Can you see me from your place? Are you watching over me? [Interactive Dream]
Who: Muraki and Dreamwalkers
Where: His Tokyo apartment, dream version
Style: Third
Status: Open!
Warning: The dream will involve mention of death and may shift to include violence and/or gore
Muraki sits at home, on the couch in what's a large apartment by Tokyo standards. The entire place is pristine, in carefully coordinated white and grey with just enough interesting touches here and there to keep the place from seeming too sterile. A glass of wine and a plate of food rest on the small table nearby; he's in the middle of his dinner. As he raises the glass to his lips and sips it, someone knocks on the door. Muraki frowns, but sets the glass down, stands up, and walks over to see who the guest is, given the odd hour of the night.
A policeman stands there, the look on his face that of a man who's given terrible news many times in his life and doesn't enjoy doing it again. "Dr. Muraki?"
"That would be me."
"I'm sorry to interrupt you, but there was an incident at the hospital tonight."
Those words are enough to make Muraki twitch lightly. What hospital? What sort of incident? "I assume it's not one of my patients, or I would have simply been called," he says, that calm in his voice more forced than usual.
The officer nods. "It's about Ukyou Sakuraiji and Oriya Mibu. Someone managed to sneak a gun into the hospital, forced open the door to the room where he was visiting her, and shot them both several times before vanishing."
If it were at all possible for a corpse-white man to get paler, it would happen now. Instead, Muraki grips the doorframe and forces himself to take slow, even breaths while the dream goes slightly out of focus and spins for a moment, copying the dizziness taking over him. "Are they-?"
"I'm sorry, Doctor, but they both died almost instantly from their injuries."
His knees visibly shake now and his grip on the door tightens while he tries not to collapse. For the first time in many years, genuine tears fill his eyes. Though Muraki doesn't see it, the look on the cop's face has grown sinister and he pulls a gun.
"Actually, I'm not sorry at all. Anyone who helped you commit or get away with your murders deserves to die right along with you."
What this man doesn't know is that, while Oriya was Muraki's most loyal friend and accomplice, Ukyou knew nothing and did nothing wrong. Her only crime was being Muraki's fiancée, the only person he'd ever love.
As soon as he raises his head, Muraki reaches for the gun, his world still spinning from the shock of that news, and the fake cop pulls the trigger.
[OOC: Participants can either help Muraki or help the cop. I can write this either way. After I go offline tonight, replies will be sporadic or nonexistent until Monday evening.]
Where: His Tokyo apartment, dream version
Style: Third
Status: Open!
Warning: The dream will involve mention of death and may shift to include violence and/or gore
Muraki sits at home, on the couch in what's a large apartment by Tokyo standards. The entire place is pristine, in carefully coordinated white and grey with just enough interesting touches here and there to keep the place from seeming too sterile. A glass of wine and a plate of food rest on the small table nearby; he's in the middle of his dinner. As he raises the glass to his lips and sips it, someone knocks on the door. Muraki frowns, but sets the glass down, stands up, and walks over to see who the guest is, given the odd hour of the night.
A policeman stands there, the look on his face that of a man who's given terrible news many times in his life and doesn't enjoy doing it again. "Dr. Muraki?"
"That would be me."
"I'm sorry to interrupt you, but there was an incident at the hospital tonight."
Those words are enough to make Muraki twitch lightly. What hospital? What sort of incident? "I assume it's not one of my patients, or I would have simply been called," he says, that calm in his voice more forced than usual.
The officer nods. "It's about Ukyou Sakuraiji and Oriya Mibu. Someone managed to sneak a gun into the hospital, forced open the door to the room where he was visiting her, and shot them both several times before vanishing."
If it were at all possible for a corpse-white man to get paler, it would happen now. Instead, Muraki grips the doorframe and forces himself to take slow, even breaths while the dream goes slightly out of focus and spins for a moment, copying the dizziness taking over him. "Are they-?"
"I'm sorry, Doctor, but they both died almost instantly from their injuries."
His knees visibly shake now and his grip on the door tightens while he tries not to collapse. For the first time in many years, genuine tears fill his eyes. Though Muraki doesn't see it, the look on the cop's face has grown sinister and he pulls a gun.
"Actually, I'm not sorry at all. Anyone who helped you commit or get away with your murders deserves to die right along with you."
What this man doesn't know is that, while Oriya was Muraki's most loyal friend and accomplice, Ukyou knew nothing and did nothing wrong. Her only crime was being Muraki's fiancée, the only person he'd ever love.
As soon as he raises his head, Muraki reaches for the gun, his world still spinning from the shock of that news, and the fake cop pulls the trigger.
[OOC: Participants can either help Muraki or help the cop. I can write this either way. After I go offline tonight, replies will be sporadic or nonexistent until Monday evening.]