[Thread] nightmare
Who: Dante (h3llblade) and Schuldig (dirtyrottenliar).
What: Schuldig gives Dante a nightmare.
When: Tonight.
Where: Dante's room, 18th floor.
Rating: PG-13?
Schuldig had put off revenge for three hours. With its blankets and its sofa and party games and movies and (most importantly) charming inhabitant, Aya's room was difficult to want to leave--but pranks could not go unreturned.
He had a history of unwarranted cruelty, but his internal severity guage had been broken for years. Other people's minds had been his sandboxes and playgrounds for too long; an acceptable amount of mental trauma to him was the tip of insanity for someone else.
A nightmare, he thought, was a perfectly good response to a prank.
The elevator doors slid open on the eighteenth floor, and he found Dante's room quickly. He gave a tentative mental poke--sleeping. Excellent. The door opened with no more than a soft 'click,' and he slipped just inside. Dante wasn't dreaming yet, but after a moment of prying into his past, searching out fears and memories, Schuldig plunged him into an artificial nightmare.
Dante groaned as his mind went active. It was his old house. Vergil was playing with cards in the kitchen, and Eva was laughing and singing. There was a knock at the door. Nonono, Dante thought - not his youthful mind, but his twenty-something mind told him what was coming next. She was going to die.
He got up in his child's body, going over to the door to open it. He screamed at himself as he did it - so did Eva - but he opened it and cried out as he was pushed aside.
He fell hard, and watched as the men ran after her. As she pushed Vergil behind her. They all had hoods but not faces. One of the men came up behind Vergil and took him, dragging him off. Dante pushed himself back into a corner.
Then all of a sudden, he wasn't the little kid in the corner. He looked and saw a kid in the corner, cowering for life. Eva was in front of him, being held by some of the men in hoods.
Instinct took over as Rebellion fell to his fingers, and a cruel smirk played on his lips. His brain screamed at him to stop but he didn't. He needed blood. The Devil needed blood.
He plunged his sword forward into her stomach. Her eyes widened - those pretty brown eyes stretched in shock and pain. The sword was wrenched back and blood covered it. Blood pooled beneath her as she fell dead on the floor.
Ignoring the kid in the corner, Dante led the men out of the room, licking the blood from the sword as he walked from the house.
Dante awoke with a start, tears streaming down his face and his whole body trembling. No....it couldn't be....
By the end of it Schuldig was leaning against the wall to support himself, eyes wide and unfocused, a very slight smile on his lips. Such violence. He brought his fingers up to his face and looked at them, conscious but uncaring of the slight rustle his shirt made. He could almost see the blood on his hands. He could almost taste it.
Suddenly he remembered Dante; his gaze flickered to the tear-streaked face of his victim. A thought pierced through his cold amusement: Dante certainly hadn't done anything to him that had made him cry, and yet here he was, doing things that he reserved only for toys and people he wanted to utterly destroy. Most nightmares were relatively harmless, but he had crafted one that was custom-made to hurt.
"Did it scare you?" he asked.
The blood was making him gag. He was going to throw up. The blood was melting away his skin, revealing the monster beneath. Nonononono. He couldn't have killed her - how? But the memory was clear. Or was it a memory? Was it a dream? everything was too real.
At the sound of someone's voice, Dante looked over to the other man, his eyes glinting like moonlight in their fear. He could cope with crying on his own, but crying in front of someone else was just poor taste. He fisted his hands too keep them from shaking. The words were quiet as he hid his eyes and hung his head.
"Get out."
Schuldig hesitated. He wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure what--his adrenalin was rushing from the nightmare; details were still flashing through his mind--and he didn't want to be shot for his indiscretion. For a moment he just looked at Dante, expressionless now, but finally he lowered his eyes and let himself out.
What: Schuldig gives Dante a nightmare.
When: Tonight.
Where: Dante's room, 18th floor.
Rating: PG-13?
Schuldig had put off revenge for three hours. With its blankets and its sofa and party games and movies and (most importantly) charming inhabitant, Aya's room was difficult to want to leave--but pranks could not go unreturned.
He had a history of unwarranted cruelty, but his internal severity guage had been broken for years. Other people's minds had been his sandboxes and playgrounds for too long; an acceptable amount of mental trauma to him was the tip of insanity for someone else.
A nightmare, he thought, was a perfectly good response to a prank.
The elevator doors slid open on the eighteenth floor, and he found Dante's room quickly. He gave a tentative mental poke--sleeping. Excellent. The door opened with no more than a soft 'click,' and he slipped just inside. Dante wasn't dreaming yet, but after a moment of prying into his past, searching out fears and memories, Schuldig plunged him into an artificial nightmare.
Dante groaned as his mind went active. It was his old house. Vergil was playing with cards in the kitchen, and Eva was laughing and singing. There was a knock at the door. Nonono, Dante thought - not his youthful mind, but his twenty-something mind told him what was coming next. She was going to die.
He got up in his child's body, going over to the door to open it. He screamed at himself as he did it - so did Eva - but he opened it and cried out as he was pushed aside.
He fell hard, and watched as the men ran after her. As she pushed Vergil behind her. They all had hoods but not faces. One of the men came up behind Vergil and took him, dragging him off. Dante pushed himself back into a corner.
Then all of a sudden, he wasn't the little kid in the corner. He looked and saw a kid in the corner, cowering for life. Eva was in front of him, being held by some of the men in hoods.
Instinct took over as Rebellion fell to his fingers, and a cruel smirk played on his lips. His brain screamed at him to stop but he didn't. He needed blood. The Devil needed blood.
He plunged his sword forward into her stomach. Her eyes widened - those pretty brown eyes stretched in shock and pain. The sword was wrenched back and blood covered it. Blood pooled beneath her as she fell dead on the floor.
Ignoring the kid in the corner, Dante led the men out of the room, licking the blood from the sword as he walked from the house.
Dante awoke with a start, tears streaming down his face and his whole body trembling. No....it couldn't be....
By the end of it Schuldig was leaning against the wall to support himself, eyes wide and unfocused, a very slight smile on his lips. Such violence. He brought his fingers up to his face and looked at them, conscious but uncaring of the slight rustle his shirt made. He could almost see the blood on his hands. He could almost taste it.
Suddenly he remembered Dante; his gaze flickered to the tear-streaked face of his victim. A thought pierced through his cold amusement: Dante certainly hadn't done anything to him that had made him cry, and yet here he was, doing things that he reserved only for toys and people he wanted to utterly destroy. Most nightmares were relatively harmless, but he had crafted one that was custom-made to hurt.
"Did it scare you?" he asked.
The blood was making him gag. He was going to throw up. The blood was melting away his skin, revealing the monster beneath. Nonononono. He couldn't have killed her - how? But the memory was clear. Or was it a memory? Was it a dream? everything was too real.
At the sound of someone's voice, Dante looked over to the other man, his eyes glinting like moonlight in their fear. He could cope with crying on his own, but crying in front of someone else was just poor taste. He fisted his hands too keep them from shaking. The words were quiet as he hid his eyes and hung his head.
"Get out."
Schuldig hesitated. He wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure what--his adrenalin was rushing from the nightmare; details were still flashing through his mind--and he didn't want to be shot for his indiscretion. For a moment he just looked at Dante, expressionless now, but finally he lowered his eyes and let himself out.