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[crittersheep]

WHO: all
WHERE: all
WHEN: Day 9, evening into night

[the sun goes down; the two moons rise.

it all looks...quite different. the laundromat lengthens and transforms the silhouette of Woolietown in the distance. the lighthouse beacon comes to life for the first time, throwing strong, brilliant light and stark shadows across the meadow and into the barns. the lazy river encircles the pasture in a glittering band, the bobbing shapes of the pool toys a little bit eerie until they drift into full view.

perhaps some of you are winding down. perhaps some of you are just gearing up for a wild adventure in the shadows. perhaps some of you, regardless of if you sleep or stay up, find your dreams and nightmares crawling out beyond the bounds of your own head tonight, drawing others in...

the night is full of possibilities.]

Comments

Nightmare Jams! (cw: death and graves and claustrophobic things lolz)

[ohlord]

[for as barren and dull as it is with sand, stone, and not much else, buildings that look like they're crumbling from being shot to hell and back and just from a general lack of wealthy maintenance--everything looks as though it's handcrafted and put together with hopes and prayers that it'll last just a little bit longer... this small village is pretty peaceful under the glaring desert sun.

there's a church's chapel making up the larger portion of the still standing walls of the area. a beaten and retired couch sitting amongst some rubble off to the side. the sand's covered the worst of the bloodstains that can still be spotted here and there painting the earth and cloth a rusty brown.

there's the sound of children playing somewhere within the church, happy and cheerful sounds as they go about their day. new adventures, a bright future ahead of them. but in the courtyard, a single handmade tombstone with a large cross looming over it sits quietly undisturbed.]

[endsjustified]

[oh it's going to be this again, huh.

Charon cuts an incongruous figure in this desert scene, dressed as he always is for late autumn or early winter, but he doesn't seem to feel the heat as he strides through the dream. he moves quietly out of the chapel and into the courtyard to observe the tombstone.]

[ohlord]

[quiet as the dead!

or, well. there might be a sound. but that could just be the wind. or the kids yelling.

it'd be weird if it was coming from a grave.]

[endsjustified]

[WHAT'S THE NOISE IF HE TAKES A KNEE BY THE GRAVE TO LISTEN MORE CLOSELY, JUDAS PRIEST]

[ohlord]

[AN EXCELLENT JAM--no i mean, it's actually the sound of metal scraping against stone]

[endsjustified]

[it's a dream; the small knife he takes from an inside pocket is not bone, but bright silver, and very old.

raps on the stone with the heavy hilt.]

[ohlord]

[it's a pretty thick slab of stone, chosen well.

the scraping stops.

everything's quiet for a long moment.





and then there's a muffled mimicking of the rapping pattern you just did.]

[endsjustified]

[sighs very deeply to himself -- of course -- then sees what he can do about pushing the stone off of the grave bodily.

it may not be a lot tbh. he is not, physically, all that strong, and there's not a lot here to create more leverage with.]

[ohlord]

[yeah, unfortunately, the gravedigger was very good at making sure it was secure and also, it wouldn't be a nightmare if it was that easy.

probably the reason why the person in the grave isn't screaming this time around. AFTER ENOUGH TIMES OF THIS PARTICULAR NIGHTMARE SCENARIO, YOU LEARN IT DOESN'T DO SHIT.

but it doesn't stop him from striking whatever metal bit he's got with him against the bottom of the stone, increasingly desperate. let him out get him out of here--!]

[endsjustified]

[pauses, frowning and covered in dust and sand from the effort, and knocks a sequence back. Rescue coming, it means, whether the grave's occupant knows it or not.

then Styx will briefly only hear silence. Charon needs to rise, brush off his coat as he walks back to the edge of the courtyard, frown a little harder down at the grave like he could open it by judgement alone, and then close his eyes and concentrate.

will the dream let him cast a spell...?]

[ohlord]

[i mean there's all kinds of fucked up abilities on Gunsmoke, so sure. why not?]

