☆ TDM: SEPTEMBER

[faileas]

Test Drive: September

Welcome to aefenglom's test drive! All threads can be considered game canon, should you choose to do so; regardless of if you pick specific threads to remain canon to the game, the prompts and test drive itself will be. This is part of our September-October event The Price of Revolution, so it's fairly important to note! Aside from that, here are some quick reminders:



• The Application Queue is open. Apps can be submitted at any time but will only be processed as space opens up and game plot allows. The application page can be found here.
• If you have any questions about the game or the world, please refer to the FAQ page; if you still have questions, feel free to ask them! For questions specific to the test drive, please ask them on the appropriate thread.
• For the purposes of the test drive, your character will have access to all magics taught by the Coven if they're a Witch, and as much of their shifted form as you'd like if they're a Monster. Feel free to play around and experiment with each!
• Test drive threads can be used as samples for your applications!

• And finally, since this is part of our event, characters already in-game ARE allowed to top-level on this post.



With that taken care of...

Mirrorbound who come to the Coven after dark on the 27th, who have volunteered to assist in waking the sleeping citizens of Dorchacht, are ushered into a large room laid with pallets on the floor inside a huge chalk circle. With Nessie are a group of sleepy-eyed Witches in loose robes, their expressions calm and almost dreamy despite the seriousness of the situation. These are the Dreamers, an oft-secluded group of Witches who study Divination and dream magic almost exclusively. They show signs of suffering some of the dangers of dreamwalking - they space out often, or doze off and have to be woken by one of their fellows. Still, they seem to know what they’re doing as they prepare candles and fragrant incense. Magic pulses through the floor, tingling threads of it escaping to reach out harmlessly toward the Mirrorbound who filter in.

Miss Nessie is the one to explain the ritual in a solemn tone as she oversees the final preparations and the other gathered Witches. "You all seem to have an uncanny ability to dreamwalk that we do not fully understand. Normally such a thing is difficult, it is, but the Mirrorbound are capable without even trying." She takes a breath and lets it go, standing straighter, determined. "Hopefully we can trigger that ability tonight. Theoretically, magical energy can be harvested from the dream planes. While you sleep, and dream, we will perform a spell to allow you all to bring back that energy crystallized into a physical form, and that is what we will use to wake the citizens of Dorchacht. The more you can collect, the more people we can help."

Her determination gives way briefly to open worry, and she admits, "We don't know what form this shared dream will take, or what dangers it may hold. With the spell going, any injuries you sustain in the dream will also carry over to your physical body, so be careful, yes? You can still back out, of course, and none will hold it against you. For those who stay, healers will be on-site and monitoring your physical forms."

Those who stay will be given a piece of a very rare lavender mushroom used by the Dreamers called Faecap, which works quickly to induce sleep - and shared dreaming. As they drift off, the sounds of soft chanting fill the large room.

[Due to the untested nature of dreamwalking, IC volunteering isn't necessary to participate in the TDM - your character may simply find themselves in the shared dream when they go to sleep that night, similar to how TDM characters will just find themselves in it.]

You feel like you're floating. Around you, colors and sounds and smells swirl as if trapped in a whirlpool, vibrancy and hue ever shifting. The more you watch them, the less solid they are; they only become clear out of the corner of your eye. The area around you begins to feel more solid as well, until your feet are on the ground, and a sour wind brushes across your face and through your hair. It seems to claw at your consciousness like chilling, spindly fingers -

and you know one thing, and one thing alone: this is a dream, and an incredibly realistic one at that.

The Nightmarescape

This is Aefenglom, and yet it isn't, at the same time. A large Victorian-styled city of cobblestone streets and close-together buildings, cut through the center by the River Temese. Whether you recognize its specific features and structures or not, you know deep in your bones it isn't meant to look like this. It's subtle at first, but it becomes more and more obvious the longer you walk the cobblestone streets. Everything is... almost gray, desaturated in color. Buildings are crooked, tilting at improbable angles. Clocks are upside-down. Writing is backwards or unrecognizable. The night sky above bears a greenish hue to it, and the stars seem to swim in and out of different formations. The city is also hauntingly empty - except for your fellow dreamers. The space yawns like it wants to be filled with life; it craves, it's hungry for it.

A City Void of Life It does begin to fill, in time. The longer you're present in the dream, the more things shift and slide. You can feel it drawing from you, your memories, your thoughts and feelings, seeking out your fears and anxieties, your worries and your upsets. It slips right into your cracks and it digs out what it seeks. It turns the shadows of your mind into horrifying possibilities. Twisted features from your life overlay themselves on the empty city of Aefenglom - a single room, a building, a creature, a person. Not quite memories, they're all off in some way, adapting to the dream, warping. Don't get taken in by familiarity: whatever has drawn itself from your head is very, very dangerous. Shadows lurk where they shouldn't, once welcoming rooms close in on and threaten to suffocate you, a friendly creature's teeth and claws become pronounced and vicious, the darkened figure of a loved one watches you with blank eyes and malice in their smile. Whatever has appeared, it's a manifestation of your nightmares, and it wants to hurt you and the other dreamers around you. Maybe it's a dark what-if that has whispered in your ear at night, a bad end that you feared but never came to fruition, or maybe it's simply just the ugly representation of your greatest fear. Whatever it is, it's out for blood, and it's joined by fragments from the other dreamers. Hopefully you find a friend to help you out. If there was ever a time for a team-up. It's possible to leave the nightmarescape Aefenglom to try and escape these bad ends and what ifs. Time and space work strangely in this dream, and it's just a few steps to Dorchacht or the Wilde, or a quick tumble to the caverns Underground. Movement seems to be more about intent than direction. But it just gives a new backdrop for your nightmares, because they will follow, they will pursue you doggedly, melding into the scenery.

Face Your Fears Those who came here on purpose know what the mission is: to collect the crystallized magical energy present in this dreamscape to wake a city cursed to sleep forever. Let the others know, the ones who wound up here on accident, and maybe they can help you - each fragment of a nightmare contains this energy, even theirs, and can be collected and brought back by the dreamers who will wake at the Coven. The energy presents as black orbs, hard and clear like glass, no bigger than large marbles, with images of your terrors dancing deep within them. Coming by these orbs isn't exactly easy, however. To do so, you have to face manifestations of your worst fears. Defeat them - physically, emotionally, by standing up to them and staring them in the face, there are many ways to banish a nightmare - and they'll condense down into the dark glass pieces. With each defeat, the changes to the landscape sprung out of your head will disappear, and that part of Aefenglom (or Dorchacht, or the Underground, or the Wilde) will right itself, ease back into something normal, the oppressive air fading. The shadows will shorten and color will seep back into that patch of scenery. And hold tight to those crystals if you dare - other nightmares are drawn to them. These may not even belong to anyone in particular, but to the continent of Geardagas itself: grasping Shades of Monsters and Witches both, with white eyes and blackened skin, who wish to spread their infection; half-burned Dryads screaming for help; gleeful, malicious Fae playing terrible tricks, more twisted and insectoid than the Fae most know; a growing, creeping blackness that can only be the Cwyld itself. Even the land you walk on, or may walk on in the future, has many fears. It's a good thing some of you have new abilities at hand, and some of you have a few neat changes to help, or perhaps they aren't new at all. Regardless, use your abilities well and work together, it's time to face your fears.

Flitting Shadows Those who are attuned to their surroundings might notice something off - beyond everything else that is already quite off, that is. The sense of being watched, wherever you go, no matter where you turn, is strong and creeping, until it consumes your consciousness. Always just outside your peripheral vision is a presence, a shadow, lean and cloaked. No matter how quickly you run or how suddenly you turn to catch it, you can never quite get a glimpse of the figure's face, if it even has one. Trying too hard will make you dizzy, nauseous, as it evades and evades and evades. You might not be able to see a face, or much more than the vaguest hint of a shape, but it sees you. Don't let yourself be distracted from your mission, or from simple survival if you aren't the heroic type. If you linger trying to catch the specter at the edge of your vision, the nightmares will find you, readily and easily, vicious and ready to make you fight for your life. Ignore the sound of wings flapping in the distance, a whisper in an indistinct voice, words you can't hope to understand or even separate from the gnawing paranoia that roars in your ears. The presence never reveals itself, and never attacks you directly. You get the sense that it's trying to determine what, exactly, you're doing - and that maybe it's trying to sabotage your efforts to collect the hard glass marbles of energy from this plane.

Comments

QUESTIONS

[moustre]

[foundfamilies]

1) I expect that I know the answer to this one, but just to be sure: Will attempts to communicate with the presence in Flitting Shadows cause anything to happen?

2) Would repeated attempts to make contact with the presence result in more nightmares tracking you down each time, fewer, or no noticeable change? Would it be different depending on how you were trying to contact it (peaceful communication like the above vs. trying to get rid of it vs. trying to study it)?

Look, you called it flitting shadows and Leslie thinks of darkness/shadows as friendly. I gotta ask even if I’m pretty sure the answer is just “prepare for a bad time.”

Croix Meridies | Little Witch Academia

[roombamastermind]

Croix isn't naive. She's able to tell there's something abnormal going on; she's read enough magical theory both to recognize that she's dreaming, and that dreams have a power beyond simply being experiences when one is asleep. That puts her on guard the entire time, which is good, because things quickly become stranger to her than a matter of upside down clocks and incomprehensible texts.

It first comes in subtle ways. The english city begins to metamorphose into one with features of another, with smaller, quaint shops, some dirt roads, more surrounding foliage and cleaner air and brighter skies. It'd be idyllic and nostalgic, she'd think, if not for the mobs that appear.

At first, they're just clumps of people, clustered together. Everyday people, gathered together a bit unnaturally. Then... then Croix notices they're watching her. Her specifically. She turns, and walks down a different street... only to find another group waiting for her. This time they have pitchforks, and picket signs, and bricks.

Croix breaks into a run. They begin to pursue her. The sad thing is, this isn't a nightmare she's unaccustomed to. As if on cue, the sky goes dark around her immediate area, and the scent of sizzling fires waft in the air. Cries break through the silence of the nightmarescape, as Croix ducks down an alleyway, out of breath.

"No goal!" they cry, as the steps of many feet fill the streets. Strange, cubical machines also appear in the air, hovering about, omnipresent.

What can Croix say about all of it?

"Not again," she groans, covering her face with one hand.

[unheeled]

In that alleyway is Rita, human from the waist up, black widow spider from the waist down. She has a marble-sized orb in a pocket in her top, and it's only the ordeal she went through to get it that lets her know what's going on now.

"They're not gonna stop," she murmurs, firmly. Angrily, to be honest. She's not happy with this development. "Not until you fight back."

Getting out of the Max Rager basement was relatively easy as an arachne, and facing her father was too, thanks to her spider silk and venom. But fighting off an entire mob of people with pitchforks and bricks and... robots...? Yeah, that can't be an easy feat on her own. And given Rita is now embroiled in this, she figures it's in her best interest to help.

Ugh. Helping people. She just wants to go back to her cozy nest and have some wine. Rita sighs heavily, rolling her eyes, and when she talks it's like the mere thought of being helpful takes an extraordinary amount of effort.

"I can make a web to catch them, but it'll take a few minutes.

sylvia kawano / original / ota

[stardustish]

a city void of life.

[ There’s not enough time to recover in between the battle on the streets and the 27th -- today -- when Nessie summons those who are willing to help over to the Coven. Sylvia doesn’t have time to process what took place just a few days ago, and she’s strangely solemn when the rundown and the mushrooms are given. She has her knife from the Matriarch in her utility belt, her gauntlets, and...not much else. Still, she’s going to do this. There are too many people who need help out there.

She knows there’s something wrong the instant she sees Aefenglom again after that strange sequence, not through being observant but by knowing what her mission is. She’s on-edge and it looks like she’s not here to play games. It’s not hard to notice the crooked buildings or the upside-down clocks, however, and her hand stays on the hilt of her knife.

