Dreamwalking

[stolethatkiss]

Who: Pip Bernadotte stolethatkiss, and possibly you?
What: Pip not being an asshole, dreamwalking?
When: During the event!
Where: In Pip's dreaaaams
Warnings: EXTREME WANGST, trauma trauma trauma, blood?, cry moar pip

Also I'm so sorry i post excessively with him as;dlksfs I PROMISE I'LL STOP SPAMMING THIS COMM WITH THIS ASSHOLE NEXT MONTH

Comments

jesus i said i wasn't going to log any more this month LOL

[withoutnobody]

Everyone has nightmares. Most of them gorge themselves on Darkness, reek of burning blood and bled fire, taste like ash and feel like sandpaper; most are horrible, ratty things that, instead, rub against you like a cat mewlingpawing for its master, wanting attention on its terms and not yours. The nightmares that sink into you and immerse you in fears, and no matter how much you sleep, you're still -- lethargic and afraid in the waking world.

Everyone has nightmares. Riku expects no one, human or otherwise (birdbrained, in the case of the man's soliloquy he was watching), to be spared from that.

But, normally, nightmares are things that are distant. If you stand, the cat can only rub at your ankles. If you don't look at the cuts, they'll only bleed so much (a watched kettle never steams, a mourned cut is always fresh -- or something like that).

It's probably the intimacy of Pip's dream that calls to Riku; blood and fire, stern gazes and the gunshot murders (mercies), are all things Riku has associated with Pip since their first meeting, felt in the shadows of his aura. The fear and sympathy that clamps down on his own chest in seeing him as a kid makes his stomach clench up in knots -- as if all of his insides were displaced.

He's always had a weakness for people who never created their own misery. They were the opposite of him, after all; he was one of those cruel kids with the balloon, back then.

Just waiting for something to pop and laughing all the while.

He puts his hand on the youth's shoulder as he turns, soaks his own hand and wristguard in sticky red paint. In a dream, he has trouble hiding his own intentions and expressions: a sharp blue gaze holds far more gentility and commiseration than it would on the shinysleek futurespace of Thor.

"Where are you going?"

LOL I'M SORRY if it helps i will be slow like molasses probably...!

[stolethatkiss]

The boy is on the verge of tears, his hands balled into tight fists, nails digging into coarse palms in an attempt to stop himself from letting himself cry-- he's gone through this already, he's been told all that he needs to be told, so there's really no point in crying anymore. But he's nine, for God's sake, and no nine year old is impervious to bullying, no matter how resigned he may be to the position.

On the Thor, Pip is twenty-nine, one of those green eyes missing but holding a lot more strength in his gaze than both of his child version's gaze combined. Awake, Pip has no problem laughing at his own expense. In his dream, or more specifically, in this dream, Pip doesn't even know what to come to terms with yet. It's all a blur of evens and death sentences that he's not sure if he'll live.

He feels the hand on his shoulder and flinches, but tries to hold steady. Maybe this is another boy trying to tease him, to feign sympathy and then push his face into the ground. Pip's not sure, so he glares with wavering eyes and holds his ground.

"It's none of your business."

RETURNED TENFOLD sob

[withoutnobody]

He doesn't know him. That shouldn't come as a shock; some foreign awareness when they both wake up will probably barely remember this, forgotten with each passing hour. But, for now, Riku is concerned, and he wants to help.

His hand tightens softly on his shoulder, but after what he's seen in that dream... there's nowhere left to go. That feeling Riku, too, knows. Nowhere left to run.

With his bravest smile, he kneels, holding his own ground to be eye level with him.

"Would you like to come with me?"

Through whisked portals, over bent trunks of trees by beaches, into snow-capped mountains full of flying yellow fish, through dark cities with tall skyscrapers and neon signs: these things all flishflash on the edges of the dream, ambiguously skirting the fringe.