ᴏɴᴇ ✄ something's wrong

[ghostpsychosis]

[[OOC: Warning's for slight violence.]]

[It was like a heartbeat. Each passing moment, heartbeats. The steady rhythmic thump that would normally seem so calming, especially when sleeping, was a sure sign something was wrong. Everything was quiet besides the thump-thump. Then a gun is being cocked. Bang. Shotgun. That's what it is.

Thump-thump. Heart

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[waterfell]

She's everywhere, but she's not Violet. She's an Asian girl instead, with dark hair and darker eyes and a sly smile - and of course, a school uniform. She never seems to quite look directly at him, face always hidden in profile at best.

She's there in the school hallway, where she traces a finger down her face, as if to draw attention to the blood on Tate's. She's there in the library, sitting on a table next to the one he looks under - surprise! not Violet.

She's in the basement. She holds out her hands as if to catch the ball.

[ghostpsychosis]

Tate looks at the girl, frowning. Who was she, and why was she in his dream? Purposefully, he drops the ball to the floor, glaring at her. She didn't belong here.

"Why are you here?" His voice is soft, but harsh. He's feeling rather defensive, which is understandable, considering a girl he's never met in his life is standing right in front of him.

[waterfell]

"Who knows?" In that breezy, airy tone, it might be a true admission of futility, or it might simply be enjoying hiding it from him. Her lips quirk upward as the ball rolls away across the floor.

"You should greet a guest properly," she tells Tate.

[ghostpsychosis]

Tate practically sneers at her tone. He takes a defensive step towards her, but he's not entirely sure what he should do. He's killed a girl before, but he didn't know her. He didn't know this girl, either. Dreams were dreams. It's not like she was real.

"Why are you here?" He's repeating himself, and his voice is louder, taking up more of the room. He may be thin, but with a straight posture and a set glare, he's threatening.

[waterfell]

She eyes him for a moment, still calmly. The temperature in the room drops sharply. Ice starts to form along the walls. It's a warning of her own.

"I didn't come here to attack you," she says, "However, if you keep going with this foolishness, you'll be hurt."

And it certainly gets him no answer. She is not some human to be trifled with, and certainly not his subordinate.

"Ask me properly and I'll consider answering you."

[ghostpsychosis]

He doesn't notice the temperature change, and he really doesn't care. He is a little curious about the ice, but for now, he doesn't ask about it. "Bullshit." Naughty language coming from a homicidal boy, what a nice thing to hear. There are shifts in the shadows, of things. Of older spirits, wandering in the darkness. They'll close in on her if she gets too close. Or worse. He will.

"I don't care, you ungrateful bitch. Tell me why you're in my head."

[waterfell]

She's too used to tempers to take them personally, at least in someone she doesn't even know. She notes it, though, and notes the insult.

"What's to be grateful for?" she retorts. But as he seems disinclined to fight, she doesn't reach for her weapon. Instead, she glances towards the ceiling, as if the answer is there or, more likely, indicating the world they're in right now.

"You can call it a lie if you like," she doesn't anticipate being believed. "However, I was brought here by chance. The borders between worlds and dimensions are weakened here. In dreams."

[ghostpsychosis]

He takes a moment to process what she's said. He's seen things, he's done so, so many things that shouldn't be written down or talked about, and if what she was saying was true -- this was a huge, interconnected lucid dream. Swallowing, the shadows seem to shrink down.

"There are other people here? Not just you?" He shakes his head, brow furrowing in disbelief. "No. No." He already had people in his head. He already had visions. He didn't need this.

[waterfell]

"There are plenty of others." Some of the facetious attitude starts to drop as she shifts to simply explaining. "Each of those dreams connects to the dreams of the others. It's something that shouldn't be able to happen, but we know it's true when we awake."

[ghostpsychosis]

He's hoping he's home once again when he wakes up. Unlikely, though, but he'll pull whatever he has to to make it true. Tate thought he was done with this, with these...things. Maybe he could be good.

"Do you have anything else that could be useful?"

[waterfell]

Now he was starting to understand: He couldn't afford to disregard her presence, because she was his best chance at information. Indispensable. She likes that.

"Does it matter?" she asks reasonably. "When you wake up, you can decide it has no meaning at all."

This is a trick she's never managed as neatly as she pretends, but it's a valid option nonetheless, logically.

[ghostpsychosis]

"Liar." He's calling her out on it, simply because he's had to deal with a liar for most of his life, and liars all around him. He hated that. Though there's a chance that she's telling the truth, Tate isn't taking any chances, especially with her attitude towards him in the beginning.

[waterfell]

She seems quite undisturbed. She's been called much worse than a liar before. Besides, she tells herself, she knows the truth for herself. She doesn't need for it to be believed.

"Ohh?" She deliberately relates his words to the immediate context instead of her news as a whole. "You can't even decide for yourself what to believe about your dreams? You just accept them without thinking?"

[ghostpsychosis]

"No, because they do mean something. Something like this has never happened before. You're different. You shouldn't exist in my head, but you do. Explain that to me. None of that 'know it when we're awake' crap."

He's definitely being more forceful this time, and it's on purpose. Tate really doesn't want to let her have her way -- especially since she's being so annoying about the whole situation. If what she was saying was true, and there were others out there, he was hoping there were others that had better conversational skills. Not like he was one of them, but it would be more useful to get information from someone who was willing to give it. Powerplay. He hated this part.

[waterfell]

Conversational skills were never the strong point of the girl who buried herself in books, and then in darkness. Overlooked, never thought of.

Being a thorn in someone's side is better, far better, than being nothing. She decided that a long time ago. Besides, if she wants the feeling of 'friendship', well, human minds are easily manipulated by power. She has plenty of that.

Right now, she's half amused that he keeps trying. She supposes the determination should be considered admirable.

"I've already said it. My answer won't change." She's almost used to the strange shifting of worlds, and now the dream world, by now. But she doesn't plan to make him believe in it.

[ghostpsychosis]

"What's wrong with you?" It's not so much of an accusatory question as it is an actual question. He's beginning to believe whoever is in his head has some kind of problem, because hey, that's how it's been in the past. He'll save the real questions for someone who's a little more clear and less defensive.

He's beginning to falter with what to believe, though, and that's why he's so disturbed. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he's staring directly at her, but he's thinking of a way to just get out. He can't stand it. He wants to wake up.