SLEEPING BEAUTIES: DREAM LOG

[yourkeepers]

Bewitched by the thorn's touch, you have been ensnared in the deepest of sleep. Fortunately for you, the world of Faerie doesn't end with the waking.

The world of your dreams is brighter now, more clear than you've ever witnessed it. You've been it before, you think, there fragments of yourself become reality. But now you are somehow more lucid in its presence, and it's more real - something you can reach out and touch.

You find yourself in this world, and you are not alone. Your dreams and those of other join at the edges, pulling into each other along similar threads.

And you are watched by something even greater.

Comments

[intothehedge]

"Because she's evil," is all she says at first, as if so much should be obvious. He frustration curbs quickly, though, as she sighs. "She's cruel, and she's a liar."

She seems to believe whatever she's saying, whether or not it's true.

[whitepawn]

Those descriptors certainly painted whoever this other being was in quite the negative light, "Those are strong words to use against another. What has she done to deserve such a horrid reputation?"

[intothehedge]

"It's not about what she's done, but what she will do..." she says, looking a little upset. "I've been charged with stopping her, and she's tried to hurt and kill me many times before."

[fuzzyduck]

The question makes her pause her steps for a second; suddenly, she feels the need to check. But no, she is unharmed, albeit sore.

"Yeah, I've been through worse," she finally replies - and then she adds, "Probably. Hey, got any idea where we are?"

[whitepawn]

Something in his chest aches over the way her voice shifts with urgency and her voice becomes distressed and he reaches out timidly with a hand to calm her without invading any further personal space.

"What will she do and just how do you plan on stopping her?" The latter question comes out as quickly as it came to mind, perhaps it wasn't his place to ask, but he can't help but wonder just what exactly stopping this other woman entailed.

[fuzzyduck]

Well, she definitely took a wrong turn somewhere.

Once the initial shock has passed, the Dog Girl runs too. She doesn't care where she's going, as long as it's not a warfield. Heck, the distressing quietude of the cloudy place would be very welcome right about now.

And so she bumps into someone else.

"Dude, get outta the way!" she roars, teeth bared.

Aww, I was hoping to have you all to myself :p ;)

[hand_of_courage]

He walks through the desert, a perpetual sandstorm raging around him as a spirit of one who had passed from the physical world spun and floated ahead of him. It was leading him through the storm to safety. That was it's purpose. He waked for hours, it felt like days. Perhaps it was. The spirit left him when the hazy forms of two thick wood posts came into view. He was only few feet from them when that happened, so furious was the raging storm.

It was gone as soon as he stepped through the markers. The wind was no more, completely calm, and the sun beat down on his shoulders. He was wearing too much for such a place. But he was made of wood and wood wouldn't burst into flames under the sun's gaze. So he walked on. And on. And on. For as long as he had spent in the raging storm, he spent trailing through the endless ocean of sand with nothing to guide him.

It was only when he began to despair for a guide that the vision of the trees came over the horizon. They gave him new hope and renewed strength and he picked up his pace, coming toward it at a run. The sun glinting off something gold at the oasis' edge told him a great treasure was waiting for him.

[fuzzyduck]

The Dog Girl doesn't remember going through a window, but that sure is where she's coming in from right now. She looks behind her. Are those beehives? Are those beehives on fire? Well, she's not going back the same way now.

What's in here, then?

Oh. Bees.

And a lighty person too, she supposes.

"What's up with all the goddamn bees?" she asks. Honey - is that honey? - leaks under her footpads. Gross.

[nosentimentalist]

Well, that's good. He gives a shrug at her question, glancing over their surroundings. No. Nothing but clouds and sky where the eye can see.

"Can't say I do. I mean, the obvious answer would be the sky, but if we are honestly actually standing on clouds, then I hardly think that is the case."

[nosentimentalist]

He sees what the other is doing, before staring down at the keys sticking through his chest. Haha, no, a garment like that wouldn't fit. He'd be destroying that thing just by wearing it, to be honest, and he shakes his head, a slight smirk on his face.

"Can't say that's my size." And then the offer. Tea. He's felt like he's drunk tea before, but when and where? Can he even drink tea, being what he is? He still bends down (awkwardly, it's not like his metallic nature makes him all that flexible) to pick up a cup, staring down at the dark liquid sliding back and forth in the cup.

"Tea party all to yourself, eh? Or are you waiting for someone in particular?"

[nosentimentalist]

"If we're dead, this is a really boring interpretation of the afterlife."

He does feel the other's guess has some sense to it, and he frowns. Honestly, a version of an afterlife like this...it wouldn't be too far off from what some people felt life after death was like. Winding, uncertain, never going anywhere...but he then shrugs, shaking off the thought. Hey, it's not like he's ever been to the world of the dead before.

"But no, I think we're still alive. I would remember dying, at least, I hope I would. What's the last thing you remember before coming here?"

