[OPEN] Everything's Going in Circles, Everyone's So Intense
Who: Agent Six, open
What: Six's nightmare in which he thinks everything he's lived and experienced has been nothing more than a dream.
Where: Inside Six's mind.
When: Late at night from April 14th to the end of metaplot. (Please specify the date!)
Warnings: Depressing. Also some threads might go into the territory of blood and violence depending on how they go, so putting up a preemptive warning.
Notes: Specific threads that I've discussed with people we can debate if they should go here or elsewhere. Just poke me if you want them to be here or separate logs. This is just a catch-all for Six's nightmares which, pretty much, all have the same general theme except for those specific ones I discussed with people. Have fun.
Visitors to this nightmare would probably be surprised to find themselves in a city. It was bustling and filled with people who hurried about but never seemed to be looking at anything in particular. They bumped into each other and any dreaming visitors but didn't seem to notice or care.
The signs of shops were blurred and scrambled, rendering them illegible. Not even the numbers of prices made any sense. However, details such as smells, sounds, and sights were intensified. Every little detail came out sharply as if demanding the observer's attention. Such an intense view of the world showed the cracks of the otherwise pleasant city. They created shadows over cheery storefronts, twisting them from inviting to foreboding.
In a nearby alley, a small, too-thin boy opened his dark brown eyes, looking about at the filth and squalor. For a moment, he simply stared, disoriented, at his surroundings. Hadn't he been older and sleeping in a real bed? He sat up slowly, barely noticing the hunger that never went away as he tried to recall the details. He'd been comfortable if not safe in a house full of people whose faces were already fading from his mind.
Oh. Another dream.
There was a brief flash of disappointment that this time the world he'd been in had been real. This latest one had been even more fantastic than the world he usually dreamed of: a place where simply wishing for an apple made it appear in your hand and it would be just as crisp and juicy as a newly-picked piece of fruit, a place where animals could talk and not all people were made of flesh, a place that one day could've become home.
The child squashed the disappointment, rubbing dirty hands over grubby cheeks to wipe away the few tears that had escaped. Crying wouldn't solve anything, after all. Besides, he couldn't waste precious water on tears.
He started to walk, periodically peeking into garbage bins for a bite to eat.
What: Six's nightmare in which he thinks everything he's lived and experienced has been nothing more than a dream.
Where: Inside Six's mind.
When: Late at night from April 14th to the end of metaplot. (Please specify the date!)
Warnings: Depressing. Also some threads might go into the territory of blood and violence depending on how they go, so putting up a preemptive warning.
Notes: Specific threads that I've discussed with people we can debate if they should go here or elsewhere. Just poke me if you want them to be here or separate logs. This is just a catch-all for Six's nightmares which, pretty much, all have the same general theme except for those specific ones I discussed with people. Have fun.
Visitors to this nightmare would probably be surprised to find themselves in a city. It was bustling and filled with people who hurried about but never seemed to be looking at anything in particular. They bumped into each other and any dreaming visitors but didn't seem to notice or care.
The signs of shops were blurred and scrambled, rendering them illegible. Not even the numbers of prices made any sense. However, details such as smells, sounds, and sights were intensified. Every little detail came out sharply as if demanding the observer's attention. Such an intense view of the world showed the cracks of the otherwise pleasant city. They created shadows over cheery storefronts, twisting them from inviting to foreboding.
In a nearby alley, a small, too-thin boy opened his dark brown eyes, looking about at the filth and squalor. For a moment, he simply stared, disoriented, at his surroundings. Hadn't he been older and sleeping in a real bed? He sat up slowly, barely noticing the hunger that never went away as he tried to recall the details. He'd been comfortable if not safe in a house full of people whose faces were already fading from his mind.
Oh. Another dream.
There was a brief flash of disappointment that this time the world he'd been in had been real. This latest one had been even more fantastic than the world he usually dreamed of: a place where simply wishing for an apple made it appear in your hand and it would be just as crisp and juicy as a newly-picked piece of fruit, a place where animals could talk and not all people were made of flesh, a place that one day could've become home.
The child squashed the disappointment, rubbing dirty hands over grubby cheeks to wipe away the few tears that had escaped. Crying wouldn't solve anything, after all. Besides, he couldn't waste precious water on tears.
He started to walk, periodically peeking into garbage bins for a bite to eat.