(no subject)
Who: The Stranger and Anyone in Purg
When: Late tonight
Where: Their beds and the Dreamscape/Dark Tower
Rating: PG-13 for gore/violence
Warnings: Gore, Violence, mind-screwing
Summary: A dream or nightmare comes to Purgatorium, sweeping over those who live there.
(Whether or not your character has this dream is entirely up to you. This is not a must thing. Like Voice, any interaction is entirely voluntary. No one has to do this. Feel free to post your characters reaction if you want, such as them waking up after the dream. During the dream, they cannot talk or act on their own besides looking around. In the dream, they will not see the other characters, only their little guide, such as Elena wouldn't know that Reno is having the same dream. If you want to post them waking up in comments, go for it! Any reaction is a good reaction! Thanks!)
"You..."
The voice was a whisper, barely there.
Everything was blurred then, all voices other than the one calling them becoming distant and tinny like badly received radio signals. The ground fell out from under their feet, falling down and yet it felt up at the same time, direction itself losing meaning. Their minds felt as if they might snap under the paradox of it all, a world within another and another and another.
Pain flared through their knees when they fell, dust swirling up and into their lungs in a foul and stale cloud. Instead of wherever they had been, they found themselves crouched in a dark hallway. Cracks ran through the water damaged and fire scorched hallway, chunks of the ceiling hanging by the smallest margin, looking ready to come down on them at any moment. Bare pipes were exposed beneath that, the metal rusted with water dripping out in a few places. The tile beneath their feet was broken up in places, a thin layer of a greasy and stinking ash overlaying it.
"You're not dead. If that's what you're wondering."
Sitting on a broken box that age-yellowed patient charts spilled out of was a small man, barely breaking five feet tall. Tangled white hair that had dust and ash caught in it hung around the man's face. When the little man looked up, most may have wished he hadn't. A cruel and deep cut went completely across the stranger's forehead, going back into his hair. Ugly, coarse black thread had been crudely stitched in an 'x' pattern over the slash to keep it closed, the edges shoved clumsily together. Faded blue eyes meet their own, set back in blackened hollows in the man's too thin face. The bones beneath were just a tad shy of bursting through the thin, sickly pale skin it seemed. His grey shapeless clothing hung on him, bringing to mind hospital scrubs.
"I am dead though if that's what else you're wondering."
The man slid off the box, a pair of dusty grey canvas shoes on his feet. "Who I am is not important. I'm just someone. What is important is that they're coming close again, the two or thousands. The Tower is trembling and ka... ka will have its way."
Whatever response they may have tried to make through their locked throat was ignored. He knew well enough.
The little man grinned, his cyanotic blue lips curving to show small white teeth in black gums beneath. "Ka like the wind."
The dead man smiled, full of sadness as he reached out to take their hands, holding to the sleeves of their nightgowns or sleep shirts. "The Beams are being laid and the low men are here already. Eternity in a grain of sand. Sora or the Heartless would say that the door is opening."
The dead man's cold fingers touched on their wrists, caressing where their pulse beat. The pads of his fingers touched lightly on the edge of their sleeves, clinging to material. "The Crimson King is on the other side. The Tower. He's trying to bring it down, seeking allies."
A sensation began to creep over them, invasive and spying. He turned away, pushing them backwards. For a moment, they could see a soaring black tower, outlined in an eternally setting sun. It seemed to soar into the skies forever, a field of roses around it. The next instant, they are awake. When they awake, they were in their beds or wherever they had fallen asleep. On their sleeves, where the stranger had touched the material, were burnt shadows of his fingers.
(Tomorrow, there will be a blue kite tail hanging the front of Shu-Ra. Not the whole kite, merely the tail. In front of Elena's house will be a hopscotch grid in purple chalk, much like a child might draw. On one side of it is a star, a comet on the other, both done in yellow chalk.)
When: Late tonight
Where: Their beds and the Dreamscape/Dark Tower
Rating: PG-13 for gore/violence
Warnings: Gore, Violence, mind-screwing
Summary: A dream or nightmare comes to Purgatorium, sweeping over those who live there.
(Whether or not your character has this dream is entirely up to you. This is not a must thing. Like Voice, any interaction is entirely voluntary. No one has to do this. Feel free to post your characters reaction if you want, such as them waking up after the dream. During the dream, they cannot talk or act on their own besides looking around. In the dream, they will not see the other characters, only their little guide, such as Elena wouldn't know that Reno is having the same dream. If you want to post them waking up in comments, go for it! Any reaction is a good reaction! Thanks!)
"You..."
The voice was a whisper, barely there.
Everything was blurred then, all voices other than the one calling them becoming distant and tinny like badly received radio signals. The ground fell out from under their feet, falling down and yet it felt up at the same time, direction itself losing meaning. Their minds felt as if they might snap under the paradox of it all, a world within another and another and another.
Pain flared through their knees when they fell, dust swirling up and into their lungs in a foul and stale cloud. Instead of wherever they had been, they found themselves crouched in a dark hallway. Cracks ran through the water damaged and fire scorched hallway, chunks of the ceiling hanging by the smallest margin, looking ready to come down on them at any moment. Bare pipes were exposed beneath that, the metal rusted with water dripping out in a few places. The tile beneath their feet was broken up in places, a thin layer of a greasy and stinking ash overlaying it.
"You're not dead. If that's what you're wondering."
Sitting on a broken box that age-yellowed patient charts spilled out of was a small man, barely breaking five feet tall. Tangled white hair that had dust and ash caught in it hung around the man's face. When the little man looked up, most may have wished he hadn't. A cruel and deep cut went completely across the stranger's forehead, going back into his hair. Ugly, coarse black thread had been crudely stitched in an 'x' pattern over the slash to keep it closed, the edges shoved clumsily together. Faded blue eyes meet their own, set back in blackened hollows in the man's too thin face. The bones beneath were just a tad shy of bursting through the thin, sickly pale skin it seemed. His grey shapeless clothing hung on him, bringing to mind hospital scrubs.
"I am dead though if that's what else you're wondering."
The man slid off the box, a pair of dusty grey canvas shoes on his feet. "Who I am is not important. I'm just someone. What is important is that they're coming close again, the two or thousands. The Tower is trembling and ka... ka will have its way."
Whatever response they may have tried to make through their locked throat was ignored. He knew well enough.
The little man grinned, his cyanotic blue lips curving to show small white teeth in black gums beneath. "Ka like the wind."
The dead man smiled, full of sadness as he reached out to take their hands, holding to the sleeves of their nightgowns or sleep shirts. "The Beams are being laid and the low men are here already. Eternity in a grain of sand. Sora or the Heartless would say that the door is opening."
The dead man's cold fingers touched on their wrists, caressing where their pulse beat. The pads of his fingers touched lightly on the edge of their sleeves, clinging to material. "The Crimson King is on the other side. The Tower. He's trying to bring it down, seeking allies."
A sensation began to creep over them, invasive and spying. He turned away, pushing them backwards. For a moment, they could see a soaring black tower, outlined in an eternally setting sun. It seemed to soar into the skies forever, a field of roses around it. The next instant, they are awake. When they awake, they were in their beds or wherever they had fallen asleep. On their sleeves, where the stranger had touched the material, were burnt shadows of his fingers.
(Tomorrow, there will be a blue kite tail hanging the front of Shu-Ra. Not the whole kite, merely the tail. In front of Elena's house will be a hopscotch grid in purple chalk, much like a child might draw. On one side of it is a star, a comet on the other, both done in yellow chalk.)