asgardmeridiem | [OPEN] Sweet Dreams ( R-rated )

Entry tags:

[OPEN] Sweet Dreams ( R-rated )

Who: EVERYONE
What: the sweet dreams nightmare plot!
When: Day 246-248 (April 8-12)
Where: everywhere!
Rating: R. Please be mindful of others and label your threads with any trigger warnings in the top-level comment! Do avoid this log if you are not looking for R-rated dream material. The PG-13 and below log is over here.

[ Late at night, amidst the crackling of thunder and the flash of lightning cutting across the sky, a bit of unwieldy magic will be coming down upon the city alongside the pouring rain. It is soundless and sudden, unbidden and without warning. By all outward appearances, everything is exactly as it should be. But at its core, the inner turmoil of Asgard will be unravelling to take a firm hold on its occupants and its grasp will not be easily broken.

Sleep lightly and tread carefully; no place in heaven or Hell is quite as dangerous as one's imagination. ]

[ ooc note: Due to an unexpectedly overwhelming number of separate logs for this event flooding the comm, we have decided to set up a second one for heavier content at player request. Please move all private logs into a top-level comment here. If your logs already have a significant number of tag-ins, they're fine to stay, but we do ask that any with none or few tags move their dreams here in an effort to keep the log comm a little bit cleaner. Alternatively, if you want to take your private log into your character journals, we will accept those as well when AC comes around. Whatever works for you guys. We are extremely sorry for the inconvenience and greatly appreciate your cooperation in this as we stumble our way through figuring out what works for events of this nature. Thank you!

More information regarding this curse can be found here. Please be sure to include your character's location(s) and [OPEN/CLOSED] in the subject line, along with any possible trigger warnings. Feel free to use the mod post to plot out individual threads. The PG-13 and below log is over here.

As a side-note, we did opt to let canon abilities work for this event, but only inside the dreams. No canon abilities will affect anything in the "real world" in any way, shape or form. Please be respectful to your fellow players and play fairly. Let us know if you have any questions or need any help! Thanks! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Oh. Running. Connor has this memory, and this dream, and it takes him a moment to realize that something's not right. He tries to look around without stumbling, and then he hears the voice. Now he knows where he is. Up ahead he sees a figure shifting through the trees with no distinct quality except speed.]

Sophie!

[Sophie is a gnat. She whirls between the shadow's fingers and away.

Dead Baltasar lifts his arms against the moonlight and eight shadow-limbs weave a web to catch the gnat.

Sophie is a hare. She tears through the web and runs, her back legs pounding.

Dead Baltasar drops to his hands and knees. He takes on the aspect of the hound. He is chasing her, his fingers clawed, his head extended, baying in the fashion that the Devil bays.

There's a slight jarring sensation as Sophie changes the dream, breaks the ritual]

Connor, no! Run!

[But she's acknowledged he's there, now, which means he's able to run fast enough to keep up with her.]

[Connor feels lighter, as if someone had tied weights to his limbs and Sophie calling to him cast them off. It's almost right, almost like things should be. His vision sharpens and narrows, his stride doubles in breadth and speed. He catches up to her in only a few breaths.]

Go!

That isn't how it goes.

[But she doesn't look at him. Sophie is a horse; a stag; a gazelle; an antelope; a tiger. She shifts with each footstep, finding the shape best suited to that moment of the road. She is gaining on the shadow.

Then the aspect of the Devil burns around dead Baltasar, and he grows great and fiery, and he tromps after her on great elephantine legs, and the forest shakes and shudders with the pounding of his feet.

Sophie, you have no soul, but I can see your heart, and it is worthy of me.. The words slither into Connor's head too, sweet and tempting and some terrible, seductive parody of love]

You won’t catch me tonight.

[There's something wrong with her tone. She doesn't believe her own words, speaks them like a bad actor.]

[Okay, that's creepy. Connor doesn't spare breath to say anything back, but as far as he's concerned the devil can go straight back to hell.

Where are we going, Sophie?

It's going to catch them. He knows it, but refuses to think about what will happen. You think you're scary, devil? We've fought a dozen devils, there's always a way. Run. Regroup. Try to change what's happening, just this once.]

[It's almost like she can hear him.]

I can't. I've tried.

[She is the lightning, arcing madly forward from tree to tree. But to take form as lightning is tiring and dizzying, so she does not move forward quite so quickly or for quite so long as she would like. She falls from that shape and rises again and she is a hummingbird, an eagle, a falcon, flying upwards towards the clouds and the moon.

Sophie is a thrashing cloud-runner. She is a winged unicorn, its skin as black as pitch. She is a spreading murder of crows.

Dead Baltasar, mounted on an iron pestle, is gaining on her.]

[Connor wonders if he could stop, if he could do anything to delay the devil so that Sophie could get away. This feels real enough. Does he have his strength, or only Sophie's speed? Can they separate? Would the devil bat him away like a doll and catch her anyway?

He turns back.]

[She must be able to hear him, somehow, because the answer comes in a sudden sharpening of his vision and hearing, and the burn of running fades to nothing. Sophie has some control, but not enough. She's given him what she knows he had.

It won't be enough.

Then Sophie is tumbling down as a spear of sunlight to the earth. This is a mistake. The bracken below her is Devil-twisted. It is raising its claws as she falls to snatch her. She changes into an owl and tries to pull herself up but she is falling far too fast.

The claws catch her, dig, pull her to the earth. She thrashes, takes so many forms that she is practically a blur of claws and scales and fur and teeth, but she is well and truly caught.

