First dream: Add legs to the snake after you have finished drawing it
(Cut for slightly some creepy imagery--oh, and snakes)
OPEN TO ALL
You plant your feet, lest the wind push you over. For a brief moment, you're standing with the warmth of the sun on your back and the scent of a breeze through leaves over your face, before you spot her--Tomoe, smaller than she is in the sphere, younger, much sadder.
The scene freezes. It's like standing in a photograph where you and her are the only moving things. Even the warmth from the sun has crystallized into mere light and left the scene cold. She stares past you, not seeming to see you.
Still, she speaks, and since there is no one else there to hear, it must be to you. "He keeps walking away. Why is he always walking away?" She sounds lost, alone, confused.
There he is, when you turn around. A green flak jacket, long black hair, a flash of pale skin as he turns to smile that snakelike grin behind him. At you? At her? Hard to say.
And then everything is falling, spinning sickeningly into disorienting darkness until you strike something and land, hard. It's dark, and cold now, and the sensation of loneliness has changed. You're trapped now, in a wide, dark room, lit by some guttering, failing source. There are things all over the floor, which could be mistaken for cables or ropes until you realize some of them are moving.
Tomoe sits in the middle, her proper age now, clad in what might have once been a nice kimono, amidst all the snakes, with a teacup in front of her, full of some dark liquid. In fact, there's a whole proper set-up for a tea-ceremony, items here and there amidst scaly, slow-moving bodies. You move towards her, and the snake looped around her neck hisses at you, and then subsides. You are only a dream, after all.
She sighs, picks up the cup, and drinks, one large gulp. As some of the liquid spills and trickles down her chin and hands, you realize it's thicker and more viscous than tea, the ruby color of the blood hidden by the bad light.
Her eyes flick up at you, narrowed, staring. "Now look what you made me do," she whispers, before laughing. Still laughing (is it laughter? it sounds almost too hysterical) she pours out the rest of the cup in front of her, blood running down her fingers. The cup clatters to the stone floor.
When she stands, the snakes all around hiss into movement. A door that wasn't seen before flies open, harsh sunlight spilling into the room, dissolving the scene entire.
OPEN TO ALL
You plant your feet, lest the wind push you over. For a brief moment, you're standing with the warmth of the sun on your back and the scent of a breeze through leaves over your face, before you spot her--Tomoe, smaller than she is in the sphere, younger, much sadder.
The scene freezes. It's like standing in a photograph where you and her are the only moving things. Even the warmth from the sun has crystallized into mere light and left the scene cold. She stares past you, not seeming to see you.
Still, she speaks, and since there is no one else there to hear, it must be to you. "He keeps walking away. Why is he always walking away?" She sounds lost, alone, confused.
There he is, when you turn around. A green flak jacket, long black hair, a flash of pale skin as he turns to smile that snakelike grin behind him. At you? At her? Hard to say.
And then everything is falling, spinning sickeningly into disorienting darkness until you strike something and land, hard. It's dark, and cold now, and the sensation of loneliness has changed. You're trapped now, in a wide, dark room, lit by some guttering, failing source. There are things all over the floor, which could be mistaken for cables or ropes until you realize some of them are moving.
Tomoe sits in the middle, her proper age now, clad in what might have once been a nice kimono, amidst all the snakes, with a teacup in front of her, full of some dark liquid. In fact, there's a whole proper set-up for a tea-ceremony, items here and there amidst scaly, slow-moving bodies. You move towards her, and the snake looped around her neck hisses at you, and then subsides. You are only a dream, after all.
She sighs, picks up the cup, and drinks, one large gulp. As some of the liquid spills and trickles down her chin and hands, you realize it's thicker and more viscous than tea, the ruby color of the blood hidden by the bad light.
Her eyes flick up at you, narrowed, staring. "Now look what you made me do," she whispers, before laughing. Still laughing (is it laughter? it sounds almost too hysterical) she pours out the rest of the cup in front of her, blood running down her fingers. The cup clatters to the stone floor.
When she stands, the snakes all around hiss into movement. A door that wasn't seen before flies open, harsh sunlight spilling into the room, dissolving the scene entire.