183 Near Disasters
[New York City rarely lies in true darkness, and this is true of the city as Niko dreams it. The lights of Manhattan shine below him by the thousands. Millions more are aglow beyond the portion of the island visible through the tinted penthouse windows. Artificial illumination inverts the night sky, blocking the natural stars from view and creating modern constellations on Earth, shaped by skyscrapers and highrise apartment buildings.
Tonight the false starfield is broken by the snow piled on rooftops and at the sides of the streets. Dirt and pollution have stained the white crystals with dull greys and browns, but some of the pure fall remains to reflect light with enough brilliance to distract from the electric bulbs still burning in windows and along the sidewalks.
For a moment, a dark shape passes in front of one of the snow banks. Niko narrows his eyes in an attempt to bring the form into better focus despite the impossible distance. He's twenty-three stories up, too far away to make out features. Still, dreams are accommodating landscapes at times, and the figure resolves into the silhouette of a man. Then it doubles over, and in an instant the outline transforms into that of a large cat. The beast stops, turns to look up those twenty-three stories, and Niko can see the eyes, puppy-dog brown (that isn't right, his mind tells him, they should be yellow) and sleepy, the contented gaze of a well-cared-for pet.
Niko backs away from the window, disoriented, a dull, throbbing pain in his head.
"Are you all right?" someone asks from behind him. It takes a moment to place the voice and assign the owner a name.
"Just a headache," he says, his vision clearing to show him Promise, wearing a silk robe and pearls, reflected in the glass. She reaches for him, her hand pale against his olive skin when she touches his shoulder.
"Come to bed," she urges. "You're still healing."
There's something compelling in the way she speaks, and before he's aware that he's moved, his back is to the window, and he's standing with her at the edge of a large area rug dyed a red so deep it's almost black. Niko stiffens, tries to pull away. Her hand is still on his shoulder. She's stronger than he is; she holds him in place as the blood seeps from the edges of the rug to pool around their feet. He looks to his right, searching for eyes the color of heather. He finds them, but they aren't Promise's anymore. They're framed by dark hair that falls over a necklace of turquoise. The cat from the street below, the ccoa with the lazy eyes of a chupacabra, is crouched at the woman's feet, lapping at the blood.
"Don't fight me," Cherish tells him. "It will be over sooner if you don't."]
[ooc: Non-IC cut for spoilers. This dream is open to anyone. Please go here or message me if you'd like to visit another of Nik's nightmares (the flavors of the day are Auphe and troll). We can play that out in this post or in a post of your own!]
Tonight the false starfield is broken by the snow piled on rooftops and at the sides of the streets. Dirt and pollution have stained the white crystals with dull greys and browns, but some of the pure fall remains to reflect light with enough brilliance to distract from the electric bulbs still burning in windows and along the sidewalks.
For a moment, a dark shape passes in front of one of the snow banks. Niko narrows his eyes in an attempt to bring the form into better focus despite the impossible distance. He's twenty-three stories up, too far away to make out features. Still, dreams are accommodating landscapes at times, and the figure resolves into the silhouette of a man. Then it doubles over, and in an instant the outline transforms into that of a large cat. The beast stops, turns to look up those twenty-three stories, and Niko can see the eyes, puppy-dog brown (that isn't right, his mind tells him, they should be yellow) and sleepy, the contented gaze of a well-cared-for pet.
Niko backs away from the window, disoriented, a dull, throbbing pain in his head.
"Are you all right?" someone asks from behind him. It takes a moment to place the voice and assign the owner a name.
"Just a headache," he says, his vision clearing to show him Promise, wearing a silk robe and pearls, reflected in the glass. She reaches for him, her hand pale against his olive skin when she touches his shoulder.
"Come to bed," she urges. "You're still healing."
There's something compelling in the way she speaks, and before he's aware that he's moved, his back is to the window, and he's standing with her at the edge of a large area rug dyed a red so deep it's almost black. Niko stiffens, tries to pull away. Her hand is still on his shoulder. She's stronger than he is; she holds him in place as the blood seeps from the edges of the rug to pool around their feet. He looks to his right, searching for eyes the color of heather. He finds them, but they aren't Promise's anymore. They're framed by dark hair that falls over a necklace of turquoise. The cat from the street below, the ccoa with the lazy eyes of a chupacabra, is crouched at the woman's feet, lapping at the blood.
"Don't fight me," Cherish tells him. "It will be over sooner if you don't."]
[ooc: Non-IC cut for spoilers. This dream is open to anyone. Please go here or message me if you'd like to visit another of Nik's nightmares (the flavors of the day are Auphe and troll). We can play that out in this post or in a post of your own!]