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

[subtleserenity]

"Lot of unbalanced folk around here," Brimston says, no malice in the words, only detached observation. "Comes of havin' memories put in your head that don't make no sense. And hearin' things..."

Her ears pick up the faint scuffle of movement from down the corridor that she'd come. "Got a feelin' we ain't alone." She turns in the direction of the sound, rifle at the ready to follow it. It's a pointless endeavor, she knows, but she can't not go after it. There's someone watching. Whether they're real or not, she can feel it."

[magewarden]

His eyes widen as he watches her, rifle targeting the sound with seemingly no source. Instinctively, he wants her to put the weapon down, To stop any fighting. After all, an unseen person may not be a threat -- they might be friendly. Might be just as lost as they.

Yet, the rhyme cycles in his head over and over again.

Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate.

He doesn't know what it means, doesn't know why this is happening, but it makes his skin prickle like goose-flesh and he finds not the heart to tell her to stand down.

"Be careful," he says instead. "We know nothing of the rules of this realm."

[subtleserenity]

She nods briefly because a wise word of warning, even if unnecessary, should be heeded. "You might wanna try walkin' into another dream, Porcelain. Dangerous here for your sort." The noncombatant sort, she means.

[magewarden]

The fairest hesitates at that, some instinct deep down warring with the thread of fear pulling at him. He should not leave her, should stay and fight -- yet what skill has he? He is no weapon, he is a playmate. He is decoration.

"I know not how I came to be here," he says, "but I suppose if simple walking carried me here then it might carry me elsewhere. Are you sure you wish to stay here yourself?"

[subtleserenity]

Brimstone is still alert, senses trained toward the phantom sounds she hears beyond her line of sight, but she reaches out with her free hand and places it on the metal wall beside her. She can feel the small vibrations in the metal, a machine humming with life. Her life.

"Serenity's my home," she says, flicking her gaze over to him briefly before returning her hand to the grip of her rifle. "Ain't no place I'd rather stay myself."

Without waiting for a reply, she starts forward.

[magewarden]

He watches her a moment, brow flickering in confusion. Her home? Serenity? Does she this place?

She's determined though, and he only finds himself taking a step back. He's intruding. He shouldn't be here. This may be her home, but it definitely isn't his.

Maybe she is right, it would be better to walk and hope he finds himself elsewhere.

He nods after a moment, as much to himself as anything since she's already moved on, then slinks away into the shadows to try and find a safer placed -- or a way back to The Keeper, to Mason.