It’s not until a little while later when she hears footsteps shuffling towards her when she’s exploring the Haven. Sylvia turns her head towards the sound and -- well. That’s certainly a familiar face. A girl with shoulder-length black hair, bangs neatly laid across her forehead emerges. She's wearing all black, but when she emerges from an alleyway, it's not hard to see that her clothes are stained with blood. When she gets closer to Sylvia, her lips form a sinister grin, eyes red. Blank. Evil.

Vengeful.

Sylvia looks to the right, and then to the left. Someone (you!) is nearby. She takes in a breath and exhales loudly, taking out the obsidian knife from her belt. ]

Stand back, I’ll deal with this. She’s mine.

[ Her teeth are grit, and her eyes are laser-focused on the girl with the red eyes. And yet, her voice is shaky. She doesn't move, either -- what a time for freeze or flee to kick in, huh? Might need some help shaking out of that. Puca things.

There are also shadows creeping in from the walls around them. This isn't good. The girl, inching slowly towards Sylvia, lets one thing escape from her lips in a gritty, distorted voice: ]

This is my revenge.

face your fears.

[ This dreamscape is much more than Sylvia bargained for, but she’s adamant about not giving up. She’s battered and worn from fighting off her nightmares, but even so, she doesn’t want to turn her back on the people who need help. She doesn’t know if she can do it a second time, after all.

The fear that manifests when she sees the black orb is...unusual. Everything in her field of vision goes white.

The area she’s caught in is enclosed, manifesting as a large white sphere. She can’t hear anyone outside of the white space, and there’s a feeling of isolation that overwhelms her. Voices can be heard faintly from outside of the bubble -- You’re alone, and you always have been -- that are stronger from within. Those phrases are on repeat, over and over again, and anyone who comes close enough to the sphere can hear the muffled sounds of someone crying, occasionally yelling something ("Shut up!") from within, along with the sinister voices.

There is no way to enter the strange sphere. However, should you choose to try to reach out verbally, you’ll be met with a response: ]

W-Who’s there?!

wildcard.

[ Hit me up with whatever! I’m over at amplitude if you want to plot. ]

a city void of life.

[galrarm]

[ Shiro, quite simply, isn't sure what to think of the whole thing. The only thing he can do, really, is stay on-guard--it's a horribly familiar feeling, one that he hasn't felt this intensely in quite some time.

Also familiar is who's standing nearby. A friend. Sylvia. Shiro wastes no time moving closer to her, and he lets his hand hover over her shoulder. If she allows it? He'll touch her shoulder. Give it a squeeze. Maybe that'll help ground her, because while he isn't sure what's going on, he does know pure fear when he sees it. ]

You aren't alone. I've got your back.

lalli hotakainen | stand still stay silent

[nau]

a city void of life; warning for body horror heyyooo
[Empty cities are familiar, now, though this city has not fallen to the same level of disrepair as most of the cities he's seen in the silent world. It just seems like everyone has just left, just another strange thing about this place that's not quite right.

The city gets stranger still - Lalli notices when things start to shift and change, tension settling in his shoulders as he makes his way through the empty city. He's looking for life - any life at all. An animal. A person. Anything that would show he's not alone.

And he's not. He hears the skittering and moaning before he sees... It. It drags itself along, wounded and moaning in pain. It's wrapped in fabric, spindly legs dragging it forward. Greying hair sprouts from it's head, and it's ribcage gapes open to reveal a mess of organs and gore. Lalli hasn't seen Hilja in twelve years, now, but he couldn't forget her. Even without the odd, shared dream-memory, he's never forgotten her.

He takes a breath, steadying himself for a moment before pushing forward through the streets. Don't make eye contact. Don't listen. She's dead - her spirit was - Ensi saw that her soul made the journey. This is just a nightmare. All the while Hilja follows, whimpering and groaning. It's dark, which means she doesn't have to hide, and Lalli ducks through the alleyway. He can't be alone. Onni - Onni has to be nearby. Or Reynir, even, or Emil. One of them has to be here, and they can - help. They can help.

Soon, though, he finds someone, and even if he doesn't recognize them he can feel relief dragging his shoulders down.]

Don't look it in the eyes.

[He has no idea if they'll understand him, but they have to know. The sounds of the troll are distant, yes, but he knows she still follows.]

face your fears;
[Gathering the crystals seems - Well. Not quite pointless, exactly. A quick explanation from someone who was supposed to be there was informative enough, but it's an odd sort of magic, isn't it? Crystals. He almost doesn't believe it, but...

The ears on his head flick and swivel, and the tail is honestly kind of annoying, but. It's undeniable that things here are not like how things are back in Finland. Which. That's fine. It seems ridiculous and stupid, but fine. He's - he's some sort of beast that's not a beast, still has his presence of mind, but it's stupid.

He grumbles, tucking another crystal into the pocket of his cape alongside his Rubik's cube. His body feels weak and shaky from the adrenaline, the fear he has to keep swallowing down, but... He's not going to ignore this. He's not going to pretend this isn't happening. He's going to get these crystals, and then he's going to get out of here.

He looks up, scowling, and makes a show of pulling his cape close.]

You're going to have to get your own.

[This is a competition now, apparently.]

wildcard;
[Go buckwild! If you want to hash something out, feel free to PM me!]

wildcard

[silentsavant]

[As always in these dreams, Soren takes wing to analyze the terrain from above with the natural advantage of flight, clings to towers and tall structures like an oversized bat huddles into alcoves and nooks. Greater distances unfold before him. But a trace of Ike (or more pertinently, Drummond) remains to be seen...

It's difficult to scout such a distorted landscape that warps and bends, shifts with shadows at the corners and screams with terrors conjured by the worst nightmares of other dreamers. What's worse, he's always been highly attuned to his environment, so the tortured emotions of this place set him on edge.

Lalli can hear the steady whoosh of his leathery wings beating as he flies through the darkened streets. The small dragon has dipped in elevation down to the second story of most buildings. The form roaming the cobblestone streets catches Soren's eye. Any soul in this devoid labyrinth of a collective unconscious is remarkable, but as he draws nearer, something about him starts to stand out.

Soren halts his flight about five meters away, swooping out of the air and onto his boots with a few final pronounced flaps. His eyes sharp, reptilian, and crimson bore into the other dreamer with pupils expanding and constricting as though appraising him like a suspicious alley cat, and the stern sobriety of his scale-pocked face softens with a note of surprised recognition.]

...Lalli?

[Emil...]

jongdae lee | oc | ota

[itsjiaheng]

↳ { a city void of life; }

[ jongdae received no prep for any of this whatsoever on account of not expecting to end up in any mysterious and untested dreamscapes today. tonight. he shouldn't even be asleep on account of this night being firmly within his waking hours, what with being a vampire and all. which.. is where he's been. the world spins on around him, more or less — does geardagas spin, exactly? whatever — while he's been trying to deal with fully adjusting to the circumstances of his new life. it's a lot.

but more importantly, he shouldn't be here. he knows himself and therefore knows better than to willingly go poking around in places that might potentially empower the things living in his subconscious.

so, funny story.. that's exactly what's happening.

something's been chasing him for awhile at this point and while he doesn't know what it is in detail, he has a feeling. jongdae's not exactly expecting anyone else to be around when he comes tearing around a corner looking for a way out of this place that seems to change just enough to keep him lost. he's also not shy about grabbing whoever it is and pulling them along with him into a shady little alley way to hide. he will definitely cover your mouth too if you try to ask questions! ]

Just be quiet and keep looking at it!

[ the 'it' in question has the shape of a young girl. in a very horror movie fashion she has long, straight hair that hangs loose and partially obscures her face. her hands do the rest, covering her eyes. her skin has an unhealthy pallor to it and she seems to be dressed in something like a hospital gown.

jongdae never takes his eyes off of her ( and ideally whoever he's dragged along into this adventure hasn't either? ) until he manages to duck into what looks seems to be the back door of what might be a proper shop in the waking world. here it's just a dusty, dark room with not enough light to know what exactly is lining the shelves.

he's not much concerned with that as much as he is shutting the door and leaning his back against it for good measure, trying to catch his breath and try not to cry. ]

Look, I'm sorry I grabbed you but—.. do you have any idea what the hell is going on here?

[ hope you weren't on a mission or anything.. ]

[prettyrocks]

[ It's a good thing he clamped his hand over her mouth, because Tsutha was definitely about to loudly ask just what in the what was going on, and why was she being grabbed. But after that terse warning, her eyes flicker back and forth from her captor's face to the creepy little human girl, unsure which she should be more afraid of. Because that's clearly a vampire with his hand over her mouth, right? She's not imagining things?

Then he's ducking into the back door of a shop and Tsutha follows just for want of anything better to do. Finally, the hand over her mouth is gone and she can take a deep, relieving breath. ]

Uhhhh, no? I don't even know where I am right now. [ Besides some shop. She turns to a nearby shelf, picking up a dusty bottle half filled with some mysterious liquid, and turning it over in her hands idly as she turns back to watch the vampire. ]

You're not going to, like, bite me or anything, are you?

Tsutha Stoneblood | OC (witch)

[prettyrocks]

a city devoid of life

[ Tsutha has been to many cities in the past year or so. Considering she'd never been to any cities before, the number seems quite impressive to her, at least. Tarl, Meadowwilde, the capital city of Shartis itself... Yet this city she finds herself in now isn't familiar at all. She's never walked down these particular cobblestone streets. Everything seems... off, in a way she doesn't quite know how to explain, but that she feels straight down in her core.

She turns to the next person she sees on the street, be they human or anything else. (She's green and tusked, who is she to judge by appearances?) ]

Um. Do you know where we are? I think I got separated from my friends.

[ It almost feels like a vision, but her visions have never felt this tangible before, so she thinks it must be real somehow. Still, she can't find Walter, Marzia, or Adari (or Adari's moose) anywhere. She hasn't felt this lost since she first left her tribe. ]

face your fears (cw: blood, violence)

[ Travel is achieved by means of intent, and at a certain point, Tsutha intends to escape this strange, terrifying city. She finds herself out in the wilderness, at the mouth of a cave that is both familiar and not. She doesn't think it's the home of her people, but she's so desperate for something familiar that she latches onto it blindly and goes deeper inside anyway. What she sees becomes every more familiar, and ever more frightening. Sinister plants grow all along the walls of the cave, obscuring the runic writing on the walls of what is clearly a stone temple. The place is deserted, save for Tsutha, whoever embedded up here with her, and two individuals standing beside the large stone altar: A large, grey-skinned orcish man even larger than Tsutha herself, and a lithe woman with midnight black skin and shocking white hair. The man holds a book with strange, illegible writing inside it and a symbol of an eye emblazoned on the cover that seems to follow your gaze no matter where you step in the room. The drow woman has in her hand a sharp, twisted looking knife, dripping wet with dark blood. That's when you notice the pile of bodies collapsed on the floor surrounding the altar, their faces frozen in fear and pain.

Tsutha's eyes spring wide open, wet with tears of devastated rage. Reacting without thinking, she starts to gather together a ball of flame in her palm, bigger and bigger, until the fire threatens to consume the entire cave.

What will you do? ]

[ ooc: will match prose or brackets! hmu for plotting at Chris_#9103 / millennialfalcon if you want to come up with a different starter! ]

face your fears

[darkestbefore]

[ Yona had been drifting through this dreamscape to help. One of the Mirrorbound volunteers come in here with purpose, she still ends up drifting or lured into shared dreamscapes she hadn't exactly intended to invade. But this one, within a cave that reminds her of the Underground, almost seems familiar, in a strange sort of way. There's tension in the air she recognizes, and it instantly puts her on alert.

Even as she steps inside and sees the figures arrayed against one another. The blood, the bodies. The fire. ]

Be careful!

[ She calls out a warning, even though she's unsure who is who here. But she's not likely to trust the two menacing figures arrayed before the murdered, blood still dripping from blade and the eerie watch of that... book?

