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

[consultmybooks]

Something Sour
It's an ordinary enough cemetery. Night has fallen heavy and dark, the scattering of stars above doing little to chase away the mists that creep among the tombstones and crypts. Beyond the iron bars that surround the place, it's just possible to glimpse a town, or possible a village, or possibly just a cluster of buildings in flame.

The graveyard isn't entirely deserted. A few yards away are a cluster of people. They seem to be attending a funeral, their black clothes a cluster of deeper black against the night. All seated in rows, the mourners listen to a priest standing beside the empty, freshly dug grave. But his words seem muffled, indistinct, even nonscensical. None of the funeral attendants seem bothered by this, though.

And you probably aren't too far away to hear the pounding, as of fists on wood, and the shouting. Even this far away, it's probably easy to tell that the panicked voice and the desperate strikes are coming from the coffin.

((ooc: So, Giles is having a nightmare about his rather long standing "in between" status as far as living or dying stands. There are a couple of ways to wake him up from this - either you can convince him that, despite having died, he still has useful knowledge to contribute and can help people, even in small ways, or you can put him out of his misery and give him a real death.))

Something Sweet:
Here is a strange little village, a mishmash of a place. The architecture is primary inspired by England, but mixes of other places can be seen, including some not entirely familiar to Earth. Here is a town square, with people going about their business. There is a fountain in the center of the square, the water glittering in it arc in the mild spring sunlight. Off in the distance, up a tall hill beyond the town, sits a crumbling, worn stone castle that nevertheless carries an indefinable air of grandeur.

It is here in the village, sitting on the edge of the fountain, that Giles can be found. He has a guitar in hand, tuning the instrument and looking...well, peaceful. Occasionally, people who are more distinct than the rest call out greetings to him that he pauses to return. It's an unhurried, safe sort of day.

But occasionally, the scene flickers. In place of the peaceful little village is a large, circular room made all of metal. There's a door of heavy, immovable steel that can't be opened from this side, and a wall of one way glass. Giles stands in the middle of the room. Beside him are two others, a younger boy and a younger girl. They're both unconscious, and the girl is bleeding from a wound to her head.

((ooc: And this is Giles' good dream. Here, he has a family and all his friends and everyone is safe and there are no monsters. However, because that goes so deeply against what Giles knows the world to be, he's already fighting back a bit. The best way to wake him up from this one is to remind him, and keep reminding him, that this isn't how things are, and that things can't ever be this way. Reinforce his naturally grounded nature and reassure him of what's real, even if it's a depressing reality.))

[tatra]

The air is warm and dry. There is a garden, full of exotic plants and trees that offer shade from the harsh sun. A small decorative fountain burbles nearby. A band plays under a wide palm. The music sounds almost Turkish, if you're familiar with that sort of thing, but somehow different, unique. In front of the band is a small, circular paved area surrounded by flowers.

In the small circle is a little glass and bronze table. On the table is a beautiful, ornate tea set. There are glasses, one for each occupant of the chairs and one extra. The spare is for you. The tea is rich and sweet and not entirely like anything you've ever tasted before.

Around the table sit two red-haired, bronze skinned girls. One wears her hair up in a braid that falls down to her waist. The other, Tatra, wears her hair down to the ground. They laugh and smile and joke and tease each other, and the tea seems never to run out.

[ladysarmour]

Summer snows still fall in the North, even in a summer such as this. The long summer, the smallfolk have begun to call it, nearly twelve years long so far and still with no sign of autumn. Old Nan whispers tales of how a summer so tranquil can only bring the harshest of winters, one matched with summer in length. During such winters the nights grow long and cold enough to freeze a man to the marrow with a single gust of wind. During those winters things come awake, things nestled in the darkest and coldest places in the world, who no longer have the sun to fear.

She doesn't like those tales. She prefers the world of songs and stories, where summer always holds sway, knights gleam with greatness and valor, and a lady's radiance never diminishes. They're true, she tells herself. A true knight doesn't fear a little frozen water. A true lady never lets the bitter wind freeze her heart. "Winter is coming, child," Father often says in a voice soft with omen. Sometimes he is very sad, her father. She nods and smiles a wise, sad smile in return, for she hasn't the heart to tell him she disagrees. Always he is very dear, her lord father.

Winterfell thrives with summer activity: hammers ringing at forges, men hawking wares in the town market, the boys in the practice yard shouting as they play at their swords. Everywhere the grey wolf hangs or flies on a crisp white field.

[ ooc: Sansa's dream is like a maze, and Sansa is at its center. Your characters will be interacting with manifestations of her subconscious taking the form of people from her past, and Sansa will not be present; she's aware this isn't real, but she's afraid to leave because she knows her happiness here is an illusion and doesn't want to let it go. So think of it like Inception: Sansa's projections exist to keep her hidden from any intruders. The only way to free her from the dream is to earn a projection's (Sansa's) trust and convince it to lead the way to her. ]

[bittyfun]

There are shards, fragments, and Loki's mind stitches them together into a long continuum, an endless arc of perfection.

One of his rabbits gives birth. Several little ones, ugly and sticky and perfect.

