one day, you will understand. but that day is not today.

[thepull_mods]

Who: Siren's Port
When: The night of Thursday, October 20th into the morning of Friday, October 21st.
Where: In the mind, in the dreams, in the unconscious of the sleepers.
Summary: The final night.
Warnings: These dreams may be considered not safe for work, with violence, gore, death, underlying sexual themes and other mentions of graphic nature.

Comments

Open for action/NV later in the day

[beenwaitinglong]

Diego woke up choking. He flew upright in a panic, nearly tumbling out of bed as his hands clutched at his throat. He could taste it again-- bitter coffee and sour bile lurching its way out of his stomach. He stumbled to his feet and into the bathroom, slamming hard into the counter just in time to vomit into the sink.

He was trembling so much he could barely stay standing, sweaty palms clutching the side of the counter as he finished retching. He coughed feebly, inhaling a strained gasp for breath and sinking down onto the cold tile floor, hugging his arms over his chest and leaning against the counter.

A dream. It was just a dream, just another of those goddamned nightmares. Chaos and blood and horror had been the theme this week, but there was no doubt in his mind that nightmare had been his own. It was still vivid-- the soreness where the IVs had entered his arm, the sight of skull fragments and blood in Mia's hair, the weight of her corpse crawling on top of him, the taste of poison. He could still taste it in his mouth and

open action for the boarding house

[meowsoleum]

[Rose woke up in bed with sweat dripping from her face, sheets thrown down towards the end of the bed and her eyes wide. Her heart was beating rapidly as she sat up, staring out into the dark of her room. Unbiddingly, a single word dropped from her open mouth.]

Mom...?

[No. It couldn't have been. The young seer shook her head, raising a hand to it as she wiped sweat away before standing from her bed, nightgown falling around her legs. She needed to make sense of all this, and the best way to do so was over a cup of tea. Sneaking out of her door and down the stairs, doing her best not to disturb anyone, Rose entered the kitchen.]

[frogst]

[ Jade hasn't been affected by the nightmares, yet, whether because she hasn't yet gone to sleep or because she's been passed over altogether is unclear. What is clear is that she's already up at this hour of the night, helping herself to a midnight snack in the kitchen when Rose enters. ]

Rose? [ The slight smile on her face fades when she notices the condition the other girl is in. ] Are you okay? Are you sick?

[tinderfoot]

[Tyrell was still sitting in the kitchen when the girl walked in; he hadn't been up to yet as the nightmares of the past few days had been bothering far more than he had let on. There was a surprisingly serious expression on his face as he lay slumped across the table, fingers tapping against a recently empty plate -- when sleeping wasn't option, food was always the best alternative.

When he heard the movement in the kitchen, he lifted his head just slightly to look at whoever it was who had come to join him.]

Couldn't sleep?

hope this is ok ;;

[stoicloyalty]

[ It has been several nights of the same subconscious torture, the same gatherings over shared misery and sleeplessness, and yet Chane hopes that there will be nobody in the kitchen-- the one place residents will gather-- when she has her weakest moments. She does not want to disturb anybody or discuss the content of the dreams; she does not want to remain alone. It's a terrible conflict.

Since after midnight she has stayed in the kitchen, her chair moved into the corner closest to the window, cradling the same mug of tea for hours (since now, days after the drowning dream, the sensation of liquid at her lips no longer feels deathly), gently slipping between asleep and awake, ignoring any other residents who came in. She just wants to sleep where there is a kettle, and where there are other people, even if she does not engage with them. At the sound of the door opening and Tyrell speaking, however, she does not stir, still deeply asleep with her head rested on her knees, legs tucked up onto her seat. ]

[Reaction, optional open to housemates + NV calls]

[lockandkeyblade]

[When Sora wakes from his nightmare, it's not with a scream or with a jerk. It's the way he wakes from most nightmares: quietly and in the dark.]

[Can't turn on the light. Can't wake Riku and Kairi. Can't sleep either.]

[He doesn't know why he's so worked up. Restless. It's just a dumb dream. Like everybody else's. He... isn't the only one who's seen heartless, or even had a nightmare about the darkness. Not like they could tell it was him from just that, right?]

[But he does feel around blindly for his NV takes a little too long and turns it on to check for messages. He doesn't need to turn on the lamp, and just stubbornly draws up his knees up onto the couch where he's sleeping. He'll make it through the dark like he usually does. With a little light. It'll be enough. ]

[walkthedawn]

[But Riku wakes up anyway, sitting up with a start from the dreams. The Keyblades, the fighting... Sora. He knows. He slips out of bed and goes to look for him. He threads a hand through his hair and tries to fix it back, but he doesn't much care what he looks like right now.