Her bow comes up, an arrow readied, even as she keeps an eye out on all present - but especially the witch wielding that much fire. Can she control it, or will it overwhelm her? ]

Pull it back! It's too much!

Lahabrea | FFXIV

[fuelingfire]

Void Of Life

This is strange immediately, before shadows and creatures twist into threatening things; Lahabrea does not dream of foreign cities. His whims do not generally take him to places he's never seen, nor do they usually focus on architecture the way this does, and he knows it's a dream. But why here? Why this?

Confusion keeps him mute, though his bootsteps ring hollow on the cobblestones between buildings, one more shadowy shape amongst shadowy shapes, dark clad and red masked, nearly every feature hidden away out of sight beyond a humanoid form and average height. Maybe he's one of the nightmare creatures slowly forming in this place. Certainly nothing seems familiar to him. Not the smells of the air. Not the unsettling sky.

The Speaker has few fears he'd ever acknowledge.

But the shadows pale in his wake instead of deepen, and as he hunts irritably through alleys and streets, frustration growing in time to his disquiet, something follows him on quiet footsteps. If one were generous they might say it has a feline shape, were felines made of bone and tangling frosted vines and too many faces and mouths. Where it steps, the gray fades to still, unchanging white, and Lahabrea himself ... Well, he's pointedly ignoring it. This is a dream, and anything in it is thus mere imagination, to be ignored and dealt with the same as anyone might any petty delusion. It will fade when he wakes.

The pale thing changing the shadows gradually to light like a spreading blight of emptiness gives a low, multivoiced chuckle as it passes, bleached bones rattling. The longer it's ignored, the bigger it gets.

Face Your Fears

About now, Lahabrea is thoroughly done with this dreamscape. It's not a nightmare - calling it so would acknowledge that he too can still be affected by things like soul-deep terror, and he's adamantly refused to acknowledge even the possibility. So it's an annoyance, and one he's fed up with. Unease and fear make for easy outlets in wrath, and here and there parts of the dream burn in the wake of his nervous ire.

At least something's changed, and that he can grasp onto and focus on instead of the nameless, shapeless nightmares that creep about, and these black orbs..

Well, he hasn't found one til now, and it's already occupied. Which means the person who'd found it is immediately accosted by an irritable man in a black robe. They'd already conquered a fear. He has not.

"You." His voice is less than pleasant, a dry brittle rasp. One clawed hand points at the orb. Is he one of the nightmares? Is that thing? It's hard to tell, the mask covers any sign of whether or not he might be afraid, or causing fear. "Are you the cause of this?"

Other terrors are on their way, alerted by that shiny little black orb.

[Wildcard: got something else in mind? Lahabrea has no problem lurking around other people's traumas, and might be easily mistaken as part of the nightmarescape if one was so inclined. Or anything else for that matter! I am open to anyone and anything, bring on the serious or the hideous mood change! Will Match Format!]

void

[unsundered]

On the other hand, Emet-Selch recognized this city, even distorted.

He'd been trapped there for nearly a year, after all, a fate that he'd once viewed with absolute displeasure, despising what it had done to him. The loss of his magic, his sight, given information about a future he could do naught to avoid- the insults this world had laid on him were considerable. Unforgivable. And while he still had no love for the world itself, no interest in its welfare for good or ill (this wasn't a shard to be Rejoined; this star's fate mattered not in the slightest), it had all become complicated.

But it's not something he considers as he steps through this conscious nightmare. Through this place unwantedly-familiar, but twisted, his movement no more hurried than it ever was. There was a tension unavoidable (of course there was, with whispers lurking at the edges of his hearing, shapes that moved and laughed and hissed at the corner of his vision- things that would drive anyone mad, were they allowed to persist), and danger omnipresent. But at the moment, Emet-Selch's own issues refused to manifest- which in itself was both unsettling and frustrating, the irritation of having nothing concrete facing him, and the unease of never knowing when that might change.

Running into anyone was a potential cause for concern; there was little way of telling at a glance who was real and who was not, and familiar faces in particular were a reason for suspicion. Yet when a known, unexpected figure emerges from the grey of the backdrop of the city, followed by a trail of corrupted shadows, steps made unnaturally pale by whatever living distortion was stalking him- Emet-Selch is made to stop. To still, his thoughts as disrupted as the city around him.

The sight of Lahabrea there would've been an ominous thing for most people, he suspected, even those who knew nothing of him, or of what the sight of an Ascian portended. Their robes weren't exactly a friendly look, and the mask was little more inviting. Considering the atmosphere of the place, he almost fit in.

--But this was probably just a delusion. As for why Lahabrea in particular would choose to manifest before him, Emet-Selch couldn't begin to guess. Nor did he want to even begin to untangle what he thought about seeing him again- one of the two who had been there from the end of their world alongside him. And while Elidibus had become more of a stranger with every passing year, had vanished piecemeal before their eyes- Lahabrea had burned and burned... his death had been inevitable. And unlike their sundered brethren, he'd never see him again, even in part. Resentment, grief, startle, confusion. An unpleasant mix of feelings to sort through, and no convenient place to start- and no convenient time too, with their setting twisted.

It was complicated, in short. And far easier to just consider this some strange haunt his subconscious mind had decided to plague him with. So it's with an internal sigh that Emet-Selch approaches, his steps that touch heavier. Whatever the reason for this meeting, he doubted it meant anything good. But he couldn't just ignore him either. In some small way, even if none of this was real- it wasn't. Terrible, to see him again.

"Lahabrea," though not loud, his voice carries in the stillness of the air. Or perhaps it was a quirk of this shared dreamscape, sound doing as it liked, following or denying rules as it chose. "As places go... this wouldn't have been my first choice for a reunion."

kyrie | devil may cry

[oratoria]

A City Void of Life

[This is a very strange dream to be having. Kyrie has no idea why she's dreaming of a city she's never been to, or why it seems so... unwell. The sky seems sickly and the strange half-light makes everything seem grey around her. Fortuna may still be a wreck of a city even years after the disaster, but Kyrie would much rather find herself there than wherever here is.

At first, she wanders around her new surroundings, confused and perplexed by it all, accepting the situation in the way that only someone convinced they're dreaming can, but the sense of unease is... new. She's no stranger to nightmares, but they usually involve laughing demons with faces stitched together, or large insectoid parodies of angels, grinning at her with a single red eye, or... well, the worst ones aren't going anywhere soon and she doesn't want to think about those. But this kind of dream is something different entirely.]

Hello? Is there anyone here?

[It's hard to find your bearings when you can't make sense of the signs or find any sort of landmark to bear towards. It would help if there was someone to offer her a hand. Kyrie walks a while, trying to make some kind of sense of things when she hears a high pitched giggle echoing nearby. She stops, spinning on her heel to try and place the source of the laughter. Out of habit, she reaches for the pendant hanging at her collarbone for comfort, and when she can't see anything to worry her, she picks up the pace again, brisker this time, trying to find a way out.

She hears footfall behind her, and stops again, turning back just in time to see a tall man in a white coat turn and hurry away. In the dim grey light, something flashes gold, something like the hilt of a sword.

Her heart stops.]

Wait... please wait!

[She starts to run because it's been years, it has to have been her mind playing tricks on her, but she could have sworn that she knows the person she saw.]

Credo?

[It can't be though, because he's dead. Sanctus killed him, Nero told her he had fallen in battle trying to save them. But she had seen Sanctus himself risen from the dead after being shot point blank in the head, and there had been no body for her brother. So what if...

And this is a dream... isn't it?

She keeps running, sure that if she could just catch him, just stop him and ask then she could get to the bottom of all this somehow.

And then he's stopped, his back turned to her, familiar sword drawn and as he turns, she realises that something has gone horribly, horribly wrong. It might be her brother, but he has never smiled so cruelly at her, his eyes have never glowed red in his skull before, and he has certainly never growled at her with a metallic, echoing voice and pointed his blade at her.]

Face Your Fears

[Knowing what she needs to do to escape doesn't make the practice of escaping any easier. Encountering her nightmares has left her shaken and she honestly doesn't know what good she'll be at any of this, but it doesn't mean she won't try. If she has to hunt these orbs... well she's going to. And at least she's not alone in this! There has to be someone she can help, or who would be willing to go with her. Or... someone who could at least help her work out what she's supposed to do as a witch.

Still, she's going to attempt to do something about it, as she spots the nearest person.]

Um, excuse me? You wouldn't happen to know how being a witch works... would you?

Wildcard

[Come at me folks! Feel free to PM me for plotting.]

Face Your Fears

[rootstalks]

[ She'd intended to volunteer for the dreamwalking the next day, but it seems that the dreamscape is on its own schedule; Jiang Yanli has spent her night's sleep wandering the strange, warped streets that resemble her new home, searching for-- what? Always on the edge of her vision, people disappearing into the fog, the distance sounds of swords clashing.

She's almost to the street her house should be on - for a fifth time, as the cobbles and bricks twist and set her right back on the edge of the city again - when one of the dream inhabitants coalesces into a person. Coming towards her, rather than away. When she doesn't recognise her at all, she relaxes. Not a nightmare, then. None of her nightmares are strangers. ]

Being a-- I, ah- yes, somewhat. [ She takes a deep breath, features settling from their previous discomfort to a practised, amiable calm. ] That is to say, I am one..?

yan bingyun | joy of life

[bingyun]

a city void of life.

[the overwatch council is pretty good at wringing out one's fears. it starts when you're young - yan bingyun was even younger, his father not even taking his hand as he led him through the doors for the first time. for those of the fourth bureau, death stops being the greatest fear, or a fear at all. a plow doesn't fear the farmer, nor a sword the hand that holds it. he's been the same for a long time, a tool for the kingdom of qing, a weapon. his only fear is letting his country down.

so he's steady on the outside, stepping cautiously and silently through this warped city with his sword drawn and held at the ready. this is surely a nightmare, except when did he fall asleep? how could he? dawn was about to bring too many important things.

so maybe he's a little bit anxious after all, swallowing hard and startled at the twisted chime of a sideways clock. yan bingyun grits his teeth and continues forward, determined. but he's suddenly frozen when he hears another sound.

a horse, its hooves echoing off the cobblestones until a glimpse of it and its rider come into view. the features of the man's face are twisted and hollow like a corpse, but yan bingyun would know that silhouette anywhere. even in dreams, shen zhong still comes for the screams that he wouldn't give him under his hands, and also the life that belongs to qing.

but there's a feeling that even that wouldn't be enough to satisfy the sadistic general. bingyun shoves anyone who comes near, never taking his eyes off the rider as the horse breaks into a faster trot their way.]

Run. Even if you have no information, he'll tear you apart just for sport.

flitting shadows.

[bingyun can't just ignore the shadow, even if he knows there are more important things needing to be done. he chases after the cloaked figure that almost instantly vanishes from sight. he tries to cut it off, only to end up facing nothing in a crooked alleyway. it gets harder with each attempt, when he feels dizzy and more than a little-

sick. right there on the cobblestone. yan bingyun's posture is normally impeccable, but he stays bent forward for the moment, cold sweat still beading along his brow.

he closes his eyes and just breathes for a moment. he's not crazy. a spy knows when he's being watched.]

a city void of life, i'm so sorry about her

[unheeled]

[ Well, there go her plans of leaving a web behind in case someone or something decides to follow her.

Rita did her time already, as it is. She faced her fear, she got the black glass orb, and she watched color return to the piece of town that had become the lab of the Max Rager corporate headquarters. She was headed to her burrow, when suddenly there came hoofbeats on cobblestone and some heroic goody-goody trying to protect her. ]

I was trying to help you, but sure, face your fear by yourself. Sounds like you're gonna have no trouble.

