very soon, the light will vanish. it will take with it all the hope and joy we've ever known.
Who: Siren's Port
When: The night of Tuesday, October 18th into the morning of Wednesday, October 19th.
Where: In the mind, in the dreams, in the unconscious of the sleepers.
Summary: --
Warnings: These dreams may be considered not safe for work, with violence, gore, death, underlying sexual themes and other mentions of graphic nature. Having them ( Read more... )
When: The night of Tuesday, October 18th into the morning of Wednesday, October 19th.
Where: In the mind, in the dreams, in the unconscious of the sleepers.
Summary: --
Warnings: These dreams may be considered not safe for work, with violence, gore, death, underlying sexual themes and other mentions of graphic nature. Having them ( Read more... )
Comments 452
Czeslaw had experienced Firo's dream, after all, and brief parts of others. Czes bites his lip and untangles himself from the blankets, shuffling into the kitchen of the condo to make himself tea.
He decides he'll leave the house today, needs the air, once the morning sirens go off. He'll go to the library, he decides.
He wants books on flying. He wants books that promise dreams of a better future.]
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Somewhere on the way to the library he makes it obvious that he's trailing Czes, slipping ahead to walk out of a side-street, or vanishing in a crowd, or waiting at traffic lights across the road. This conversation is going to happen, but if you take the chance you can choose where, kid. ]
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Seeing as Czeslaw doesn't have a choice, he'll try to make this situation come to a head on his own terms. Naturally, he could call Erik and ask to be picked up and deal with it that way, but assuming Claire hasn't read anything from the dream that's not true - there had been no violent intentions in it - he figures isn't in that much danger.
He finds a small restaurant and asks to be seated for two, placing his NV on his lap beneath the table, poised to make an emergency call if he has to. Until then, he sips at water with a little lemon slice, and appears unconcerned as he waits.]
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We coulda done this before, you know. [ Assuming Czeslaw understood before as the time he'd been declared off the hook, rather than as a rebuke for not setting up a brunch date sooner. ]
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Blood is fine. But not in a lingering, coagulated mess, and certainly not pulsing out of her in the dreams, nor slathered all over somebody taking that tone. Chane knows it is not her dream, which only feeds the distaste with which she replays the image of the Rail Tracer in her head. Back then, to her, he was a man. But to others, he appeared inhuman, didn't he?
She's connecting her NV to the network and to his channel the minute she wakes up, 6am, eyes bright but weary and the waves of her hair curling against her cheeks, kinked by her constant changes in sleeping position. It's probably too early but she will not wait. ]
Who was it?
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That would be Czeslaw Meyer. He's probably one of your father's old associates. [ That'll have to do until he's found the "private" button. Hopefully it's enough for her to understand that, despite appearances, it wasn't a child he tortured. ]
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She had travelled with an immortal and was unaware of it. Despite being utterly powerless against anything-- anyone-- of that constitution, it feels like a mistake on her behalf. An overlooked detail that should have been attended to. Previous mistakes aside, an immortal is here at the same time as her father. A threat. ]
How do you know?
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Eventually he breaks away, chuckling, and finds his coat. There's one person in the Port who could have had that point of view of him, and he’s about due for a meeting. ]
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He waits.
It doesn't stop.
He gets out of bed and quietly sneaks out of his room with all intentions of knocking on Axel's door to tell him to 'keep it down.' At least until he picks up on snippets of the conversation.
'could have lived without Radiant Garden... ...ng as I had my best friend... ...best friend ten years ago--Isa died the day Gard...
...both suffered; you were the one who insisted we do it alone...Sometimes, the heightened hearing of a Nobody was both a gift and a pain. This was the case of the latter ( ... )
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S'open.
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He hates how... Well, if he had to put a word to how Axel looks, he'd probably go with defeated. Either way, he hates seeing That Kind of Face on the people he cares about.]
Here.
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[Axel had forgotten Demyx could move that fast. He snaps his hands up instinctively, finding an ice cream bar shoved into them, and then glances sidelong at Demyx. His expression is drawn, tired, but that could just be because he hasn't been sleeping well. No one has.
[He stares at him a moment, then blinks at the ice cream as if startled it's there. Letting the bar sink into his lap, still wrapped, he lowers his eyes to the floor.]
Didn't mean to wake you.
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She had nightmares of the Infected before. Here and there. They weren't dreams she ever liked to have but she tried to deal with them and remember she was somewhere safe. It was easier after that. But now, and THAT? Now she had to remind herself all over again.
The producer sat against her backboard, trying to calm herself. The safety of gripping the pistol hidden in her nightstand was suddenly very tempting, but she mentally kept herself from it. Obviously the dreams weren't focused on her, but she wasn't stupid. She knew what one was about. It already reminded her too much of what she already didn't want to think about. Finally she got out of bed, walked into the kitchen, and turned the lights on.
It wasn't too early in the morning to make herself some coffee, right?
Eventually she would mull this over better in her head once. And, you know, not make it about her. Once she could freak out less about remembering what she didn't want to think about.]
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Oh, that's--Emma Frost, wasn't it?]
Hey.
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