He just wants to be sure he's okay.

He pads out into the living room, nearly tripping over Ebony in the process. He doesn't need a light to see, but Sora's NV light is of some help.]

Sora.

[Riku frowns, going towards his friend.]

You okay?

[lockandkeyblade]

[Despite the noises, Sora's head still jerks up from the NV when Riku comes in, pale white light illuminating a startled teenager.]

Riku.

[He takes him a moment to recover and respond to the question, but when he does, it's supposed to be an easygoing smile.]

Yeah - Course I am. Why wouldn't I be?

[walkthedawn]

I don't know. Seems like this past week's been full of nightmares for everyone.

[He's not dumb, Sora. But he knows it's also not...really comfortable to talk about your own dreams. He hadn't been sure if Xemnas' was his or not. He sits on the sofa beside him.]

[Reaction - Open for Anyone Living with Him]

[silverlunettes]

[Reim awakens with a start, his eyes shooting open to stare at the familiar ceiling, yet blurred and seemingly bare. First there's nightmares all week, and now this, a mutation of one of his own. Reim sighed and sat up, reaching for his glasses, settling on the side table next to him. Once they were on, he left his room, immediately greeted by his dog, sitting outside. Concerned, no doubt.]

[break_xerxes]

[Your startled wakening does not go unnoticed, Reim, for the pale man laying sleeplessly in the bed across the hall from you has been awake for some time. Dressed in a long off white nightgown with matching bed hat, holding a candle just inside the doorway to his room.]

...Reim?

[He's heard you gasping and whining all night long, he's been having his own nightmares too lately.]

Can't sleep?

[silverlunettes]

[Reim jerks up to look at him, the surprise clear on his face.]

Ah- [The surprise drains to a rather saddened frown.] No, I can't. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.

[break_xerxes]

[The surprise couldn't be seen, but Break knew Reim well enough to know he'd look startled.]

You didn't wake me ... I ... had a rather disturbing dream.

[His free hand came feeling out infront of him, for Reim.]

Reaction; open for logging, action, or for NV responses

[isitablurred]

"Lara."

The word was on his lips when he woke, a mantra, a shout - his mother's name - and Clark rose from his sleep, his fingers so deep in the mattress that they had ripped holes even through the dense fabric. Leaning forward he concentrated on stilling the thundering of his heart, closing his eyes tightly.

Dreams--he'd slept more tonight than he had any day previously, the toll of the days a weight bearing down on him. The dream... His own, and then others. Other dreams. The pearls, the bells, the blood on his hands.

Mother. Mothers and more mothers, many of them dead. His own, and the woman lying in the dark, his hands on her face, the woman on the throne. Mother. Overwhelming. It was all just too much

[kingofrooks]

It was rather ironic, to come alive in the midst of dreams. To open his eyes to not know if reality was reality again. Bruce had stumbled and nearly sprained his wrist on the floor that he had fallen against. He was in a safehouse. Empty. Concrete under his hand, rough and cold. There was another echo here, from when he first came into this place

[isitablurred]

He was listening; perhaps harder than he had even realised, Clark was listening for the sound of his name, whether it came from someone within the port or without it. He longed to hear Jor-El's voice, soft and reassuring: "My son." Longed to hear Bruce's reassurance so hard that he almost heard it out loud; a whisper like a shout.

"Clark."

And he would place his hand reassuringly, just for a moment, on his shoulder, and everything would be alright. Somehow he would find the strength to continue.

Clark.

But that hadn't been a whisper from a ghost, from the past, that was real. It was a real voice, the echo of it still on his eardrums, and Clark focused, listening harder, listening to...listening to a heartbeat. A heartbeat. Bruce's heartbeat, distinct and unique and racing.

AliveAliveAliveAliveAliveThe city was a blur around him, or perhaps he was a blur. A newspaper stand was disturbed by his passing, and the owner hurled abuse at him even though the sound of his shouts wouldn't catch up until long after Clark had reached the

[kingofrooks]

His knees seemed plastered against the concrete flooring, and his breathing was so fast. He felt like a fool, so affected. Barely hearing the quiet beep of the lock opening. Password. There was something coming in- Bruce's instincts were still sharp enough that he could scramble for a batarang, throwing it at the intruder- no, no, wait. That had to be Clark, and his wrist twisted slightly and the black blade sank into the wall