[ All of this said from off to his side, out of the street, because Rita Du Clark hasn't survived this long by throwing a snarkfest in the path of an impending attack. Christ, all good guys are the same. ]

hitoka yachi ☆ haikyuu!! ☆ witch

[chirpier]

ᴀ ᴄɪᴛʏ ᴏғ sǝɹɐɯʇɥƃᴉu

[ through the void nightmare city of aefenglom lurk horrors that was beyond one's fleeting imagination— but perhaps not for one witch who could be heard shrieking on and off. follow her cries and you'll probably see one of the following:

a faceless person with a double voice as they spoke was reading through her curriculum, shaking their head in quiet dismay. they pick out all her flaws, everything that she feels has done her wrong in the past and in the future, such as: "says here you had trouble remembering someone's name, once. i'm afraid i can't accept that into our work environment. any work environment, and i'll make sure the rest know too." ]

N-no, wait, I can explain! I—!

[ they warp harmlessly compared to so many demons lurking in the shadows, handing hitoka a paper and a clipboard that reads CLASSIFIED: ILLEGAL ORGAN SALE WAVER. "please sign here, miss, there's no going back from the black market now. if you don't do this you'll never survive." it doesn't occur to her that something illegal wouldn't have a waver, but nightmares don't have to make sense, do they! all over the girl's body, under her shirt, her arms— are marker tracks of a surgical sight being prepared. she screams, something about doing better—? oh, she's rambling. ]

I-If I sell my right kidney, that'll be enough, right—?! People can live with one kidney!! Or maybe the left, taking the right is bad luck, isn't it?! Oh no . . . !

ɪs ᴛʜɪs ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋ ᴏɴ ᴛɪᴛᴀɴ?

[ a group of men all towering at nine feet or higher begin to circle around yachi, so high up that the birds perch on their heads and— that. that is an airplane hovering past their necks, oh my god. they all seem to be offering her something from a bowl or plate and hashi all plucked from a table loaded with delectable smells and tastes of meat, voices low and growling "can you reach? do you want me to get you something? can i help you? you don't look too well, are you hungry? i'm hungry. maybe i can cook you accidentally on the barbecue—" ]

I-I-I don't have any meat on me, I'm just skin and bones and taste horrible—! [ "our favorite." ] Help!!

[ yachi yachi'd ]

ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ's ʏᴏᴜ

[ yes, you. your nightmares are after a small blond with her arms wrapped around a black orb. looks like she knows by now what's happening, and she's trying to help but she can't quite move from the protective cotton shield she's managed— that's breaking. if not your nightmares, than the monstrous fae and helpless nymphs, nibbling and drooling the black ooze of illness into her magic. ]

They need this! Y-you can't have them! [ the safeguard fractures, ] I don't think I can put another one up—!

[ not without help. ]

aot, but with a spider lady/ex zombie; cw v light gore mentioned

[unheeled]

[ Oh gross. Cannibals. Rita's stomach twists into knots as she recalls her last meal back home: chunks of her father's brain, ripped fresh from his newly cracked open skull.

She checks to make sure her glass orb is still safe in her shirt pocket, and then she zooms over on her six spider-legs, scooping up the would-be meal in one arm. For such a large creature (bit larger than a human), Rita sure is fast, and she doesn't stop until she's made a few turns down assorted alleyways in the hopes of losing the cannibals.

Or, maybe she stops because Yachi stop her. Why is she even helping anyway. Rita may be focused, but there may have been an eyeroll or two early in the rescue. (There were, for sure.) ]

Myokoin Geiz | Kamen Rider Zi-O

[geiz]

｡a city void of life｡

[ It's strange, Geiz's surroundings keep shifting and changing slowly in an almost watercolor glaze. He presses his back to the wall of a broken building as he looks around rapidly, on edge and ready to run to or at whatever might be after him. Probably at, because he's always been a fighter. He's always had to fight.

In the future, where everything is ruined.

Here, like it is right now, almost.

Things look desolate. Dry. Empty. But shifting still. He bites his lip and starts moving, keeping his eyes all around him while he listens for the slightest off sound. He's been through worse than this and the only thing he can think of is what caused a city like this to become so dark.

A sound comes to his right and he turns quickly and then sucks in a breath. No. It can't be. It can't. ]

Ohma Zi-o?!

[ The image of Kamen Rider Ohma Zi-O, Tokiwa Sougo, is in front of him now in his armor. But it can't be. Things had changed, hadn't they? Wasn't all that they worked for worth it? What had happened to bring this dictator back?!

While his thoughts run rapidly through his head, the image of Ohma Zi-O raises his arm, as if reaching out to him. He knows he should do something, fight him, beat him down, destroy him. But what about everyone else?

He looks around quickly, trying to make sure that he's the only one around before he stages an all out attack that could hurt someone else . . . ]

Stay away!

[ Is what he yells out before he turns back to face his nightmare head on. He won't let anyone else get hurt. He won't let anyone else die. Because he knows what he has to do now. He knows who he has to kill to end this.

And nothing will ever hurt him more.

But he has to. ]



｡flitting shadows｡

[ Why are all of Geiz's senses going on red alert? Why does he feel like he's being followed or watched? He ducks behind a door but even that doesn't give him any peace from that feeling of being watched. He bangs a fist against the door before he starts darting around, trying to find a way to hide so he can gather his reserves and do what he has to.

Normally, he'd just try to find whoever and whatever was keeping an eye on him, but right now he has a mission and he has to complete that mission no matter what.

Though, he could use some help on this. ]

A city void of life (of course)

[timenace]

[ It's funny, but the sensation of entering a dream has never felt as off to Sougo as he thinks it maybe should. Maybe it's because in his own world his powers allowed for dreams vivid enough to bleed into reality, somewhat hard to tell how much they might be prophetic, and how much they might be creations of Sougo's own imagination.

He's usually one to try and not deeply overthink these things, so when he slides into this current shared dreamscape, the only thing he thinks as he looks up at the askew buildings and discolored world around him is "spooky".

Simple, untroubled, and not a thought to trip him up from his mission as he jogs down the street.

Well, that part of the setting won't trip him up at least, but the voice he hears echoing around the corner just might. As Sougo barrels down the street towards two figures standing some distance off, his heart rate picks up beating at a panicked staccato from the mix of frantic energy he's expelling, and the quickly growing worry that's engulfing him.

This might be a manifestation of Geiz's nightmare, but for all Sougo knows this could be something plucked from his own head as well, or it could be real. At least, as real as he was the very first time he wandered into a dream that led him to this new world.

He doesn't have time to ponder the possibilities of all of this as he comes to a skittering halt still ten yards away, and stretches his hand out towards the pair, muttering under his breath.

Immediately a tendril of ice forms across the ground with a small crack, growing bigger and larger as it speeds across the street towards the apparition of his future self, enveloping the nightmare version of Ohma Zi-O up to his waist in thick starbursts of ice. ]

Jin Guangyao | Mo Dao Zu Shi | Naga

[turmoiling]

A City of Nightmares

Tower of Terror

Rising above the Aristocratic district is the grandiose bulk of Carp Tower, more of a palace, really, in gold and white, jade and peonies. But despite its beauty all is not well. As Jin Guangyao wanders familiar hallways, he can feel the eyes of nameless disciples and servants on him, whispering -- but the whispers are not quiet enough, because he can hear every word in every permutation of the conversation.

Did you know he's the son of a whore? I head that the first time he tried to come here he got kicked down the stairs.
I don't know why he bothers trying. He doesn't belong here.

It's been months since he heard those few words he hated most, still dogging him in dreams. He should know the layout by heart, but halls and rooms seem to twist back into each other. Sometimes, as if in the distance, there's the faint cry of a baby -- or an unearthly, monstrous shriek of rage.

He suppresses a shudder and speeds his slithering, even as the decorative peonies placed here and there begin to wilt and wither and shadows lengthen as something approaches...


Staircase of Vengeance (Going Up)

Jin Guangyao knows there's someone after him. There are so many that have reason to seek his death. Why would they not pursue him, even in a dream?

This part of Aefenglom shouldn't have so many stairs. But the walls to the sides of the street are smooth, without a way to climb even for a snake. He's figured out by now the easiest way to climb stairs with his serpentine body, but it's not as fast as running, and it seems like each step he has to stretch a little more to climb up.


Staircase of Vengeance (Going Down)

The stairs don't seem to end, and he's out of breath when he glances up to see a familiar face standing o the step above. There's only a moment to meet those cold eyes before him, the rest of the face hidden behind a fan, before he's kicked backwards, down an endless staircase, snake body flailing wildly and yet unable to catch himself.


Ladies of the Night, What Music They Make

This part of the entertainment district is one Jin Guangyao had passed through exactly once before, and made all efforts to skirt around since then, having seen more than enough brothels in his life. But, recognizing the dream, the nightmare for what it is now, he's less surprised to find himself here, even if it's still unpleasant. He wants away from her as soon as he can figure out a way.

He is surprised by one of the barely-clothed ladies coming up behind him before he can even move though. "You belong here," she coos sweetly, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the nearest brothel. "Come along, A-Yao."

"No," he replies, much more flatly and firmly than he feels. But her grip is like iron, and his scales scrape against the cobblestones as he resists the unnaturally strong pull. Starting to panic, he reaches for his sword, but it doesn't seem to be where it should. Other ladies, and a few young and slender young men, begin to join their nightmare-friend with light laughter and soft words of encouragement, grabbing and pulling at him.

going down

[deadwenwalking]

A snake. It's a snake person. And why wouldn't it be? If Wei Wuxian could be part rabbit then it would stand to reason that someone could be part snake. Of course that leaves him all the more concerned for his friend, as a snake person might come to see a rabbit person as potential food.

He knows now from his own experiences that there's something going on here that's making everyone see things they shouldn't. If he gets closer, he'll be able to stop this monster from his fall, but he may also expose himself to the same nightmare. Still... it doesn't seem right to let him tumble.

Wen Ning places himself in the man-snake's path and braces himself, so that he can finally come to a stop against his legs. Only when he's closer does he realize who he's coming to the aid of. "...Lianfang-zun?"

g'raha tia | final fantasy xiv | (5.3 spoilers likely...!)

[adjutiacator]

a city void of life;

[ for a moment, g'raha wonders if this isn't simply a regular dream, after all. for though the set pieces were different- a greenish sky and grey washed buildings instead of a pale yellow sky and lit buildings, stars swimming in and out of view instead of remaining far out of reach- the performance seemed much the same as one he'd grown accustomed to.

a stagnant world. a pause of life. the overwhelming feeling of unnatural wrongness in the air.

unfortunately for him, his thoughts straying to the similarities do nothing to help his situation; if anything, it only causes the sights around him to warp faster. the tilted buildings now appear to be made of crystal, and the shimmering image of purple-leafed trees fills his peripheral vision as he walks along the strange streets.

however, when he finally pauses to take a better look, what he notices first is not the trees or buildings or otherwise ominous changes but instead... a person. standing off to the side, watching him. it's apparently someone he knows, based on the surprised (yet hesitantly hopeful) look that appears on his face at the sight. ]

Lyna...? [ he calls, reaching out a hand and taking a step forward.

surely nothing will go wrong!! ]

flitting shadows;

[ despite the nightmareishness surrounding this, well, nightmare- after a while g'raha appears to be strangely calm. he's still wandering the city but now his strides have a sense of purpose, and although his ears do flick every few moments at the strange sounds they pick up, his eyes remain forward.

he also holds a glass marble in his hand, clutched tighter than his air of otherwise attempted disinterest would allow.

still, even though he is clearly trying to ignore something, if he sees another "dreamer," he slows down and greets them pleasantly- almost cheerfully. ]

Greetings! Might I trouble you to walk with me, for a moment? [ even with his continued efforts to sound untroubled, his words carry an undercurrent of warning... just in case the other has not yet noticed the shadowy figure following behind them both, watching. ]

wildcard;;

[ hit me with whatever you want, i'm down for/will roll with p much anything! c:
also, feel free to hit me up at vespiras if you'd rather work something out first, too! ]

flitting shadows

[darkestbefore]

[ Oh, she's aware of the figures lurking. Following. She's been seeking to outpace a few of them because they're relentless. Even defeated and faced, they often seem to reappear and pursue once more, as if drawn to her.

