o7
[Since mun is a wild, wild fail, this is going to be a post of all four dreams, one for each day. Feel free to knock in whenever you'd like.
The first dream is mundane, just Pendergast having tea in a perfectly pressed suit in a cafe somewhere on Bourbon Street. He reads through six or seven different newspapers as the excruciatingly mundane dream passes.
The second dream is a little more interesting. He's sitting against a stone wall at the end of an intricate maze of rooms underground somewhere, if anyone cares to walk through it, in a room where the walls are literally covered in weapons. His hand is against his stomach, and, as the dream goes on, he progressively bleeds more and more.
The third dream is another wildly mundane one. He's now sitting in a room with a broken window. Glass is strewn everywhere. The room is ridiculously plush, painted elegantly, furnished expensively. He looks dead, just sitting in a chair in the center of it all, staring at the floor.
The last dream is, most certainly, the worst. It's an African savanna somewhere, and he's in a bloody clearing surrounded by tall grasses and body parts. Quite obviously he's been crying, but his face is dead again, and he's fiddling with a beautiful star sapphire ring with one hand. There's a large gun beside him, where he sits, legs strewn out before him, and behind him is a dead lion and an almost grotesquely pristine head, with wide-open blue eyes, flecked with violet. His right arm, at the shoulder, is heavily bandaged but bleeding through. The sky is such a perfect blue, streaked with reds, and the sun is setting in the distance.]
The first dream is mundane, just Pendergast having tea in a perfectly pressed suit in a cafe somewhere on Bourbon Street. He reads through six or seven different newspapers as the excruciatingly mundane dream passes.
The second dream is a little more interesting. He's sitting against a stone wall at the end of an intricate maze of rooms underground somewhere, if anyone cares to walk through it, in a room where the walls are literally covered in weapons. His hand is against his stomach, and, as the dream goes on, he progressively bleeds more and more.
The third dream is another wildly mundane one. He's now sitting in a room with a broken window. Glass is strewn everywhere. The room is ridiculously plush, painted elegantly, furnished expensively. He looks dead, just sitting in a chair in the center of it all, staring at the floor.
The last dream is, most certainly, the worst. It's an African savanna somewhere, and he's in a bloody clearing surrounded by tall grasses and body parts. Quite obviously he's been crying, but his face is dead again, and he's fiddling with a beautiful star sapphire ring with one hand. There's a large gun beside him, where he sits, legs strewn out before him, and behind him is a dead lion and an almost grotesquely pristine head, with wide-open blue eyes, flecked with violet. His right arm, at the shoulder, is heavily bandaged but bleeding through. The sky is such a perfect blue, streaked with reds, and the sun is setting in the distance.]