Dreamscape Event

[dreams_are_mine]

Characters: Rhode Kamelot and OPEN
When: Every night March 6th through 12th
Where: Rhode's dreams
Rating: R+
Summary: Rhode dreams. You dream with her.

Comments

Touch the Rose

[dreams_are_mine]

You find yourself in a rose garden attached to a stately Victorian mansion. The sun is bright in a vivid blue sky, and white fluffy clouds form shapes and wisps as a lazy summer breeze cools the garden. It's a well tended garden, filled with all manner of roses and other flowers. There's a rose arch, a gazebo by a large, elegant fountain.

The path is cobbles, white, swept clean. It branches in several directions--towards the mansion, down towards a meadow and stream in the greater part of the estate grounds, and towards the gazebo and fountain.

A large, fluffy white dog with an amiable face and wagging tail waits patiently at your feet, ready to accompany you in any direction.

Monday night

[kyasdaughter]

What a beautiful day.

That's really all Katara can think about as she walks leisurely down the white cobble path, dressed in a modest green summer outfit and her hair pinned to the back of her head like a proper adult lady of the Earth Kingdom. Her hands are folded behind her, tucked into the small of her back as she walks.

The weather in Adstring was chilly, and she'd been so used to the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation at this point that the garden path was a welcome change. Why hadn't she come here sooner, again?

She calls gently for the dog, before heading to the gazebo, almost reverently dipping her hand into the water of the fountain as she passes it.

/GETS TO THIS FINALLY

[dreams_are_mine]

The dog barks happily and follows at Katara's heels, the beast coming up to about her hip. It seems well-mannered and trained, and its fur is groomed immaculately. It keeps pace with Katara, seemingly unalarmed at the the way the water from the fountain seems to cling to and follow the water bender

/FINALLY TAGS BACK

[kyasdaughter]

"Of course."

Katara (Rhode? Katara-Rhode?) smiles a little uneasily at the woman, the woman who is her mother but isn't, and simply takes her hand, because that's what she's supposed to be doing right now. She squeezes her fingers gently, casting a look over her shoulder to take one last look at the garden, as if trying to memorize the layout of it.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was out so long."

The Top Hat

[dreams_are_mine]

The hat is decorated with a grinning golden crescent moon and roses. While it seems rather jolly, there’s something oddly sinister about it. A foreboding aura.

A golden bell with the number 1 engraved on it hangs from the top crescent of the moon. The hat seems to repel you, you don’t want to touch it. There is something inherently evil about the decorative headpiece. Something very old and malevolent. Focusing on it makes even the single light seem dimmer.

[outsidewindows]

If there is one thing that does seem to draw Lucifer, it's Evil--his creation. He runs one finger over the satin brim, as if testing it for dust.

[dreams_are_mine]

The moon on the hat grows large, the empty smile widening as it shoots into the sky--the hat enlarges until it's a black dome, roses sprouting and growing in black thorny tangles along a moonlit road through endless night. The scene shift is brief, leaving Lucifer standing beneath the moon on the white road. Everything is just a little unreal, like a child's paper puppet display. If you squint hard you might swear you could see the strings holding the moon in the sky, and the creases where the cobblestones are actually parchment, the way everything is just a little flat and not quite three dimensional.

A man stands ahead of Lucifer on the road, he may seem familiar, for he is Lucifer, only he is not at all. Without knowing how, you know is name is Adam. His name is also Time. He's just as old as history, and there's an unbearable sadness in the set of his shoulders as he looks up at the sky. His back is to Lucifer, but he's tall and broad shouldered, in a neat Victorian dinner suit and coat, with a tall top hat that he places a hand

[outsidewindows]

Lucifer stares, his smile barely more than a quirk of his lips. He recognizes himself there--a version of himself, as there are millions throughout various dimensions.

But this one is special; this one, Adam, is not Lucifer exactly, but also a symbol of the first rebellion of mankind. And the last. Adam is not a man any longer.

He holds Rhode's gaze, and comes to her, shedding his vessel until he is as nondescript as the Thirteen figures, his wings finally visible as shadows outlined at times with lightning.

He looks at Adam with placid familiarity, rests one not-quite-real hand on Rhode's shoulder.

The Set of Bells

[dreams_are_mine]

The bells are each distinct.

The bells marked Two, Six, Seven, and Thirteen are intangible and impossible to touch.
The bell marked Three has a full moon and new moon motif. The side with the full moon is dark save for the moon, the side with the new moon is light again save for the circular black moon.
The bell marked Four is elegantly crafted, with fine, intricate engravings. It seems more expensive than the rest.
The bell marked Five is decorated with a stylized evil eye.
The bell marked Eight is cracked in half. It's a heavy, crudely made bell, with a lightning motif in the engravings.
The bell marked Nine is small and delicate, with fanciful engravings of children's rhymes that shift across the surface and change. Always dreamlike themes, sheep and clouds, cows jumping over moons, stars.
The bells marked Ten and Eleven are a matched set. They're decorated in mirror image of each other, with toy guns.
The bell marked Twelve is elegant and feminine, with an engraved panther.
The bell marked Fourteen is tarnished

First Night

[sleightofhearts]

In the way that dreams are, Tyki is only barely certain that he recognizes this room. The walls, the ceilings, the floor.... the table. He's seen it before, and yet, he can't quite remember where, how, or why. Not that he gives himself much time to really remember it at all. There are more important things to think about.