Or perhaps the small satchel of orbs and crystals that are secured at her waist. Hard-won, but the reason she came into this dream to begin with. She couldn't let those left fallen and ensorcelled remain lost. So here she is, gathering as much of the magic as she can, even though the nightmares that pursue her are relentless in their chase.

Stumbling across someone else aware in here is a first, however. It's enough to slow her steps as she eyes the figure in curiosity. There's something vaguely familiar about him, perhaps a face she'd seen in passing somewhere, but she shakes that off as she moves to approach him. ]

Are you alright?

dorian pavus | dragon age: inquisition | witch | ota

[magisterium]

i. a city void of life

[The city is familiar, and yet not. Dorian has never laid eyes on it before, the architecture entirely foreign, but the feeling of it is one that resonates with him, something he has felt call to him countless times. His first thought is that this must be the Fade, dreamlike and desaturated as it is, and nothing here feels quite real, or seems to fit together as it ought to— but the connection that he as a mage should feel to this place is lacking, the pull of magic's source replaced by something else he can't quite put a name to.

Whatever it is, the feeling is strange and invasive, and he feels himself grow tense, decidedly alert as he can feel something being drawn from him even as he steadily, carefully walks what appears to be a city street. Anxiety rises in his chest, but he does not let it show, confident and collected as he always makes an effort to be, though his fingers have curled tightly around his staff, hefting it from its place at his back so that he has it at the ready.

He doesn't trust this. Any of it.]

If there are any demons about, perhaps you might consider saving the both of us some time and make yourselves known? We may as well skip ahead to the interesting part.

[Given that some demons are more pleasant than others, he should hope that any that do reveal themselves will be the personable sort. They're always much less stressful to deal with, even if the end result is the same.

For now, he continues forward with a narrowed, critical gaze, taking in every detail of his oddly shifting surroundings as he goes— there's a building up ahead that stands out from the rest, strikes him as decidedly familiar in a way the others do not, and it stirs at old and unpleasant memories, a sharp tug at something deep in his chest as he recognizes the tall pillars and expertly-carved statues of Minrathous.]

Fasta vass, this can't be good.

ii. face your fears

[Generally, it's an excellent rule of thumb to not carelessly lay hands on unfamiliar artifacts or magical items, especially ones exuding energy as potent as these black orbs seem to be. Unfortunately, Dorian Pavus' curiosity has been known to lure him to do things he ought not to on more than one occasion, and having picked up on the fact that these orbs are of great import, his keen interest in them has little chance of being swayed. The images moving across its surface are enough to draw him in close to get a better look, and yet no sooner has he reached out to try and take the orb between his thumb and index finger does it appear to wink out of existance— or more accurately, to begin to grow and change shape and become something else entirely, dark and amorphous and swiftly growing to rival him in size.

He reels back a few steps, clearing his throat as he looks to whoever it is that's nearby, either assisting in his search or pursuing orbs of their own.]

Ah— perhaps I should have expected that.

[Well. Time to see what it takes to actually get one's hands on one of these things. The shape is becoming more solid now, a figure that looks distinctly human shrouded in a spined hood now standing where the orb had hovered only moments before. He recognizes Tevinter dress immediately for what it is, though it's what may wait beneath the hood that concerns him, and he feels his chest grow tight.

He should have known.]

iii. wildcard

[Something else in mind? Dorian will be all over the nightmarescape, doing his part to collect orbs and help others face down their fears should they need assistance! Feel free to leave a starter of your own if either of the above doesn't work for you, he'll jump right in.]

I

[shinkunochou]

[She can't say she recognize any of this, but that's not really surprising or new. She's found that most things are beyond the scope of her very small view of the world.

Still, she's been through these dreams before, but not quite like...this. She wanders aimlessly, ignoring the creeping feeling at the edges of her perception, until she hears the man calling out. Curious, she turns in the direction and follows it until she sees the man--and the even stranger architecture behind him.]

Are you alright?

[It feels silly to ask--clearly nothing about this is alright--but she doesn't know how else to respond. In the dream world she's reverted back to her old clothes, more or less--barefoot, the pure-white kimono with the red rope around her waist, a red, rope-like bruise encircling her throat. The only good thing here is she's at least not covered in blood now. Small miracles.]

Sae Kurosawa | Fatal Frame II | Fae

[shinkunochou]

A. The Lost Village

[You turn the corner and suddenly find yourself transported back in time--or so it seems, anyhow. It's dark and there's an ominous rumble of thunder in the distance, the dirt paths winding around an ancient-looking village in complete disrepair.

Doors and windows of large wooden houses are smashed in or caved in. There's blood splashed everywhere, illuminated in passing moonlight or flashes of lightning. In the rubble there's some bodies, possibly, twisted and mangled. Sometimes there's torches passing by but if you try to investigate, no one's there.

On most corners there's twin statues where one seems to be missing their head. But everywhere, everywhere are brilliant crimson-red butterflies that flit about, especially around the statues.

There's a chanting on the wind or occasionally the maniacal laughter of a young girl...

But as you wander, all is not totally lost. There's a storeroom, somewhere on the path, and a white-haired boy who seems perpetually confused, if only because he doesn't seem to see the actual person he's talking to, and instead--]

Yae, the Repentance is coming. You have to find Sae and get out of here before it's too late!

B. Kurosawa House

[A great hall of a grand old mansion spreads out beffore you, and the smell of blood is overwhelming. Bodies cover the floor, there's phantom screams from other places in the house that are sickeningly cut short.

In the middle of the room stands Sae, head bowed and shoulders shaking. At first it might seem like she's crying, but then she throws her head back and laughs It's a shirll, blood-chilling sound and she can't seem to stop, pressing her hand to her face and shaking, laughing as a body groans near her feet. It reaches for her, grabbing at the hem of her kimono, then her ankle.

Sae keeps laughing and the man suddenly twists and convulsives, giving a deathly rattle before his twitching goes still.

The laughter continues for a few seconds longer before it abruptly stops and Sae straightens up, eyes half-lidded and a strange smirk on her face.]

...Everyone's... died. [She tilts her head, blinks once, then seems to realize there's someone else around and lifts her head, staring with large, doll-like eyes.]

...What are you doing here?

C. The Gate To Hell Is Called the * (cw: referenced hanging)

[There's a large, earthen room with a pit in the middle. Around the room are veiled priests that line the room clutching their staffs. There's a man that stands before the pit, expression severe.

Sae stands before him, wrists bound, a crimson rope looped around her neck. When someone enters this part of the nightmare, Sae turns to them with wide, hopeful eyes. But instead of asking about rescue...]

Are you here to kill me?

[She sounds oh-so hopeful about it, breathless with anticipation.]

C

[unsundered]

[It had already been a long, disorienting night, scenery changing the moment he started to get used to it; any drift in attention, any distracted thought could have consequences. Such as being brought... here. Wherever here might be, and Emet-Selch lingers in his heavy stride, taking in the place before him, cautious. Wary, waiting for some sign of imminent danger.

An unfamiliar place, undergoing an unfamiliar ritual, centered around an unfamiliar person. But, as far as sights went in this nightmareish version of the world- well. It wasn't immediately threatening him, so it could be worse. Walking slowly up to the scene out of some sort of morbid curiosity, Emet-Selch pauses at the unexpected address. Sparing her a smile that could conceivably be called friendly (if completely insincere and not trying particularly hard to appear otherwise), his tone is similarly easygoing, and his accompanying shrug is apologetic as he turns to regard her.]

Oh, just an observer, I'm afraid. Though it looks as though you've got it well in hand.

[Or in neck, to be more precise. Restrained, with a red rope around her throat- no, the future did not look to be terribly bright for her. Still, she seemed thoroughly anticipatory about her fate- which served him just fine, given his disinclination towards assisting in any sort of unwanted escape.]

Inquisitor Trevelyan | Dragon Age: Inquisition | Dragon | ota

[outofthebreach]

A. A City Void of Life

[ Brennan's accustomed to his dreams being... odd. They had been, ever since the day he'd fallen out of the Fade with the Anchor on his hand.

But this? This was new. And strange, even for him. This was like no city he'd ever encountered, the style and designs as alien to him as the Fade itself had been. And he's oddly aware? Usually the moment he realizes he's walking a dream, it's enough to snap him awake again.

Not here, however, so he takes the chance to explore this strange dreamscape further, not realizing that the landscape changes as he passes. Buildings morph, architecture shifts subtle. Some of it becomes smooth and fluid, like what he remembers of Val Royeaux, while others become thick and imposing like many of the structures in the Free Marches. Occasionally a greenery-shrowded tower will jut up, or a rampart wander off into the distant, reminiscent of his own home of Skyhold. Not that he pays much mind, too intent on seeing what there is to see. Or who there might be to see.

At least the sky isn't shattered and warped overhead with floating masses of land and swirling green magic. For now, at least? ]

B. Face Your Fears

B-1: Hushed Whispers
[ The castle is made of dark, thick stone but there's an eerie red glow that emanates from each and every corridor, glowing from the shards of mineral that have spiked up from beneath, piercing their way through floors, climbing up walls, collapsing entire corridors. In many places overhead, the roof has collapsed, revealing a broken sky overhead, masses of land floating and drifting in ways that gravity should not allow.

There are nightmares haunting these halls - massive hulking creatures that look as if they're made up of the strange glowing red rocks themselves. Slow and stupid, yes, but stronger than any creature has any right to be. But more eerie are the human fighters, their veins glowing with that same pulse of eerie red, their eyes glazed over with a crazed fervor.

It doesn't take a genius to figure that the red rocks jutting and infecting every inch of this castle... are infecting those who inhabit it as well. And that those monsters of growing red rock? Might have once just been another poor unfortunate soul caught here.

Brennan's expression is grim as he stalks down corridors, searching for something. Someone. There's purpose in his stride, and he pays the lesser nightmares little mind. as if they're nothing more than distractions, annoyances.

Until one figure steps from the shadows, a massive sword clutched in his hand and spikes marring one side of his face. His eyes are red and there's a stagger in his step, but there's a massive - if shaggy - lionskin cloak draped over his shoulder and faded armor on his chest and the sight of him stops Brennan in his tracks, that determination faltering in the face of sorrow. ]

Ah, friend. Not you...

[ Despite the fact that he's hesitating to attack, the figure lurches forward towards him, clearly not having the same reluctance. ]

B-2: The Abyss
[ Everything is green. An eerie, murky hue that feels thick and clinging. Heavy. It's dark, except for a faint glow that comes from a distant sky overhead or the dancing shapes of spirits that flit by with a burnt ember opacity. Some of them are human shape while others are... decidedly not.

Monsters lurk here. Demons, of all shapes and sizes, each of them a strike of terror in their own right. Massive horned devils that stomp and stampede and make the ground shake beneath their passage. Lithe, flickering wraiths, their mouths forever frozen wide in a rictus of a scream, grasping hands reaching to catch and pull and tear with claw-like talons.

Brennan hefts his shield higher on his arm and gives a sharp, predatory grin as he faces down one of the Pride Demons eyeing him hungrily. His sword is held at ease for the moment, but he makes a taunting gesture at the nightmare, a challenging light in his eyes as he seeks to lure it closer. ]

Come on, we haven't got all day!

[ Something in the taunt seems to do its job as the demon gives a deafening roar and lowers its head as if to charge him, like a bull. Brennan bides his time until the creature is in range before lifting his left hand into thair, seeming to grasp onto nothing... and then yank.

....Nothing happens.

Horrified realization dawns over his face at the last moment, giving him only just enough time to roll out of the way of that charge, fumbling for his sword and shield. ]

Well, shit! Now what's wrong with it?!

[ He might need a little help here... ]

C. Flitting Shadows

[ He's lost track of how long he's been fighting in these dreams, but he's become more and more aware of eyes on him. Watching him. Assessing. That tell-tale tingle that raises the hair on the back of his neck.

He's all too familiar with the sensation. He has no more liking for it now than he did at any other time.

