Action: but you never tire of dreams

[ofthebeast]

Characters: Any willing dreamers
Open? Yes
Where: In your minds
When: After the party
What: Part two of the dream plot!
Warnings:


The party went on, with the beast's head on display. A proud, twisted thing. Behind false ruby eyes, it waited. And as the music became slower and the wine less plentiful, it waited still.

Those who had gazed upon it at the ball. Those who had seen it once living in the forest. All heroes who dared to look upon its face and dream still that they would be able to live another day...

There are all sorts of ways of living. In waking. In sleep. Perhaps, now, they would find one in between.

(ooc: Feel free to keep tagging into the party post! Once your characters go home and go to sleep of their own accord, that is when the dreaming will begin. Remember, it is up to you to set up what kind of world your character is trapped in and how best to help them. Plotting post is here, make use of it!

The beast's power will wane once the bulk of the dreamers have escaped his curse. If your character was not at the party but you still want to involve them in the dream plot, that is fine! They can either help get people out or have seen the beast wandering in the woods before it was killed and have caught its attention that way.

Comments

[ladysarmour]

She feels Sif's approach in the tread of supple leather over tree roots and dead leaves. This is a forest of bones arrayed in a cage around Sansa's heart. Beside her sits a man, tall, solemn, dark and pale. His hands rest on his knees and he has his eyes closed in prayer.

Sansa does not rise, does not turn to greet Sif, her gaze locked on the haunting face carved into the bone-white heart tree. But Lady acknowledges Sif's presence, approaching to sniff at her hand and give it a brief lick before returning to Sansa's side. A breeze shifts Sansa's hair, the same as the lady of the castle's, more Tully than Stark. "The Northmen believe these weirwood trees are their gods," Sansa says. "Will you sit and pray with me, Lady Sif?"

[brosif]

Sif does not believe in Gods -- belief is something she has long since set aside in favor of knowing. She knows what the path to Valhalla is carved in, knows that her ancestors wait in those halls. She is glad to pay price for it, proud to live and die for Asgard.

Belief is a mortal thing. But she looks at the face in the tree, and is reminded that there is still power in it.

She sits by Sansa's side, gentle in her movements. There is a quiet to this place that suits the both of them.

"I admit that I have never prayed. What is it that you pray for, princess?"

[ladysarmour]

Sansa, for her part, has always believed, but in the Seven who are One. Yet here she prays to her father's gods, the gods of the cold, sparse land of her home. If there is any wolf inside of her, it howls to the great cold wilds.

The title makes her flinch inside. "I pray for home." Her dreams, once so vast and grand, have grown smaller.

[brosif]

“A home that no longer stands.”

It is not a question. Every part of the girl: her manner, her courtesy – they speak to someone without a home. Without a place to claim a sense of identity.

[ladysarmour]

"Sacked and burned to the ground," she answers. A simple 'yes' will not suffice. "Those who once lived there, now all dead."

She turns to Sif then, and there is something in her gaze. Wariness, and a sort of melancholy wisdom. She let Sif come here, but that does not mean she'll leave. Where once trust was so quick and easy, now it is so very hard. "You've come this lonely way, my lady. What is it you want of me?"