Like the bells.

It isn't difficult for him to understand what the bells mean, or what they represent. The fact that they are there at all makes him almost certain that this is his own dream. He rests his elbow on the arm of the chair he is sitting in, and massages the bridge of his nose.

He can't possibly be thinking about them so much that he's resorted to dreaming about them, has he? A moment later he glances up again. The way that the eighth bell is cracked in half bothers him - the sight of it yanks at his heart, as if trying to pull it down to the pit of his stomach - and he is rather put off at the way that three of the bells are impossible to touch. He doesn't need to reach out to know this; what Tyki can

[dreams_are_mine]

It may be a jarring transition, from table to a cliff, overlooking a coach on a road below. What might be even more jarring for Tyki is seeing himself standing there, shuffling a pack of cards, dressed up in his fancy clothes. Beside him is Rhode, carrying Lero, here eyes fixed on the prey below

[sleightofhearts]

Most certainly jarring. For a moment, Tyki almost doesn't recognize himself; his fingers curl in an anticipatory way, silently asking who the bloke is that gets to play these games - for they are the ~best kind~ of games - with Rhode. As soon as he fully recognizes who it is, however, he frowns. This isn't like any of his dreams. He can't recall ever dreaming about himself like this. It hasn't quite dawned on him that this may not be his dream after all, but he isn't quite in the right state of mind to think about that yet.

The Innocence erupts into a cloud of fine green dust and scatters in the wind, and Tyki closes his own fist; he's half-expecting to feel it in his own palm. When it isn't there, he opens his fist again and stares at the empty gloved hand. There's a brief moment where his breath catches in his throat at the nostalgic feeling of... freedom, good fucking God, freedom... and he finds himself choking on his own air

The Tea Cup

[dreams_are_mine]

Including the pattern there's not much remarkable about the tea cup. The tea inside smells incredibly enticing, tempting. Whatever fragrance would most appeal to you, this tea smells of it. It's just the perfect temperature, and it almost makes you salivate if you pick it up to smell it.

Take a sip.

[kill_joo_ded]

Killua wasn't quite sure what to make of it. It was like one of those dumb little girl tea parties. Except creepier. He almost expected to see evil stuffed animals surrounding him, but luckily he was spared that monstrosity.

The items littering the table were fairly boring for the difficult to please teenager, but as long as he was stuck here, he might as well make the best of it. He'd never been the most hesitant person to take what wasn't his, and it was with no thought at all that he reached for the tea cup, eyeing the top hat even as he did so.

"Weird," he muttered to himself before taking a sip.

[dreams_are_mine]

It tastes absolutely deliciously. Sinfully good. Tea shouldn't taste like liquid chocolate chip cookies. But as Killua takes a sip the table dissolves, leaving him in a chair alone in the circle of light. The hat hovers in front of him, before plopping onto his head, the black rose vines snaking down to hold him to the chair, thorns piercing skin.

Someone as strong as Killua shouldn't find them hard to break out of, but for some reason the vines are stronger than diamond, or possibly Killua's weakened. But the mild pain of the prickles is nothing he can't handle. A few scratches, not even a bother.

A whispering begins, not around Killua, but in his mind. A soft scratching at the back of his thoughts like a rat in the walls. At first an annoyance, but rapidly increasing to something maddening. Something wants inAnd there's a feeling that starts. It's incomparable to any physical sensation, because it is fear, longing, agony, malice. The deepest hate like a stone beneath Killua's heart, the blackest despair like a pit in his stomach.

I forgot to specify. Let's say Thursday. /fail

[kill_joo_ded]

The first thought that bulldozed through his head was, "Danger." The second was, "Too late."

He immediately began to struggle against the thorny bindings, shaking his head to buck the hat, completely unwilling to accept that he was trapped. Anything to get away, anything to get away. It was what he'd been taught from day one; never, ever get caught. The thorns drew blood, but he only pushed against them harder in his futile attempt to escape, ignoring all else even as the whispering began.

He barely heard it at first - too focused, too panicked, too frustrated. It wasn't long before those little whispers escalated in urgency, however, and any focus he may have had began to deteriorate. The only thing that kept him from shouting at the warring voices to shut up was the sudden urge to vomit.

Something. Something was in him. He didn't know how else to describe it. It was right there - in his brain, in his lungs, in his stomach, in his blood. All struggling had ceased by then, though even Killua wasn't sure when that had happened. Now

Leave the Party

[dreams_are_mine]

The darkness beyond the light of the table seems just like that darkness under the bed or in your closet when you were a child. There is something or someone out there, and it is watching you.

It's not your guardian angel.

Whatever lurks out in that darkness means you no good, and the only thing stopping it from eating you is that circle of light around your table.

There's a very good reason to fear the dark, and that darkness wants to teach you why.