Frigga's hand stroking his hair, resting on his shoulder.

A nap under a tree, curled in the roots.

An illusion-spell well-cast, so that Thor's ears look like they drift and flap away like a butterfly. Sif and the rest laugh themselves silly, and Loki patiently and happily endures Thor's indignant roughhousing: Give them back, Loki! And best of all, a fleeting little smile of amusement on Odin's face, as he turns away to hide it, before pronouncing Loki's discipline.

A night sneaking out of his room and onto Asgard's rooftops, to watch the stars. A few drifting clouds, and then snowflakes begin to fall, hushing the golden city.

Why would he ever leave?

[ Same mun as sorcerous, hi. Using this journal because of bittyself icons. Loki is dreaming he's a child, that he's in Asgard before anything complicated happens. In order to persuade him to leave, there are a couple routes. 1: to persuade him that there is joy in his future, too (this might not work), and 2: to remind him of his rage and make him break free to pursue it.

I'm not going to guarantee any of these threads will be successful. Loki can be a bit unpredictable. ]

[consultmybooks]

Eventually, the peace of the quiet is broken somewhat, by the sound of someone clambering up onto the rooftop nearby Loki. A child about his size is silhouetted by the stars, his progress hampered somewhat because one hand clutches a long stick with dogged determination.

When he finally makes his way onto the roof, the boy collapses in a heap, but his sigh is triumphant. Then he pushes himself up, snow already melting in his black hair, and sees Loki. The child beams, an open and happy smile.

"Hi!"

[shadedsunlight]

A playground sits in the center of a peaceful park filled with large green fields, trees lining walking paths, a small pond where ducks float about and fish, frogs, and turtles swim in the water. The sky is blue and clear, the sun shining, a light breeze providing some relief. It's no wonder people are out enjoying the beautiful day, walking dogs, having picnics on the grass, playing frisbee. In the playground, children climb play structures, swing on the swings, make their way across monkey bars or scale jungle gyms. Their parents watch from the benches on the side or play along with them. Strangely, the occasional person has a small set of feathered wings on their back. There's laughter everywhere, happiness and joy.

To the west looms a castle, large and magnificent, but not at all imposing. It's something right out of a fairy tale, though the details waver slightly whenever no one is looking. A tower might disappear, or perhaps the white marble turns to tan sandstone. The details are sketchy and somewhat forgotten, but there is always a castle.

Ginia herself can be found by the swingset, pushing a young girl with long brunette hair on the swings. She's smiling as she pushes the girl higher and higher, her own rich laughter joining the girl's.

Surrounding the park is a glass barrier. There are thin cracks here and there and a woman identical to Ginia prowling the perimeter.

((ooc; Ginia is dreaming about the life she's always wanted; peaceful, filled with happiness and laughter, her family still alive, and with a family of her own too.

To wake her up, she needs to be 1) reminded of the reality of her life, 2) convinced she can find happiness in her future, or 3) try to break down the glass barrier and let Alice out.))

[shiromadoushi]

Its familiar. The hallway, apartments with well known numbers, the huge lounge across the hall, the city view, the scamper of paws, the warmth of voice in the apartment and down the hall. Hearing his brothers in the living room talking about Duel Monsters, the familiar sound of swearing over foot ball in the lounge, the low barking of the dog that had started so small and gotten so big, the warmth of knowing who was just below his feel, and that if he only just reached out with a thought, his best friend would come curiously out to see him.

They were all there. They would always be there. No one would take them away, no one would take him away. This was his family. The friends he had spent almost three years with, forged tight friendships with, shared tragedy and victory with.

This was home. The dent in the stairwell, the yellow stain on the carpet, the lock on the door across the hall that looked like it led to a vault... The floor he knew almost every room of, had lived in two apartments of, full of every friend who had ever had met in that crazy place.

But some of the details were blurry. The voices had no sources, the footsteps were left by ghosts. Shadows lurked where they should be light, and the sounds flickered in and out of existence. But if he ignored it, if he held tight to what he wanted to be, what he needed to have be...

It would be real, wouldn't it...?

Something Sour - Feel free to ignore if Too Weird

[canistricari]

Somewhere in the world, something shifts. There is a shape, but it is not a shape. It is more like the idea of a shape, bright color, millions of eyes and billions of teeth sharp enough to cut the fabric of the world.

It sees, and it laughs.

WELL THIS ISN'T GOING TO WORK NOW IS IT

[canistricari]

Coyote's spirit self is more an idea than a thing. It radiates all the animalistic qualities that Coyote is unable to hide completely even in human form, and more. The only thing of any solid mass is the teeth - thousands upon thousands of teeth sharp enough to rip the earth itself in half.

The spirit thing finds itself twisting and turning wildly among the boys in the practice yard.

[canistricari]

When Loki's friends laugh, Coyote laughs along with them. He lingers in backgrounds and the corner of the eye, the teeth of this his truest form occasionally catching the light of Asgard.

[canistricari]

Coyote is nowhere and everyone at once. He weaves through the scene like a ribbon on the wind, laughing along with the others and occasionally at random bystander. His spirit form twists and billows and wanders wildly.

