tuvishan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tuvishan) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tushanshu_logs2013-05-11 02:31 pm
tuvishan) wrote in tushanshu_logs2013-05-11 02:31 pm
Entry tags:
- post: npc,
- thread: zatanna zatara,
- † amaterasu,
- † amelia wil tesla sailune,
- † amon,
- † annabeth chase,
- † arthur,
- † arthur curry,
- † bean,
- † damian wayne,
- † dick grayson,
- † dorian gray,
- † fenris,
- † finnick odair,
- † guy gardner,
- † haytham kenway,
- † jack frost,
- † jane shepard,
- † javert,
- † johanna mason,
- † kara zor-el,
- † katniss everdeen,
- † korra,
- † kyle rayner,
- † leo valdez,
- † leonardo (2012),
- † logan,
- † lord henry wotton,
- † marius pontmercy,
- † mark grayson,
- † mera,
- † percy jackson,
- † qilby,
- † raphael (2003),
- † reno,
- † rose tyler,
- † sabriel,
- † soranik natu,
- † temeraire,
- † terrance ward,
- † una persson,
- † vanessa cleveland,
- † zelgadis greywords
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.]
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.]
no subject
This belongs to you, too. Come whenever you want.
no subject
I cannot come often. But I will try.
[He steps, wades out into the water. He is touching the water without being touched by it, and seems perfectly dry.]
Is there anything else you wish to ask me?
no subject
Is this my dream, yours, or ours?
no subject
[A pause, and then,]
Do you mind?
no subject
The door swings both ways.
[Then he wades out into the water, unlike Asti, he does get wet, and reaches out a hand carefully.]
May I? See?
no subject
It is immense, his mind. It is why he chose a more comprehensible form with which to communicate. Few could handle this. The enormity, the eternity. He is billions of years old, ageless, enduring. He remembers each moment of each day he's lived, the seconds and the heartbeats between them.
His mind is calm. There is a sadness there as well, a monolith of grief that hangs over them. But it is not overwhelming. It is simply... there. Like the sky and the sand and the ocean.
There is little in the corridors of his consciousness that relates to humanity. There are colours that have no words, shapes that have no name. Emotions that eddy and swirl about that have been felt by no other creature left alive. But there is camaraderie, gentleness. Some anger. A sense like unyielding alloy, something unbreakable and ancient.
It is like being on a beach, in a forest, atop a mountain, beneath the earth all at once. It is like watching the stars and witnessing the death of one. It is grace and beauty and perpetuity, continuity.
He is a turtle here, rather than a boy. But a small one. The way he as when he and all his brothers and sisters were just being born, when all life came into being. He swims, and the sea ripples, transmutes, changes. In his wake he leaves flowers, grains of sparkling sand. Sometimes he does not disturb the water at all. He circles about Kyle, and some of the pain and weariness he carries within him will... lessen, somewhat. It may not be permanent, but it is still a gift.]
no subject
He shares the grief. The sadness. The joy. The love. He feels it all and he feels none, it is too vast, like an open plateau. It’s hot and cold at once; he feels like he’s breathing through a strangehold and then he isn’t. He understands that the world here is his to see but not to perceive, so he sees it - the heart of a star as it burns out - and forgets. There are things he never speaks about. This is yet one more.
Again, he feels so small and insignificant. A speck in the eye of a giant.
(He has slain giants, walked with them, stood on their shoulders. He is no longer afraid.)
He awakens in his mother’s house. There is a lantern at his feet and its light is steady. He looks around the room, the shadows are gone. He looks up to see the painting, of a boy in a field, little, and lost.
He says to it: ‘You have hope.’
Then he sleeps peacefully until the morning comes.]