[endsjustified]

[all right. well. this shouldn't outright kill the occupant if he targets the gravestone and there's a lot of earth to diffuse it, hopefully.

it takes a little bit, the channels of attunement in his body narrowly-opened and sluggish, but the glitter of magic rises around his feet from the sand at last, pale violet ghosts of the grains forming a flickering circle of light. an equally pale sunburst symbol lights over him, and

the courtyard goes dark, but for him and the grave,

and a wolf steps out of the blackness to his side, larger than a man.

it doesn't look like Death, or the beasts of the mist. it looks fully alien, fang-mawed and tiger-striped. blue lightning crackles in the spikes jutting up from its back and broad shoulders, gathering in a single massive bolt -- and releases.

tl;dr if you can't shove a big rock out of the way just obliterate it]

Re: Nightmare Jams! (cw: death and graves and claustrophobic things lolz)

[electricflock]

[where is this and why is there so much sand. nowhere should have this much sand and hot, this beach is broken.

slinks cautiously across the courtyard, keeping low to the ground. his tawny plumage was just a quirk back home in the flock’s cities, but it’s unexpectedly decent camouflage in a desert.]

[ohlord]

[it sure is good camouflage. not that there's really anything to hide from currently (although a giant sandworm might be out in the dunes way out there, but y'know. this is why you don't live in the dunes).

being low to the ground, though, may mean the birdie does hear a sound that could be mistaken for wind or maybe something the kids are doing inside the church.]

[electricflock]

[pauses and cocks his head to one side then the other. peep? sound? peep?]

[chasseurdebeaute]

[That lighthouse is proving to be wonderfully useful to one who has been 'clearing his head' in the woods for the past day and a half or so. A shadow drifts through the sky on a broom, flying above the beams of the lighthouse, to avoid getting blinded. Trailing after him, tied to the handle of the broom, are satchels of food foraged from the woods, gardening tools that he finally got around to experimenting with, and a couple modest hunts.

He'll be touching down at his barn before making rounds to store away the food or deliver garden tools he might have "borrowed", a good excuse to see the faces around before he turns in for the night.]

[nightmare] [cw: suicide imagery, probably]

[debug_mode]

[there's...

n̸̦̳̉̆̽̋ò̶͍̼̱̞̰̱͎̫̙͒͒̈͊̃̑͌͌̕ẗ̶̡̨̠̩͔͎͎͕̭͈̹̯̫̲́̌h̸̡̡͓̱̘̗̽̏͊̐̃̀̚͜͠ï̵̧̥̭̰̮̝̘̭͍̜̌ͅn̵̢̹̙͇̞͈͖̘͈̥̰̆̓̿g̴̢͉̠̩̭̍̑̄̎͂͂̆̀͘

there was never...

a̶̪͚͇̝͠n̵̡̨̘̖̘͓̪̲̜̺̬̙̣̼͔͖̅̓̏̓̓̈̓͌͐̎̂̀̏͌̂͛̄̕͜͜͠ŷ̸͖̭̩̮̼̯͈̝͎̪̪͗́̿̆͒̀͐͘͠t̴̨͖̹͓̘̠̘̱̞̼͉̼̱̙͎̹̥̪͉̄͂̈́̀̏̊̎͒͆̐̎̕̕͠ȟ̵͖̗̕ï̵̢̨̡͉̦̫̬̳n̴͕̼̯̹̦̙̘̖͑͊͆̈́̾͗̌̊̇͂́́͒͠g̸͈̯̲̥̼̖̞̋̈́̀̉̉̀̑͂̀̕ͅ

You're in a void. It doesn't even qualify as a void. A void can be comprehended. A void would be completely empty and have no emotion in it. This? This has an atmosphere.