[canistricari]

From nowhere, a cutting voice calls out.

"How sweet!"

But then it hasn't come from nowhere. It has come from everywhere, and Coyote is everywhere. Next to every shadow, in the corner of his eye, a being with no true shape but billions of razor sharp teeth watches and laughs.

[shadedsunlight]

The girl on the swingset laughs as Coyote rushes past them. With all the fearlessness of a child, she launches herself off the swings as it hits its highest point. She stumbles slightly as she hits the barkdust covered ground, but laughs and goes to chase after the trickster god.

Her mother, while not at all concerned about her daughter throwing herself off the swings as it's a rite of passage every child must go through, is more concerned about the strange spirit.

"Tara, hold on!" Ginia calls out, running after her daughter.

[canistricari]

Coyote is, of course, entirely harmless when he wants to be. He twists and turns and spins, laughing all the while. He lets the child get close and flits away, like someone playing with a small cat.

[shadedsunlight]

Tara giggles as she runs after him, trying to catch him like she would a butterfly. Even Ginia relaxes slightly when she realizes there's no harm coming to her daughter. She stays close just in case something happens, but she lets the girl have her fun. This is a happy world, removed from all the violence so common in her home.

[canistricari]

He likes children. They are so pure, so open-minded. They know how to play. He seems to dance, and for a moment he almost seems like a million butterflies filling the air. But it's all an illusion. In this form Coyote is only an idea.

[for_that_i_run]

Eagle ‘woke up’ to find himself sitting under the shade of a tall tree. The air was warm and thick with the honey-like fragrance of spring flowers. All Eagle felt like doing was laying back and enjoying the cool breeze but when he moved to do just that he found his head resting upon a comforting arm instead of the trunk of the tree he had been expecting.
Lantis, of course. His friend and near constant companion since the matter of the Pillar System had been settled. Today he had been reduced to the role of ‘pillow’ it seemed.
Eagle had to turn and smile at him. His way of saying thanking Lantis for watching out for him while he slept.

“I must have taken a small nap.”

Lantis just gave him a look. Three hours wasn’t really small, but how could he complain when even Hikaru had fallen asleep while resting on his other arm?

This was magical. Feeling this well, being able to be with Lantis and Hikaru. It felt like there were no problems at all. Cephiro was safe, Autozam was safe, there was nothing that needed he needed to be concerned about. There was only this moment and he never wanted it to end.

[OOC: Just show Eagle this is a dream? Even if he doesn’t want to leave he is strong-willed enough to be able to do so when/if he finds out this is an illusion. ]

[shiromadoushi]

Bakura blinks, turning. "Hiruma-kun?" he calls, curious. Who else would have teeth like that? Not that Hiruma ever lurked in shadows... for long.

[shiromadoushi]

Cemeteries aren't anything unfamiliar for Bakura, doubly so when he's dreaming, so that he found himself in another one seems natural to him. There's trailing bandage so loosely wound around his still bleeding arm, the tattered edges fluttering in a breeze that doesn't exist as his bare feet pad through the cool grass.

There was the funeral. But where was he? There was only one coffin... Was it his this time? Morbidly curious, he drifted forward, moving through the crowd of mourners as if he were a ghost himself.

He slowed to a stop as he reached the coffin, hearing the sound from inside. "Someone in there...?"

[demonsintheoven]

It's a very domestic scene. A small kitchen, clean, tidy, and outdated, yet at the same time warm and inviting, despite the cheep metal of the drawers and cabinets. Snow herself is at the stove, looking the part of an 80s housewife herself, her normally frazzled appearance smoothed away and a seemingly genuine smile on her face as she looks out the window over the sink. The sun is shining, a warm breeze wafting in from the open window, the smell of pancakes sizzling on the griddle mixing with fresh cut grass, the sounds of children playing outside... perfect domestic bliss.

[greatsquirrelhunter]

The room is t iny and bare. Faolan, curled against one wall, seems to be far too lightly dressed but is barely shivering. Knees held to his chest, he stares at the only entrance to the room. It has been closed since he was thrown in and hasn't opened once,even to bring him food.

But at the base of the door, there is a flap that a puppy making himself small could get through. But changing takes longer and hurts ore every time he does it, and he's afraid to. The last time he changed, it hurt so much that he doesn't remember anything that happened when he was a wolf.

He scared. He's never been scared of being a wolf before, but even after not eating for Adams, he's too paralyzed by fear to attempt escape again.

[canistricari]

He laughs madly, that familiar barking, animal laugh.

"Try again~"

[canistricari]

Something slips under the door, something massive and bright and full of teeth. It flows across the floor like water and seems to fill up the room.

"Why so afraid, little cousin?"

[canistricari]

But there's something outside with her children, something laughing madly with sharp teeth that flicker in the sun. It runs and plays and laughs with the children. Coyote loves children. They're just so good at playing.

[canistricari]

Something enters the scene that most certainly does not belong. It is bright, and massive, and bears a billion teeth sharper than the mind can conceive. And it giggles madly.

"What a lovely scene!"