But he's got other things distracting him now, as well. The changes that have been happening to him along the way. It's a dream, so of course anything is possible here, but he'd never had anything happen like this to him in dreams before. not even when Bull had gotten him so drunk on that terrible alcohol of his and filled his heads with tales of ancient dragons.

Because there was relevance there. In the horns that had sprouted from his head. The ridges of crests alongside his cheekbones. The way his fingernails had sharpened into talons and claws, sharp enough to cut through most things - but certainly making it more difficult to wield his sword in exchange. And in the aftermath of a final bloody battle against a massive nightmare demon? The wings that had ripped out of his spine, stretched wide with sinuous grace and strength before folding to settle back against his shoulders once more.

He felt top-heavy. Unbalanced. It was weird. Even for him.

He stares over his shoulders at them, awkwardly trying to stretch them out, even when the muscles to control them are new and untrained. He's half-successful? ]

This is officially the strangest dream I've ever been stuck in. And that's saying a lot...

D. Wildcard

(( Hit me up with a prompt of your own, or poke me at chaneystarr with questions/ideas. ))

B-1

[magisterium]

It's all too familiar, isn't it?

[The green sky above, torn asunder, the menacing glow of red lyrium, the surreal haze of it all that brings nightmarish dread with it, too real to be a dream and yet too terrible to seem possible. It's that same future they had visited once before, though perhaps altered in some ways— but it was something neither of them would ever forget.

Needless to say, he is hardly surprised to find Brennan here, because of course he would be. Dorian's jaw is set as he approaches the Inquisitor from behind, reaching out to lay a hand briefly on his shoulder before he joins him at his side, letting it fall away as he reaches for his staff.]

Hardly the reunion I was hoping for, but I'm glad you're here.

[Even moreso as that figure emerges from the shadows ahead of them, red-eyed and draped in furs, a hollow and lyrium-fueled remnant of who they both once knew him to be. Dorian looks to Brennan in a moment of shared disappointment, understanding, but when the figure lunges forward in a ruthless attack, he has no choice but to act, quickly erecting a shield to deflect the worst of the blow as he charges forward, though it fizzles and fades as soon as the blade connects.

Well, that's not how that's supposed to work.]

What...!

[How embarrassing.]

ozymandias | fate/grand order | witch | ota

[fulgency]

[What lies ahead is a temple complex. Although seemingly greater in its size than should be possible in this space, the moment one sets a single foot upon the hot sand, one plummets into such a deep darkness, one could not be faulted for assuming they were somehow spirited away to a cavern. After all, looking to the sky there is no sign of moon or stars, and the only light to guide your way forward into the complex appears to be a long series of torches. The cold breeze that causes the various flames to sway, however, tells you that you are still outside. It's just that the city is now very, very far away, and the night is perhaps just as endless as the desert stretching out behind you.]

[While the thought of traversing blindly into the desert is perhaps not much of a comfort, the thought of progressing any further into this complex likely does not settle any better. The air around the complex feels oppressive to such a degree, one feels almost an instinctive urge to flee in the opposite direction. Each towering statue feels less as kind omniscient guardians, but more sentinels primed to enact cruelty on all who might dare trespass in this place. Even in this darkness, their shadows are felt.]

[But nothing moves beyond the occasional breeze. The complex is still. There appears to be no threat. And so, one may venture forward. There are, after all, a number of individual temples to explore and obelisks depicting great feats to peer at for as high as you are able in this poor lighting. That sort of wandering about may provide one with the opportunity to observe the gods and goddess of Egypt (none more revered here than Set and his consorts), but it will prove just as fruitful in finding anyone here as merely staying outside.]

[That is until one begins to enter the main temple, the tallest and most opulent building of the lot. Those well-versed in the stories or those who have visited a similar temple complex in another dream may recognize to who this great temple is dedicated to already through observing the walls. Depictions of Ramesses II's long life line the walls, telling of his great achievements and victories. But he also honors those who came before him and those of his household worthy of such veneration. Except for one. There is one boy who eventually grows into a man whose visage has been destroyed. Every statue lay broken. Every carefully painted relief depiction has been marred. No exceptions.]

[But for those unfamiliar, they are to have their questions answered when they walk into what appears to be a throne room. High above on a dais with many steps, sits a man upon a throne. His eyes are closed, almost as if he has nodded off. But at the sound of quiet footsteps entering his throne room, Ozymandias' eyes open and he lifts his head. The quick alertness in his gaze as he looks down at the other's approach indicates he had not, in fact, been sleeping.]

Who is it that trespasses and now stands before Pharaoh?

[A faint glow of embers breathes into life briefly behind the dais. Something very big is lurking in the darkness, it would seem.]

((ooc: so the real ozy will enter into this later, but if you want to run into him before talking to bad end ozy, feel free to riff on this a bit and find him in another temple or even the main temple prior to entering the throne room. basically, ozy is going to want to know as much as possible himself before walking into that throne room [also maybe low-key trying to avoid a little bit because yikes], so totally valid to find him elsewhere. if you got any questions or concerns about doing that tho, feel free to hmu via pm or on plurk (rebreather). i will also try to make it v clear which ozy is which when there is overlap because i know that can get heckin' confusing, but if you're ever unsure? feel free to nudge! also this nightmare!ozy won't aggress at you unless you do it first although i don't really recommend doing that.))

[beariot]

[ The way this nightmare was both alien and distinctly familiar to her wasn't something lost. She knew, in some way, she was looking into some stained, perverted portrait of the man she loved, but it also felt like something she had seen before, had seen in those memories. It was that familiarity that both informed her apprehension, but also steeled her resolve.

She had seen this Ramesses before. Maybe not exactly, but she knew his face, beyond his similarities to her loved one. She knew the more metaphorical visage. It allowed her to swallow some of her anxieties, and raise her chin. ]

I am Ursula Callistis...

[ She wouldn't give her true name to him. Not yet. ]

Hua Cheng | Heaven Official's Blessing | Fae

[deadvotional]

[CW: blood, death, body horror]

i. a city void of life
a. the battlefield

[ A dream Hua Cheng expected, but his first indication that something is very wrong is when between one step and the next, his boots go from Aefenglom's cobblestones to sinking into the ground. A battlefield has risen up in front of him, or the remnants of one--all that remains are the dead and dying, the torn-up dirt beneath them turned muddy with blood. The vast majority wear old-fashioned armor that might have looked fine once. The colors of Xian Le. It takes less than a second for Hua Cheng to understand what this is.

His own corpse is probably somewhere in this field. Just another fallen solider, another body in the carrion pile. Forgotten. Useless. Hua Cheng wonders if he would even be able to recognize it, but he finds himself coming to a stop in front of a figure half-buried in the mud, the same as every other corpse in Xian Le armor but for the dirty bandages wrapped haphazardly around its head to cover its right eye.

Almost dispassionately, he nudges the body with the tip of his boot until it splays out on its back. It's a familiar face, recognizable enough as the one staring down at it, if much younger. Sixteen at most, perhaps. And even as Hua Cheng watches, the bandages over the eye begin to turn crimson, the same way blood begins to run down his own face from under the eyepatch. ]

You should have tried harder.

b. the altar

[ It's easy enough to walk away, but Hua Cheng comes to a stop as the ground beneath his feet changes again, heels clicking against the floor. It's a dim, run down space almost recognizable as a temple, but one long abandoned. Fallen statues before a scorched-black altar. The ground covered thick with ash.

There's a body on the altar. Tied down. Hua Cheng takes a breath so fast he chokes, anything but dispassionate now.

The robes the figure wears might have been white, once. The body might have been human once. It's barely recognizable as such now, drenched in blood and covered in so many wounds it's impossible to tell where one starts and another begins. Sword cut after sword cut, each it's own fatal injury.

Hua Cheng hits his knees between one breath and the next.] Your Highness. [ The words are choked, rough like they've torn their way out of his throat.

And that bloody, ruined body sits up. ]

ii. face your fears

[ He hasn't forgotten what he's here for. Hua Cheng stalks the nightmare landscape with his saber drawn, and even if he grips it so tightly that his knuckles have gone white, it doesn't stop him from cutting down the shadowed figures that lunge toward the glass orb clutched in his other hand.

There's a figure with him. A parody of a human body, wearing long robes so drenched in blood that they're nearly as crimson as Hua Cheng himself. There is only one flash of white, a mask covering the entirety of the figure’s face. One side laughing, the other crying, the only expression it shows. Every open wound on the body shows in clear relief, but it stands tall, moving with deceptive ease. Almost ignoring the long, black blade shoved into it’s own chest, except when it pulls the sword free to fight with a focused intensity. Something in Hua Cheng shudders every time the sword is resheathed in the figure’s body, but he keeps moving.

Eventually, he’ll have to face this pale, horrific imitation of His Highness too. He can’t. Better to have this with him than nothing at all. His Highness walks silently by his side, fights at his side, and Hua Cheng can almost ignore everything else. The way a river of blood still runs down his face from under his eyepatch. He is Crimson Rain Sought Flower, and he will show this dreamscape what that means.

They make a nightmare pair themselves, but they’ll throw themselves between dreamers and their nightmares with no hesitation. Perhaps if Hua Cheng tears through other people’s fears, he can keep his. ]

iii. wildcard

[ Hit me up, or come poke me at to plot something. ]

b. sparkles.

[dianxias]

[ though xie lian is unsure how he ended up in this place, it is unlike him to see danger and let it lie low.

especially when that danger feels familiar. he was fighting off the strange shadowy figures the best that he could before, ruoye snapping out in the darkness, but one misstep and suddenly, he's ankle deep in a pile of ash.

he stands at the door of the ruined temple, brows furrowed, ruoye hovering near his face. xie lian has long since gotten used to fighting without a sword, even with fangxin back at his side, and its lack of presence here is no hindrance, but for the moment, he almost desperately wishes he had it, as every hair on the back of his neck stands up.

because xie lian knows this place, and he knows the altar. he knows the body, too, if you can call it that, the facsimile of flesh stitched together as his body had slowly healed itself, because even when xie lian wanted it the most (it hurts it hurts it hurts i want to die i want to die i want to die) death didn't find him.

his heart lurches and twists in his chest, the bone deep, chilling fear that he feels stirring familiar, but it's not just for the sight of his own mutilated body.

it's for the person standing in front of it. ] S--

[ xie lian's voice almost fails. he takes a breath. he reaches out. ] --San Lang!

[ and cries out for hua cheng from behind him, utter desperation in the name as it rips free from his throat. ]

steak / food fantasy / witch

[battlebound]

— void of life.

( He recognises Aefenglom immediately, the streets, the buildings, and...

His horns, still curled closed to his head. Steak pauses, ignoring the obvious signs of something wrong in the city (too grey, that building sticking out at an angle that would cause someone even a centimetre taller than his five foot eleven inches to duck) to brush fingers down his exposed abs, across his hips, as he tilts his head from side to side.

He looks exactly as he should. Exactly as he did when he first arrived here, fresh from Tierra without the mutations of a chimera marring his usual appearance. And Steak breathes a sign of relief, the pleasant buzz of magic humming through his veins in a way which is almost akin to Soul Power.

Not quite, but Steak never was the type to sense the small fluctuations and changes in Soul Power, or to analyse whether a Soul had somehow lost all of theirs. It's delicate, pointless work which can just as quickly be determined through battle, or through the Soul's own behaviour. Or sometimes, when those Souls are truly lost, simply because the aura is so overwhelming even a human could notice it.

He steps down the streets easily with the kind of assurance which would make anyone think he hasn't been away from Aefenglom for a minute, that he's a long-time resident worth questioning. Only now that he's ascertained that he looks, well, like himself and not like a terrible knock off of Uke Mochi, his red eyes take in all those little details he was ignoring before. The way the city is just off, just left of centre, surreal and theatrical, and a million miles from the usual contents of his dreams. Always, always grounded in reality as they are. He doesn't notice the things sinking inside of him, the strange sensations written off as muscle twitches or simply his own concern about the state of things.