n̶̨̬̬̤̒͛̐̈̏̃͒̃o̷̡̡̯̤̻̫̱̖͖͆͐̕t̷̫̹͚̖͚̬͚̊͐͒̈́̀̄̋̏̆͛̽͂͌͐͘̕͠͝h̵̢͈̮͙̯̪̲̘̜̞̞̜̺̰̅̿͐̍̽̑̐̏͆̂̒̒͛̆̈́͋̈́͠ͅỉ̴̹̾̆͑̋̓͝ṉ̵̢̙̎͜g̶̝̪̲̜͓͚̲͇͚̠̝͍̱̩̅̍͊̊͑̌̐̌͜͜n̵̡̨̲̯͙̼̻̭̤̯̣̹̟͕̩̮̝̳͙͛̈͂͆̈́͋̈́̚͘͠e̴͚͈̮͚̞̹̟͔͍̭͑̏̉̅́̀̍̌̾͊ş̷̤̲̱̹̠̟̝͐̆̍̊̃̈́͌̏̋̆͑̆͆̈́̓̈́̚͜s̸̮̯͙͚̼̜̰̭̟̋ͅ ̴̢̢̙̟̯͇͚͚̟̣̱̍͋̿̈́͐̉d̷̨͉̲̠̟̣̫̀ͅe̶̛̥͂̓̆́̂̅̆̊ś̴̢̢͉͍̫̗̳͙̱̣͎̬̯͍̖̝̱͆̇͂̃̀́̿̀̚̕p̷̧̜̘̖̏̾̿̈́̄̒e̸̛̛̟̤͙͙͚̻͚͑͒̅͊̿̐͆͂̕̚r̶̻̩̠̩͑̂̎̋͊̓̄̇̇͛͂͒̐̅̏͘̕a̷̫̘͑̂̎͊̓̅̆̇̌ţ̴̦̆̈́̇̐͋̇͋͘i̷̧͈͈͚̩̠͓͆̀̕͝ó̸͉̜̐͒̽̏̈͐́̀̎̀̕̚͠ņ̴̈́͋̊͆͋̐̂̕ ̶̻͇̮̥̩̝͍̄̓̾̉̀͒̈́͂̇̆̍́̿̑̆̑͘͝ͅh̵͎̭̞̪̲̗͋̅̓͝ǫ̷̢͔̫͚͈̞̠̫̹̗̰̮͙̬̟͙͙͂͌͊͒̆̉̅̾̒̇̋̀̕͘͜͝p̴̡̠̳͓̪̰̗̙̼̦͎̲̞̒͐̀̈́̌̓̈́̌̎͑̈̈́̆̆̓͠͠ͅe̴̢̛̞̞̙͎̺̞̬̣͓͖͂́͂̓l̶̺̦̖͉̬̬̱̯̑͆͐̀̽͜͝ȩ̶̙̩̦͙̫̝̙͔͉̬̲̟̭̫̲͓̊̅̃̔̈͋̚ṡ̸̞͎͙͈̱̻̥̻̤̬̪̯̜̭̭̟̫̅̅͌̍̅̓̚̕͜ș̵̢̛̞̠̳̞͈͒͂̎͑͊̌͗̃̅̈̍̈́͂̇͑͠͠ṅ̵̗͉̖͉̻̏̍̇ę̸̧̨̠̤͍̪̪͍̦̩͉͇̹͈̯͈̪̒̎͜͠s̴̡̧̘͓̠͔̣̩͔̦̉͊̌̀̒͂̈́̃̊͝s̵̡̨̛̙̯̮͍͕̟̭̠̖͕̤̻͙̖̘͋͒̑̀̄̌̆̑͆͋͘̕͘ ̴͍̯͕̤͎͙̖̾̇d̶̜̾̊̎̒̿̈́̄̍͋̈́̏͗̋̃̃̊́̏̚ę̷̰͒̌̈̀̔̓̋̏̂͑̀̎̓̉͋͘͝ŝ̷̢̢̛͓͙̪̳̭͓́̏̀͆̿͂̅͛̏̂̄̒͝͝p̴̧̞̮̤͖̜̪̺̬͚̖͆̂͌́̉̇̓̐̐̉̇ą̵̲̹͉̜̳̹̰͚̬̹͙̩͍̼̼̳͚̳̎̾̇̎͑͒̎̀̔̍́̿͐̎̚͝ȋ̴̯̺̙̫͚͐̇͐̃͒̈̄͘r̵̡̨̛̮͓̜͖͚̼͎̫̻̣̯͙͍̖͚̂̾̃̊͑̀͌̃͜͝͝͝



and, sunk at the bottom of it all: regret.