And Dead Baltasar, the shadow, the Devil, is coming, and he laughs and laughs and laughs]

[Sophie hears Connor scream, maybe will see him rush to meet the monstrous figure that's advancing on her. He knows she's trapped and won't get out. He feels like that's his fault. So clearly the only thing to do is try and fight the shadow.

This will not go well.

He doesn't care.]

[Sophie makes a noise like an animal, a frustrated howl of rage and pain and fear like a beast with its leg in a trap.]

Don't!

[The Devil doesn't even notice Connor until after his first hit lands. Baltasar's corpse is rotted and pustulant and its ribs crunch beneath Connor's fist. The corpse tilts its head, looks at him with eyes that burn red and black and an expression much like one would turn on a child throwing a tantrum.

Sophie is mine, foolish boy.

There's a flare of red, and it flings him backward as though he's no more than a doll, into the trees.]

Edited 2013-04-14 02:51 (UTC)

[Oh joy, the ragdoll thing. Unfortunately for Connor, he's not going to give up that easily. Any pain he might feel is ignored as he hauls back up and races back at them. He makes it to Sophie before the corpse does and braces himself between them with whatever strength she's given him.]

She isn't. Also, fuck you.

Connor, don't. Please don't.

[Sophie is struggling on the ground, back in her human shape, held down by vines and thorns and claws. They break her skin, but the wounds only bleed a moment before she changes her shape to stop them, leaving them piercing bloodlessly through her skin.

Oh, is that so? Well, if you insist.

The smile of a rotting corpse is a rather horrific thing, and with the grin comes fear, the sort of mortal terror that freezes muscles and thoughts alike. The shadow's claws tear across Connor's chest, shove him to the ground beside Sophie. She screams, struggles anew.

It's pointless.]

You don't care about him!

[She's growling at the shadow, only becoming more tangled in vines with thorns like iron.

No, my darling Sophie. The Devil's voice is still beguiling and sweet. But you do.]

[Clawing, tearing, bleeding, all of these things are familiar enough to him. He can't shift to stop it but he can keep fighting as long as the devil doesn't have him tied down as well. Connor pulls himself to his knees and reaches for Sophie's hand; he finds only thorns, one of which shoots upwards and stabs straight through his palm. He screams again.]

Let. Her. Go!

[The darkness around the shadow seems to reach out and grab him when he gets up.]

[Sophie makes an utterly inhuman noise, one that couldn't possibly have actually come from her throat, body bowing in a way that looks more like electrocution than an escape attempt.

The world wrenches and for a moment it seems like everything is going to crumble around them, like they might wake up, before it solidifies again and they're somewhere else. Sophie is standing, seemingly uninjured, and the pain in his hand is gone. She lifts her hands to cradle his face, stroking his cheeks, resolved and desperate and terrified all at once]

Please, Connor. I win this one. I'll get us out. Please don't interfere.

--what? No.

[He can't just stand there and watch. Even if the pain wasn't gone, he couldn't manage that. Connor grabs one of her hands and practically begs, eyes bright and afraid.]

Wake up. Sophie, wake up, please.

[Sophie shakes her head, takes a small breath]

I can't. I don't ever wake up before the end.

[She bites her lip, chews it until it should be bloody, glances at the red and black light in the distance.]

If you kill me, I'll wake up. Otherwise...

[She makes a vague gesture toward the ominous red. It's getting closer.]

I do beat him, Connor. He runs from me in the end.

[Connor glances from Sophie to the redness and back again.]

...how much does it hurt?

Not near as much as the other one. There's a bit, though...

[She rests her forehead against his, the difference in their heights unimportant in the dream.]

I told you I was tainted. This is when.

I told you I don't care.

[They're running out of time. He seems to calm, going perfectly still.]

Which?

I know you don't care.

[Her tone is almost short, like she's fighting down fear.]

I mean you might have to feel it too. I mean...

[She shakes her head a little. It's not her own pain that concerns her, how horrible this is for her. Sophie has lived this, has dreamt it over and over. Connor hasn't.]

I can't do that to you. There might be a way for me to kill myself. Most of the way, at least. Maybe all the way.

[His jaw works with tension and he reaches out, hand settling on her neck. The strength in it is superhuman, fingers placed carefully at the base of her skull. He knows it won't let him participate, because he can't just watch. They don't need to do this.]

Shh. Wake up this time.

[Sophie draws a quiet breath, lets it out, and relaxes against him. He might even be able to feel her weakening herself, changing herself until she's weak and human and easily broken. Her arms wrap around his waist, fingers tangling in his belt loops so they'll stay there even when her hands go limp. When she looks at him, though, there's no fear in her eyes, only trust]

Don't let go of me, all right? Not till we wake up. I have to bring you back.

Edited 2013-04-14 04:36 (UTC)

[He just hums, holding her at the waist and pulling her close. The red is so close it's washed everything around them out -- he can't stall any longer. Connor breathes out and closes his hand where it lies, crushing Sophie's spine and snapping the cord with a practiced twist. He squeezes his eyes closed as she falls.]

[Almost immediately, the world seems to start dissolving around him, everything fading from burning, threatening red to the color of light through eyelids.

Sophie jerks in his arms, and for a moment the dead Sophie in his arms overlaps with a far-away feeling of hands on his face, smoothing away his hair, shaking him.]

Connor, wake up, love. Wake up, Connor. Come on, please.

[He wakes up with a start so violent it almost tumbles Sophie to the floor -- it seems they fell asleep on the couch earlier. Connor tightens his arms almost painfully around her and tries to catch his breath. After a good minute of just clinging, he mutters into her hair:]

That sucked.

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