At least, until he comes across the castle.

The building itself is expansive and imposing, written over one of Aefenglom's nicer residences, several storeys high with rattling windows and gates off their hinges. Cold seems to roll off it in waves, something terrible and deep, an aura far beyond anything the surrounding city gives off.

And Steak recognises it immediately. His hand clenches the hilt of his sword, fingers curling into it until bones ache, and he's off before anyone can say anything to stop him. Off to the ballroom, where noblemen and women have frozen in their dance, and a handsome white haired man in a red robe stands, surrounded by knights and their swords, clutching a woman.

A knight — blond, blue eyed, classically handsome — steps forward, and the tremble in the hand holding his sword is barely noticeable, but somehow you can. Maybe because Steak can, maybe because the stench of blood fills the room in a way Steak doesn't remember it doing. )

Tch, it's cold.

( The white haired man pouts and tosses the woman away, sending her crashing to the floor, and the blond knight rushes forward, and Steak sees his opening, lashing out with a sword, flames licking at the steel.

There's no time to entertain the surprise, not beyond the brief widening of blood red eyes, because Bloody Mary immediately throws ice cold arrows at him, smile as sharp as a knife. )

— flitting shadows.

( It happens once, and Steak ignores it, because there's a million other things it could be, and because he needs to make his way through this city and back to reality. (Whatever that may be. He thought it was Tierra, for about twenty minutes.) He keeps walking, ignores the niggling feeling of being watched as he winds his way further into the city.

It happens again, and he turns his head. A shadow. A single, amorphous shadow. It could still be anything, and it probably is, so he should just keep walking.

And yet—

There's noise. Flapping wings, like nearby creatures in a city devoid of life, that seem to brush right by his ears and feel a million miles away all at the same time.

He turns his head again, sharp, and his vision spins, blurring the form following him even further. Irritation builds in his stomach, along his spine with the goosebumps coating his flesh, and he grinds his teeth. )

...What are you?

( A whisper, a guttural rumbling which almost sounds like words but not really, and Steak plants his feet firm, unsheathes his sword, and takes aim at the nearest sign of life.

Better hope that isn't you. )

— wildcard.

( Got something else you wanna do? Hit me! )

flitting shadows

[unheeled]

[ It's not Rita he nicks, but a strand of the web she's weaving overhead. (Why? How dare you. First of all, it's none of your business. Second, she wants to. Third, if she does this, she can catch whatever the hell keeps hiding whenever she turns around to look for it.)

Anyway, he does that, and he throws the delicate equilibrium of the web off, and Rita slips from where she's perched, saving herself by grabbing onto another strand with her fuzzy spider legs. Which she has now. And she's a lot less bothered by than she would've been a week ago.

Better half spider than undead. ]

Oh my god. Arachne at work here, horn boy!

[ She's dangling upside down, and will right herself as he replies. This spider half has a lot of perks. The silk is strong and so useful, honestly. ]

Wen Ning | The Untamed | witch

[deadwenwalking]

i. a city void of life

When he walks he hears the sounds of chains rattling, scraping against the pavement, but when he looks down he sees nothing.

Wen Ning feels weak, disoriented, and there's a slow stream of tears running steadily down his cheeks. He didn't think he was physically capable of crying anymore (he'd certainly tried) but now that he is he can't stop. They keep coming. He wipes at them with the back of one hand but it hardly helps.

"A-Yuan?" He calls the name out into the empty streets, not for the first time since he'd found himself there, not expecting to hear anyone call back. He keeps the hand not trying to stem his tears clasped to his robes near his heart. It's pounding too heavily, too loudly. Anyone nearby has to be able to hear it, he imagines.

The cobblestones under his feet become slick, wet with what he assumes must be water from a recent rain shower. But then he feels something drip onto his shoe, and turning his eyes downward reveals that both of his hands and forearms are coated in blood. It pools underneath scattered bodies that he now realizes are all around him. He freezes, breaths shaky, and a familiar voice speaks up behind him.

What did you do?

The voice is full of a venom he's only once heard directed at him, and he doesn't want to turn around. He squeezes his eyes shut instead. "I don't... I didn't... I don't remember..."

WHAT DID YOU DO?? The voice screams at him, and he's hit from behind with enough force to knock him to the ground. He throws his bloody arms over his head, still refusing to look at the speaker.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

ii. face your fears

Wen Ning stands alone, exhausted, staring at the small black orb in front of him. He finally reaches out - slowly, cautiously, to grasp the object and clasp it in his hands as if it's immensely precious, despite the nightmare it contains.

He's spent a while having to bear resentful energy, not letting it consume him, but the terrors here are still difficult to deal with. They know right where to hurt him.

The young man seems a bit wary, skittish, and the eyes that skim over the recently cleared area are completely black in color. The magic he's used still exists in a dark mist around the base of his robes that's only now dissipating.

He holds the orb close to his chest and finally limps away from the scene.

iii. wildcard

(Anything else! If necessary I can be contacted at laverinth or PMed on this journal.)

1.

[weiward]

[he hears a familiar voice calling a familiar name. a part of him expected it to be a trap within the dream that was laid especially for him, more voices like the ones he's already been hearing. but he follows it anyway, holding the sword that lan wangji had made for him some months ago.

there's so much blood waiting for him. he can smell it, but it's too familiar for him to want to turn back or even cover his nose against it. death, and in the middle of it-]

Wen Ning? Hey!

[wei wuxian sees him as he's knocked to the ground. he's definitely not a trick of the dream, just another victim of it.]

Leave him alone!

Jun'ichi "Jun" | DnD OC | Witch

[foxofthefae]

Note: Jun is a three-tailed kitsune with white fur.

A City Void of Life

[If you happen across Jun in the city as he wanders, his familiar Tsuya at his side guiding his steps, the city twists like it does for everyone...though for Jun it seems things twist and grow a little.

This is what happens when you're used to seeing things from about two feet off the ground and you're in a nightmarescape. It's Tsuya who's most skittish about everything, even if Jun's knuckles are white on his staff and his tails twist in agitation as he urges the little faerie fox on.]

It's not real, Tsuya, just keep going. It's not real. It's not real.

[Maybe if he keeps telling himself that, he'll believe it. The voices sound so real, though.]

Face Your Fears

[At least this part is easy. He's eventually stopped by a nightmare, a tall thin boy with a dark fox tail and ears who looks nearly identical to Jun holding a sword. Tsuya's hackles are raised but the older kitsune just looks in the boy's general direction, waiting.

The nightmare takes a step forward, sword raised. Jun doesn't flinch.]

If you are trying to frighten me, it won't work. Tetsu's a bard. That's already a father's worst nightmare.

[Not to mention he's already seen him nearly dead thanks to a certain asshole Faerie Queen. At least with this nightmare, blasé refusal to be outwardly frightened seems to work and it shrinks into glass. Tsuya scurries over to pick it up while Jun leans on his staff in relief.]

Wildcard

[Want something else? HMU on Plurk or just have your character run across Tsuya, who likes to wander off despite Jun being blind and Tsuya being his seeing eye familiar.]

City!

[darkestbefore]

[ She hears the voice as she drifts from one city-scape to the next. Searching, for the moment. Not for other Dreamers, although she finds them occasionally, but the nightmares themselves that lurk here. And the magic that needs to be gleaned and gathered from them. She already has several small orbs secured in a satchel at her waist.

But hearing a voice nearby has her slowing to look around before she can move forward with intent again. And then she pauses longer to take in the figure before her with eyes widening in amazement. And a little bit of awe.

She's never seen anyone like this before. And beautiful.

Taking a step forward and noting he has a smaller companion at his side, she calls out to him as she approaches. ]

Hello? Are you lost?

Alice Elliot | Shadow Hearts | Witch | OTA

[adventageous]

i. A City Void of Life

[When Alice first arrives in the dreamscape, she mistakes it for Yuri's graveyard of the soul--or, possibly, her own. There's the same discolored sky, the same oppressive silence, the same feeling of being watched and taunted from just beyond her sense of vision... The longer she stays, the more the buildings seem to resemble graves and gates and mausoleums.

In time, however, she realizes there's one key difference: there's no soul to be found here, hers or anyone else's. Wherever this place is, it's truly some kind of void that her own thoughts seem to twist and turn at will. That fact is even more chilling than her first theory, as it places her completely out of her own depth. Souls, she can handle. Nothingness is a whole other story.

Luckily(?), she isn't alone here. There are other people walking about, and it seems that they are lucid and present in a manner similar to herself. Since there's nothing to be gained by keeping to herself, she approaches someone (you!) in an attempt to investigate what, exactly, is going on.]

Pardon me, but do you know where this place is? Or what's going on?


ii. Face Your Fears

[As Alice moves through the dreamscape, the graveyard-city churns and morphs until it comes to resemble an alleyway in Rouen, France. Blood and viscera are strewn everywhere. Slowly, horribly, the body parts move of their own accord and gel back together with a squelching sound. Before long a man stands before Alice, both looking at and through her.

Despite herself, Alice reacts. This scene is of the worst night of her life, and to see it reversed like this is a cruelty in and of itself. It can't be real. But yet...]

Father, I--!

[The man interjects.]

"You're no daughter of mine. You who sold your very soul, and for what?!"

[Alice is taken aback and visibly startles--her father was never so cold to her in his lifetime. He would have understood what she had done, why she had done it. He would have done what he could to help her and Yuri both. She's sure of it.

Come to think of it, even his very voice is wrong.

As soon as that thought occurs to Alice, her father's body bloats and mutates. She watches, dumbfounded with horror, as it takes the shape of a large head with painfully broken skin and several eyes. Suddenly, this all makes sense.

The face stares her down, peering into her very soul.]

"You say you have no regrets, but you still fear the unknown stretch before you once your time expires.

That time is now. Your penance is due."

[And without another word, the face lunges forward to strike.]


iii. Wildcard

[If there's something else you'd rather do with Alice, feel free to hit me up at asondeiru for plotting purposes. I'm down for just about anything. :)]

ii. Face Your Fears

[darkestbefore]

Watch out!

[ The warning is called out from the shadows behind her as another figure steps into this Dreamscape. On accident, in fact, but she'd arrived in time to see the figure of a man morph and twist into a monster.

And also in time to hear that shocked cry of Father.

Having experienced a similar nightmare of her own while travelling these dreams, Yona is quick to react, her bow coming up and an arrow whizzing for the monster ahead of the unknown girl. ]

eren jaeger & mikasa ackerman | attack on titan | ota

[usurpers]

( this is a joint top level, so please mention in the header whether you want a tagback from eren (usurpers), mikasa (stopfen), or both! we'll be replying separately so no need to worry about messy threeways if you choose both! (unless you want one, then let us know). there are also major spoilers for aot here! )

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ʟᴀsᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟs

[ something isn't right when the air grows chokingly hot and the night seems even darker, but then again, nothing found in this dreamscape was right. what you've come across, whether gradually or suddenly, is a monster of over 300 meters, taller than any house, wider than any open field.  not even the buildings of aefenglom stacked and combined on top of each other could reach the creature's vertebra, fanning upwards and out like two bony wings begging to be spread.  it moves with the loud wails of its bare ribs, a literal cage, dragging into the earth and picking up dust, smoke, and ash from whatever it touches, walking much like a centipede would.  seeing it from behind can very well lead to thinking it a beast long dead and put into a museum, but its front is even further chilling.

the torso of something that bares the resemblance of a human hangs upside down from its spine. its arms, its head, its long black hair, it all dangles and swings like a lifeless marionette. that, until the strings of exposed ligaments are pulled up with the ugly pops of bone sliding into place. it moves its head, looks straight at you, and begins to maneuver toward its watcher with a few whispering, deep, intruding words that rise and fall in the mind like a chorus, like hundreds of voices at once anchoring into the voice of a single man: i'll destroy them. every last one of those animals . . . that's on this earth.

you're in danger now, too, of falling victim to either the blazing heat or being deliberately trampled— but both a black scaled dragon and a buzzing mantis fae are the closest to it, gliding towards it, or, most likely, to you, who's in the way of a catastrophic attack that blows back towers with something as simple as a lift of a finger. ] 

idk who I want to tag me back?? Maybe Ereh???

