night mare event: fear
[TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR ADORABLENESS.]
The first thing you become aware of is fire. The oppressive heat, the haze in the air, the terrible reason for the fire - Father. You’re back in Father’s study again, with him gripping your arm and laughing as the demon consumes him, consumes everything that touches him. You know where you are, now, but there’s no way to get out, no matter how you scream and thrash.
It’s only a moment, but it feels like forever - watching as the flames light the barely visible face of your father, as they draw closer to scorching you yourself - you have burnt yourself before, and you can tell it’s not exactly like that, but it’s nerve-wracking all the same. How can it not be? But then the fires cease, simply disappear as though winked out of existence, and you’re alone. Terribly alone - the world is formless and black around you, as if reality itself decided it wanted to get away from you. The vastness of the abyss is disorienting.
The threat of the fire is gone, but now that it is, you’re left with no sensations, no company, neither friend nor danger. You could move, but to where would you go? True to form - you’ve always acted before you thought - you ignore this question for a moment as you try to escape this place. But it does no good - without any form, how is one spot different from another? What difference does it make?
There is nothing you can do.
There is nowhere you can go.
There is no one you can turn to.
Just as the loneliness, the emptiness, the nothingness becomes suffocating -
You wake up.
(Actually, you don’t. This dream is still continuing. But it seems what came before was a dream within a dream, as)
You’re in your bed now. The room is your childhood home, filled with your books and toys and your stuffed animal sitting on the pillow next to you. There’s a figure in the doorway, lit by a candle, and it comes closer to kneel beside your bed.
It’s possible that some people would consider the face before you as ugly, or even frightening. It is old, far older than any other you have ever seen, lined and pale and shaped without any fat in the cheeks, with a jagged nose and large ears. You have never thought it ugly, or frightening. It’s all you’ve ever known, and you have nothing in your heart but love and adoration for it. This is the face that has greeted you every morning - the face of the man that has cared for you, baked you treats and made you clothes, that has sung you to sleep, that has taught you everything you know. This face could never be something bad, because it is the face of your family.
The old man reaches over to stroke your hair, smiling gently with that old creased face.
“Meryl,” you warble - and you’re a small child again, you weren’t before but you are now, it doesn’t really make a difference - “Meryl, I had a bad dream…”
Meryl makes gentle shushing noises, comforting and understanding, as you knew he would. He leans in to wrap his arms around you and you nestle comfortably into his embrace.
“It’s alright, sweetness. I’m here. There is nothing to fear.”
You know that he is right, and you are comforted. He is always right, because he is your family.
You feel a kiss on your forehead, and he draws back. “Let me get you some juice. You stay here with your friend.”
- And suddenly you aren’t Med’an anymore - you’re you again, the viewer, sitting in the bed next to the small halfbreed. The old man leaves the room, leaving the candle on the bedside table, and the child Med’an snuggles into you. He seems unsurprised by your presence, as if you have always been here (and perhaps you have, haven’t you?) Although he is young again, he will know you if you speak to him, and he gives you a sleepy smile, as if hoping you're comforted as well.
[Hopefully the formatting of this makes sense - your character is now themselves in the dream, having experienced what Med'an did, and can interact with Med'an and the rest of the dream-world as you see fit.]
The first thing you become aware of is fire. The oppressive heat, the haze in the air, the terrible reason for the fire - Father. You’re back in Father’s study again, with him gripping your arm and laughing as the demon consumes him, consumes everything that touches him. You know where you are, now, but there’s no way to get out, no matter how you scream and thrash.
It’s only a moment, but it feels like forever - watching as the flames light the barely visible face of your father, as they draw closer to scorching you yourself - you have burnt yourself before, and you can tell it’s not exactly like that, but it’s nerve-wracking all the same. How can it not be? But then the fires cease, simply disappear as though winked out of existence, and you’re alone. Terribly alone - the world is formless and black around you, as if reality itself decided it wanted to get away from you. The vastness of the abyss is disorienting.
The threat of the fire is gone, but now that it is, you’re left with no sensations, no company, neither friend nor danger. You could move, but to where would you go? True to form - you’ve always acted before you thought - you ignore this question for a moment as you try to escape this place. But it does no good - without any form, how is one spot different from another? What difference does it make?
There is nothing you can do.
There is nowhere you can go.
There is no one you can turn to.
Just as the loneliness, the emptiness, the nothingness becomes suffocating -
You wake up.
(Actually, you don’t. This dream is still continuing. But it seems what came before was a dream within a dream, as)
You’re in your bed now. The room is your childhood home, filled with your books and toys and your stuffed animal sitting on the pillow next to you. There’s a figure in the doorway, lit by a candle, and it comes closer to kneel beside your bed.
It’s possible that some people would consider the face before you as ugly, or even frightening. It is old, far older than any other you have ever seen, lined and pale and shaped without any fat in the cheeks, with a jagged nose and large ears. You have never thought it ugly, or frightening. It’s all you’ve ever known, and you have nothing in your heart but love and adoration for it. This is the face that has greeted you every morning - the face of the man that has cared for you, baked you treats and made you clothes, that has sung you to sleep, that has taught you everything you know. This face could never be something bad, because it is the face of your family.
The old man reaches over to stroke your hair, smiling gently with that old creased face.
“Meryl,” you warble - and you’re a small child again, you weren’t before but you are now, it doesn’t really make a difference - “Meryl, I had a bad dream…”
Meryl makes gentle shushing noises, comforting and understanding, as you knew he would. He leans in to wrap his arms around you and you nestle comfortably into his embrace.
“It’s alright, sweetness. I’m here. There is nothing to fear.”
You know that he is right, and you are comforted. He is always right, because he is your family.
You feel a kiss on your forehead, and he draws back. “Let me get you some juice. You stay here with your friend.”
- And suddenly you aren’t Med’an anymore - you’re you again, the viewer, sitting in the bed next to the small halfbreed. The old man leaves the room, leaving the candle on the bedside table, and the child Med’an snuggles into you. He seems unsurprised by your presence, as if you have always been here (and perhaps you have, haven’t you?) Although he is young again, he will know you if you speak to him, and he gives you a sleepy smile, as if hoping you're comforted as well.
[Hopefully the formatting of this makes sense - your character is now themselves in the dream, having experienced what Med'an did, and can interact with Med'an and the rest of the dream-world as you see fit.]