[He's watching the whole event silently. No, he has not gone to sleep yet, even though he may need it soon. He'd never let himself get caught sleeping where he doesn't deem it safe, and this habit is allowing him to see every single thing in the network.
A boy fighting another just because his female partner had been killed... A young man? woman? being stabbed in the chest by a bare hand after seeing another woman killed... Yet another boy being beaten to death by his own kin... A man screaming at the top of his lungs...
All somewhat interesting, now that he's seen the nightmares of the others. But he focuses on this, because it's different. It's not bloody, it's not gruesome... It's simple, and straight to the point.]
Wake up. [He's not sure if she can hear him though.]
But it's -- [ she breaks off, cringing in on herself as she backs away from the hand she'd touched, face clouding over with a pain more than physical ]
[ She nods, but he'll have to be patient -- she's starting to fade out again, not that she can tell with her eyes squeezed shut.
God, it was even worse this time, that numbing cold and shocking seizures that were freezing her up before she lost all sense of where she was in the first place.
Death, it turns out, is a rather unpleasant fade to black. ]
[Loki manages to reach her room- but he has no barcode. He has another, less subtle way of entering though.
His armor clings to his arms, the clawed fingers allowing him to latch onto the groves of the door and crush the metal with a somewhat grating shriek. Metal is always so noisy.
Satisfied with the damage, he yanks the door off, and steps inside her own world.] It should end now, dreamer.
[ And she finds herself disembarking from the carriage. She hears him, but it's come from around that fateful corner -- and when she gets herself to bridge the distance around it she's not entirely sure Loki himself isn't the one she'll end up sentencing when trying to heal.
The voices accusing still speak their pieces, more vehemently this time. The clothing, strewn about, tears at her still. This had been her home, once, her village that had disappeared before she was eight, leaving her alone and fated to the life she'd lived since then.
She didn't want to feel that again. She wasn't ready to die, even if it was starting to lose some of its novelty.
Melodramatic way of saying that she bolted right around Loki when she saw the hole leading into the hall, giving him a wide berth just in case. She was fully clothed, but the power of the illusion...
She manages to speak once she's outside, peering back into the waiting barren town-scape, and the one person who did hold themselves barely steady. A bit belatedly, she says
( ... )
[ She knows that, somewhere she does. Not too far down, even, but the fear... ]
Right. [ She swallows, rubbing at her eyes. Her nerves are frayed. ] But... why do they have to feel so real? Why does it have to feel so cold and dark?
[ 'It' being dying, but hey. Her mind's balking on the subject. ]
Who knows. There's a power not even I know. [And compare to, as much as he hates admitting that fact.
He's itching to withdraw his armor, but he cant. He knows the girl will not mean him any harm, but he still cant be too lax around her. Who knows- this "power" of hers could affect him as well.
[ She lapses into thinking, which isn't half as lucid as it should be, with nightmares during the only rest she had gotten, and two cycles of a hell of her own creation...
A bit late, but she does manage to remember her manners. ]
A boy fighting another just because his female partner had been killed... A young man? woman? being stabbed in the chest by a bare hand after seeing another woman killed... Yet another boy being beaten to death by his own kin... A man screaming at the top of his lungs...
All somewhat interesting, now that he's seen the nightmares of the others. But he focuses on this, because it's different. It's not bloody, it's not gruesome... It's simple, and straight to the point.]
Wake up. [He's not sure if she can hear him though.]
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Wake up?
[ A moment before her hand touches down on the outstretched palm of the passenger. ]
I'm not sleeping.
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-- real. It's happened!
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God, it was even worse this time, that numbing cold and shocking seizures that were freezing her up before she lost all sense of where she was in the first place.
Death, it turns out, is a rather unpleasant fade to black. ]
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His armor clings to his arms, the clawed fingers allowing him to latch onto the groves of the door and crush the metal with a somewhat grating shriek. Metal is always so noisy.
Satisfied with the damage, he yanks the door off, and steps inside her own world.] It should end now, dreamer.
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The voices accusing still speak their pieces, more vehemently this time. The clothing, strewn about, tears at her still. This had been her home, once, her village that had disappeared before she was eight, leaving her alone and fated to the life she'd lived since then.
She didn't want to feel that again. She wasn't ready to die, even if it was starting to lose some of its novelty.
Melodramatic way of saying that she bolted right around Loki when she saw the hole leading into the hall, giving him a wide berth just in case. She was fully clothed, but the power of the illusion...
She manages to speak once she's outside, peering back into the waiting barren town-scape, and the one person who did hold themselves barely steady. A bit belatedly, she says ( ... )
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When they don't come, he picks up the scrap of metal that was once the door, and throws it inside.]
They will not come. But there's nothing to be afraid of. They are only tricks of the ship.
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Right. [ She swallows, rubbing at her eyes. Her nerves are frayed. ] But... why do they have to feel so real? Why does it have to feel so cold and dark?
[ 'It' being dying, but hey. Her mind's balking on the subject. ]
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He's itching to withdraw his armor, but he cant. He knows the girl will not mean him any harm, but he still cant be too lax around her. Who knows- this "power" of hers could affect him as well.
He turns to leave.]
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A bit late, but she does manage to remember her manners. ]
...Thank you.
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... Hm.
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