[stopfen]

[You might awaken as you are here, are you willing to take that risk?

It had been an unusually stern warning, given the witch with the mushroom had approached her with a yawn first. But the fae had nodded, taking it anyway. Remain here, injured and struggling to breathe, the lingering sting of the iron dust remaining even if the healers had removed the fine powder. She couldn't get far, not with that and her leg. The rapid movement hadn't reopened the wound. Her body didn't work like that anymore. But it stung like it had the day she'd been stabbed. As though she hadn't spent more than a month healing.

She was stuck. Left awake, waiting for something to happen and in pain. Or she could sleep and maybe be able to move again.

Like every other time, the dream felt real. Her eyes blinking as she looked up at the overcast sky. Uninjured. Able to feel small rocks and cracks on the hard surface she was led on, along with sticks? Sticks that shifted when she started to pull herself up to sit. But that didn't matter.

Because for a moment, Mikasa thought that all those comments about how time worked here-

Was absolute bullshit.

Because she was sat up high, on the small shard of the wall that remained. Looking out at plains, a trees that had been trampled on one side, and the ruins of Shinganshina's buildings behind her. In that moment, it felt like the world had kept moving. A heavy dread building in her stomach, I was late. They'd needed me. Here. But...As she moved to stand again, those sticks on her back stretched out. Sharp, viciously hooked tips pushing into the wall. Mikasa stilled, the sticks stilled. She stared...

...And stared... The antenna on her head giving a twitch.

Then she leant back, sighing again. Looking up at that sky, the one she'd known her whole life. Instead of looking at the more recent additions to her life. Was it bad, that a part of her was glad? She wasn't sure...She wasn't sure what to make of being here again either.

She stayed in her little spot. 'Harvest magical energy' the witches had said, she could sense magic. Not that well, but she needed to get her bearings first. For that, she'd take advantage of this high point.]

Aurora | Child of Light | Witch or Fae

[fauxcess]

A. A Nightmare, Too Much to Bear

The city of Aefenglom fades away,
Replaced by a land from far away.

Lemuria, the kingdom of magic and dreams,
But all is not right here, it seems.

Of sun, moon, and stars, the sky’s devoid,
Below, the towns of its people destroyed.

Through a mirror, a vision is rendered,
Of a Duke, his will to live surrendered.

His precious daughter, lost to eternal sleep.
His despair has grown inescapably deep.

Aurora, his daughter in the dream world lost,
Finds she cannot bear this cost.

The girl bows her head, and tears fall from her eyes.
Two worlds have been lost, she does naught but cries.

“No light’s been restored, my effort was in vain.
I feel as if my very heart’s been cut in twain.”

In the face of such dark desolation,
Who can offer her consolation?

B. A Magical Gift, Your Spirits to Lift

Though she be but a child in a costume crown,
If you seek someone brave, none better could be found.

Against the nightmare that threatens you,
Aurora stands small, but solid and true.

In gloved hands, she raises her flute and begins to play,
In hope that with music, your fear melts away.

[TL;DR prompts:
A. The magical land of Lemuria, where Aurora awoke after being poisoned by her evil stepmother, remains trapped in darkness despite Aurora’s attempt to restore the stolen light from the Sun, Moon, and Stars. The land is trapped in eternal night and ruled over by the evil queen. Through a portal to Aurora’s home, she has learned that her father, the Duke of Austria, is dying of despair because of Aurora’s untimely death. This nightmare leaves Aurora in despair.

B. Moving from her nightmare to someone else’s, Aurora attempt to help the character she finds overcome their fears with the help of her trusty flute. It works in her canon, but who knows if it’ll do anything here.]

Lady Maria | Bloodborne | Witch

[whomthebelltolls]

[1: Good Hunter, Lost In the Nightmare - CW: Blood, moving corpses, Maria not being affected by any of it]

[Maria had visited Dorchacht cursorily, but only ended up staying for a few toasts, a few drinks, to check in on things, but had left before things had really gone to hell there.

Of course Morgana was back. Maria was going to have to make some kind of "I told you so" trinket to give to the Circle of Three to remind them, every single time they thought things were going well, that there was still going to be a lot of work ahead; that nothing was assured, and danger would be around every corner.

But for now, she volunteers to traipse into the Dream, willingly. She's walked just about every one of these that has existed since the Mirrorbound first started, might as well go to this one, as well. Not like she thinks there's much danger; at least, until Nessie makes the warning.

Oh well. So there's danger. She still doesn't care. Dying in a dream sounds about right for someone like her, and she steps into the beyond easily, after the mushroom kicks in.

It's... Aefenglom. But it's Aefenglom the same way the Hunter's Nightmare was Yharnam; twisted and bent and not quite the same. The reminder doesn't even phase Maria, and she walks forward, until she sees sunlight glaring out from between two buildings, shining on... an ankle-deep river of blood that has taken up where there should be a street, draining out into the river Temese. Piles of corpses line the streets, occasionally rising with a groan to reach out - for the sky, for passers-by, for anything. The ground is twisted, warped, and the buildings seem to be a mix of familiar ones of Aefenglom, and unfamiliar dark, pointed spires that almost seem reminiscent of Dorchacht's architecture. The light is coming from a low-hanging sun in the sky. One that seems to be slowly overtaken by a membraneous darkness.

It is that sun Maria stops to stare at, standing in the ankle-deep blood. One of the corpses groans and reaches for her. She ignores it, in favor of crossing her arms over her chest.] ... So we're to take energy from a Nightmare, then.

[Noise is what grabs her attention, and she turns a bit to see if it's another dreamer, or if it's that strange shadow that's been watching her this whole time.] Ah, watch your step. The ground bleeds in nightmares.

[Not just because there is a river of blood, but some of the twisted earth pushes up into gravestone-like boulders; ones that split in the middle and then are connected between their parts by thick strands of semi-coagulated blood.

At the end of the street, what would be Aefenglom's central clocktower has been replaced by a huge building.

Maria eyes that, as well, when she turns back to the light.]

[2: What Did You Think, of That Beastly Legend - CW: Body horror, everyone is secretly Maria's enemy]

[The silence of the streets is broken by a horrific roar, that echoes off the buildings and probably can be heard from half the town away. Following it to the source is a problem, though, because the closer one gets to the source, the more... weird Beasts start popping up. They mull about the otherwise empty streets. The most numerous are... well, they still look pretty human - some armed, some not, all with wiry fur and strange, deformed limbs. Some have even grown larger and more beastial.

More disturbingly: Many have familiar faces. People Maria knows. Witches might find themselves the more human-looking of the creatures, though perhaps not. Monsters however will see themselves as the worst of the creatures. A turnskin may see familiar fur patterns or hair on a Scourge Beast, a chimera might see their traits reflected in a Beast-possessed Soul or a small Cleric Beast. They don't really speak, except to spit insults. They attack; and their strength is brutal and deadly. A normal human cannot come anywhere near standing toe-to-toe with these creatures. A Monster may fare a bit better, but when every attack from these creatures can easily cleave off limbs or pierce ribcages, extreme caution is necessary. Or... getting creative and sneaking past them. It is very easy to get surrounded on the night of the Hunt, after all.

Maria's always been afraid of the Monsters turning to nothing but Beasts. Now, she's surrounded by them.

But it's the Merrow that have driven Maria up a goddamn building, where she sits on a roof and refuses to move; not until she has to drop down to save some unfortunate idiot that got stuck in the middle of this mess. The closest to the center of the town is where those who are of a piscine persuasion may see fish people trotting around, burbling curses ("Blasphemous... murderer... bloodless animal... where'd it go...") as they seem to canvas the area, looking for her. As with the Beast-Monsters... the merrow traits of Monsters around Aefenglom are reflected in these fishmen.

Oh, and that roar? It was one of these handsome fellows.

Its scales are black and gold.]

[3: And Those Ailing Wards of the Church?]

[She isn't sure how she ended up on the docks. She isn't supposed to be here. She was going the other way, and then the nightmare took her, she supposes, because she's on the docks.

There's a flutter of iridescent white in the depths of the sea, and Maria barely gets the chance for what it is to sink in before a forty-or-more foot long creature bursts from the seas, clawing its way up onto the docks with its arms.

This is the truest form of Maria's worst and deepest, darkest, nightmares.

Maria backs off, fast, and hard, and slips and ends up on her ass as the creature bares down on her. It stops only far enough away to stretch its long, distended neck forward, the flaps of skin stretching back enough to reveal there is a woman's face beneath it, wreathed in tentacles. Tentacles that reach forward and wrap around Maria's arms and legs.

And what is the first thing she says?]

No... no, I'm sorry-!

[But though she's apologizing, near-hysteric on the dock, the creature continues to, without speaking, pull her toward the ocean.

A Great One's words can't be understood, after all.]

I'm sorry, Kos, I wasn't myself, I-

[She grunts as she pulls, trying to fight, and continues to slide down the docks. Magic is forgotten, swords are forgotten. Guns are forgotten. There is only Maria about to be drowned by this thing.

And honestly, maybe she deserves it.]

[4: Wildcard]

[I'm mostly just here to inflict Yharnam and its various Nightmares upon people, but if you want me for anything else, hit me up! I am at Reslari on Discord at Reslari#9561, and at the plotting post right here!]

1

[just_a_doll]

[ A strange paradox is falling asleep in a dream. Stranger still that she should even dream at all, a doll shouldn't require sleep, and she doesn't. Not really. But it is something that happens from time to time. While not at all clear, there are the flashes of a life she never once knew; memories that are not her own. The clashing of swords, gnashing of teeth and squelches of blood. The screams and shrieks coming from the blackness of a world she can only partially visualize. A kick of desperation-fueled energy that has her reeling the moment she wakes. When Gehrman sleeps, she hears his restlessness, his cries for salvation; to be awoken and freed of his shackles. Whatever comfort she may have been able to offer in the past wilted away long ago when he began distancing himself, only seeking her out on the rarest of occasions.

When dreams seem to be such a source of despair and the waking world proves to be a nightmare all on it's own, that gives her all the more reason to be a soothing presence to those in the hunter's dream. A source of strength and comfort. Even should be she dragged into a nightmare, herself.

The nights that Gehrman was content to calmly ponder alone in his workshop was when she found herself drifting the most. When sleep wasn't strictly necessary for her, she never thought to find herself a spot to lie down, but tonight, she can be found curled on the ground in front of one of the graves, sleeping deeper than she ever had. Floating and drifting along the waves of unconsciousness, she thinks that she is waking up and opens her eyes to find not the rows of luminous flowers, not the graves, nor the workshop, but a town.

She finds herself standing in the middle of an eerily quiet and empty street. With the hunter’s dream being all that she has ever known, she cannot even begin to surmise where she must be. The blood sloshes thickly around her ankles the moment she takes a step forward, drawing her attention downward, and then the tug at her skirt pulls her immediately from wondering where the blood is coming from. There are corpses... everywhere.

Calmly, she pulls her skirt away from the frail, decrepit hand of the living corpse and backs away, only to nearly stumble into more. She turns, deciding to move a bit quicker, sloshing through the blood and stepping over limbs and bodies, pulling up her skirt and petticoat to keep it from getting snagged or grabbed again. Soon thereafter, she comes upon someone; a woman standing at exactly her height and staring out at the corroded-looking sun in the sky. The warning she gives earns her a soft “Thank you, I understand,” in response before she steps nearer.

There’s a pang in her chest, one that mirrors the strange flashes of memories she has felt in the past, but on a grander scale. A connection that she does not comprehend. The woman's voice sounds strikingly similar to... her own. And also: ]

You are a Hunter, are you not? Tell me... Is this your nightmare?