot more calming and peaceful, and the sounds of a tide splashing against sand drift in through the windows. Somehow, she just knows most of the books are in Ancient Greek. It's all relaxing. Welcome.]

[When she senses the other presence, something a little more physically there than simple dream manifestations, she's not thrown off. She's pretty used to sudden outsider visits in her dreams. It's the calm that helps, and she finds herself drawn to it, skulking through book stacks and shelves until she finds that someone else.]


Are you a god? [It's a legitimate question. As if seeking out mystery people while tangled in spiderweb is normal.] What do you want?

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dominare: (pic#6151361)

[personal profile] dominare 2013-05-12 03:23 am (UTC)(link)
[ it's always snowing in Boston, even in his dreams.

Rather irritating, really. But it's warm in the Green Dragon, and the dull chatter of other inhabitants in the background keep him from thinking about how lonely his usual table is. Johnson is gone, along with Pitcairn and Church, and Lee is— somewhere. It isn't entirely home, but with friends, it almost was.

Haytham sits quietly, watching a couple waltz happily in the background. He notes the child sitting next to him; strange, considering how theirs had always been a private table. ]

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imaginate: ([kyle] take my hand)

[personal profile] imaginate 2013-05-12 03:26 am (UTC)(link)
[Sometimes he dreams of innocuous things: parties, friends, the warmth of a comfortable bed, and sometimes he doesn’t: uninhabited fields, scorched earth, and a blinding white sky. He wishes they were all his subconscious trying to tell him something - that one day he might dream a dream that came through the gates of ivory. But he never had such good luck.

Today, it’s Oa. Green, black, and grey blend together, spires stretch upwards just as domes seem to hug the planet beneath them. It’s not so much a dream as a memory - the place he fortifies, to keep the world out. There are secrets here that are his alone and he refuses to let anyone in here again - to see them, or sense them. Above, the stars flicker. The sky is filled almost completely by a large green whale, a few yellow lines standing out on its skin. If he reaches up, he can almost touch it. All is quiet, and empty.

Kyle wanders through the streets, utterly alone. He’s no telepath, but he knows when someone else is here. Instantly he’s on alert, scanning for the source of intrusion. It’s funny. It doesn’t feel sharp, or threatening. It feels... like J’onn. His heart lightens, all things considered it was always pleasant to feel the Martian brushing against his thoughts. Like a warm meal. Which is why he resists casting it out immediately, and instead, looks for its source.]

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inseine: (He often laughed but rarely smiled)

[personal profile] inseine 2013-05-12 03:29 am (UTC)(link)
[A black pit whirls below.

Javert bends over the parapet of the bridge, his hands sunk deep into his side-whiskers. How had he come to this place? He remembers losing his balance when he realized where he was. He remembers staggering on the paving stones, tottering and gripping the rail for dear life (Ha!), his eyes searching the pitch sky and the unnatural swirling below with dawning recognition. But before that? Nothing. A blank slate.

He realizes pre-cise-ly which bridge he has found. It is the Pont-au-Change, with the Palais de Justice looming on one side and Notre-Dame glittering on the other. He is illuminated by the light of a lone street lamp.

What kind of cosmic joke is this?

Javert is too far gone, entrenched in his new way of life on the animal called Tu Vishan to find any despair in this damnable reminder. A fit grips him. His lips split into a broad, manic grin, and he quivers with silent, humorless laughter.

There is not another soul around him.

Except for the eyes. Amidst his chuckling, he feels the palpable sting of a pair of eyes on the back of his head. Javert always had a knack for sensing that.

He shakes his head and swallows back his unsettling, morbid glee.]


I have gone mad. My mind is playing tricks on me, [mutters Javert, the smirk refusing to quit. He calls over his shoulder without straightening or looking away.] You can come out now! I know you are there!
Edited 2013-05-12 03:33 (UTC)

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