[keepscalm]

Her words appeal to him in a way he can't quite explain; he hasn't really put much thought into the idea that he can call up rain at will, but she says it like it really is something worth being excited about. Powerful? Perhaps not compared to some of the other servants in the Keeper's house, but it's a power. And it's his.

"You're welcome here whenever you like," he invites, trying to sound more confident about the offer than he really feels. "Though I'm not certain I can call up a whole storm— just rain."

[nosentimentalist]

Honestly, the number of places that feel strangely familiar is growing for this typewriter. Which makes absolutely no sense. He's a typewriter, and not even waterproof- when in the world would he have ever been in an ocean?

But he shakes off the feeling, wondering how he's not currently being clogged with water at the moment. There's also the way of how he can actually swim, being made of metal and all. It takes him a good minute or so to figure it out, but he sort of tries his best to swim around, though it's awkward and not at all graceful.

And...oh. Here's a familiar face among the cuttlefish over there. He waves, hoping to get her attention.

"I'm guessing those are your friends."

[ex_maelstroms207]

"One can hope," he'd murmured, before his guest had helped himself to tea. Almost, he thought to offer his assistance, but only just—no matter how ungainly the motion, the other still had his pride to keep.

"And truth be told, I haven't the foggiest." Though reason stands to say that yes, yes he'd been waiting, but on whose account he hasn't a clue. The owner of the pink silk monstrosity, perhaps? The garment seems important, somehow, weighty in his hands.

"How did you happen upon this place?" And it is the Fariest's turn to ask the questions now, it seems. "You're not supposed to be here, are you?"

[peafowl]

The twins look up and instinctively shy away from Lights. He illuminates the sheer walls of the buildings, revealing the soot and blood stains and his light, after the gloom, is blinding. The blue peacock raises his hand to shield his eyes. The pink peacock covers her single good eye, leaving the glass one free to stare blindly at Lights.

"We're hiding, darling," the blue peacock says, crossly. "What does it look like?"

"Spirits are on their way," the pink peacock says, blankly. "I can bloody well tell."

[intothehedge]

[ooc: awesome c:]

"The same." Her smile doesn't change. "Exploring, I mean – this is new to me, too. Tell me, what are you hoping to find? Do you know what you're hoping to find?"

Re: OPEN

[peafowl]

The twins were walking on cracked cobblestones slick with blood one moment and on what felt like springy carpet the next. They look down at their feet, puzzled and the blue peacock keens in alarm, realising that they're standing on clouds. The pink peacock strides ahead, crunching glass under her dress shoes, towards Dog Girl. She taps her on the shoulder, to get her attention.

"Yo, is your dream structurally sound? Or are we gonna plummet?"

"Don't jinx it," her twin calls, from a few feet behind.

[fuzzyduck]

"Right. Standin' on clouds," she mumbles, as if she'd just forgotten that was precisely what was going on. "That's bullshit. Might as well... fuck, might as well be walkin' on the goddamn sun."

She stops abruptly. Crosses her arms. Her eyebrows furrow.

She snaps her fingers. "Dude, I think something's comin' back to me."

[fuzzyduck]

The girl flips around, startled enough to show off her teeth. After a second, though, her expression softens into a simple glare.

"You're not fallin' right now, are ya?"

[intothehedge]

He is not alone with his dream-images, but the woman who's joined him here is harder to notice than either of the imagined figures he has to contend with, keeping as she does to the edges of the room, to the shadows. Her own dark form, with its strange blue markings, almost matches the surroundings, but she does not belong here.

She is here all the same though. She watches, her black eyes gleaming, and for now she does not intervene.

[ovidscholar]

The library is a church. Or: the church is a library. A church became a library became this library and the books here-and-now mingle with the collection then-and-there. The librarian comes down from his roost, which is a pulpit and also a lectern. He is stepping into mud, at the edge of a lake.

"Stop," says a woman, "or you'll spread the mold. It's all over Dante."

"La Vita Nuova," he says, "oh, no." He bends and slips it off the shelf. It's shot through with vines. Poor Beatrice, wound with green and bloody thorns!

[creased]

"Not a good dream, huh? But yours must be nice." Still, the book can't imagine being trapped in a single dream for who-knows-how-long, even if it is as nice as this one. "But there were others, before? Were they like us? Are you? How did you get here?" She fires off the questions, watching the other woman eagerly.

[intothehedge]

"She feeds on others - preys on them. I've been stopping her from being able to hurt others, but if I'm here with you...then she could be with any of the others." She sighs. "And I want to stop her for good, more than anything, but it's...complicated."

[intothehedge]

"I think I'm like you," she says. "I must be. I'm a servant to the Keeper." She hesitates at the second part. "And...I don't think the others left, so much as I was separated from them. We were separated, and for good reason."

[intothehedge]

"I could feel you in the clouds, when I found this place," she says. "It was the first thing I noticed. You could do more than that here, with practice. I'm sure of it."