You don't want to be here.]

[endsjustified]

[late at night this night is either the best or worst time to catch Charon, depending on perspective. instead of risking a walkaround where he can get floored by someone's dream at any moment, he's taken up a seat under the peach tree, one knee drawn up and his head tipped back against the trunk a little. his malfunctioning eyes are shut but he isn't asleep; Rook would be able to tell from the tension in his body language and the way he's frowning in concentration.

he definitely is distracted enough by something, enough that he doesn't notice someone cross into Lily meadow at all, which is rare.]

[survivaltricks]

[a flash of red. an alarm suddenly blares. you open your eyes, and--

[you're standing in the middle of a large museum, surrounded by elaborate painted portraits and glass podiums containing expensive jewelry. it only takes a moment to realize the alarm you hear is the museum alarm. the shattered glass at the base of one of the display cases, along with a large space, fit for a missing jewel, makes it very clear what's going on here]

[and ahead of you, leaning halfway through an open window, is Lupin]

[. . . dressed in black and white prison stripes, a black swashbuckling mask, and holding a bag that's no doubt full of expensive museum goods]

Aha! Nice try, detective!

[is he talking to you??]

But you're ten seconds too late!

[chasseurdebeaute]

[That IS rare! Ambles over (silently) and crouches next to, just watching curiously]

[endsjustified]

[weirdly--despite the tension--Rubato can get close! that's what Charon gets for not setting up a ghost guard before he focused on this particular dream.

his eyes are moving restlessly under the closed lids; Rubato catches him say something soft under his breath. it's not any language he'd recognize, but it sounds a little like German and the inflection seems very rude.]

[endsjustified]

[you have got to be kidding me. he'll play along for the moment, but he'll also take a quick glance down at himself to check who he looks like. in one of these dreams he ended up as a damn clown he is taking no chances]

I think you'll find that I am not.

[shortforever]

[He doesn't even have to stop flying to see this guy above the lighthouse lights. Because Odin is sitting on the roof of the lighthouse.

He's also looking befuddled at seeing someone fly on a broom.]

...the hell?

[chasseurdebeaute]

--Oh! Bonsoir, dear Odin! [will circle over to float near the roof]

The vantage from there is quite beautiful, isn't it? Though I haven't had the pleasure yet of taking in the scenery at night!

hi. i can never say no to dream shenanigans

[finalbows]

<sub>[ You're dreaming of a world without a sky.

Rather than a sun, a blue crystal hangs freely up above -- its washed-out light bathes everything, seeming to ebb and strengthen almost like the rhythm of waves. Though it's beautiful, there's something wrong-- when it glows strongest, you feel it, like a prickle. It's sort of... disorienting. Maybe even painful. A headache you can't quite shake.

It's fine, though. Maybe you can get some water and sit down and take a break...? It's not like you're anywhere dangerous. You're in a village! The layout is just like Woolietown, but the architecture is completely wrong-- organic, almost, like someone built it modeled off of diagrams from their grade school science textbook. Despite the design philosophy, it feels... really lifeless here. There's no grass or moss. No sorts of little insistent scratches at the door, left by nature's whims-- no, signs, of life, except.

There are Pasture-typical sheep everywhere around you milling through the village, all with golden fleece and cute little scarves around their neck with some basic pattern of white and warm-toned shapes. You have a shepherd's crook in your hand, but...

...the bell is missing its clapper. Shake it all you like, it won't ring. ]</sub>