OPT-OUT EVENT LOG: DREAM A LITTLE DREAM

[asgardmods]

Who: EVERYONE that stayed in Asgard
What: the Dream a Little Dream mingle log
When: Day 515 ( Sept. 25/26 )
Where: all across the city!
Rating: PG-13. Anything higher than that should be taken to a private log, please!

Day 515 ( Sept. 25/26 )

Progress through the ice blockade will be slow and narrow, as they can't possibly hope to clear the entirety of the forest that has been buried under Thiazi's black ice. Now that they know the source of her magic's corruption, it might not come as a great surprise when cracking open the ice unleashes a strange burst of magic.

At the halfway point between Utgard and Asgard, a pulse of energy will move through the entire city, immediately putting every mortal it touches to sleep. This part of the curse is mandatory and your character must fall asleep; the dream effects of it are not mandatory, and can be played with at your discretion. During this first wave, Travellers will be granted a brief dream - that does not belong to them. They will see, from the dreamer's point of view, every hope and goal and aspiration that the dreamer wishes to complete before the end of days. Whether it's simply confessing their love to an old friend or saving their home planet or perfecting an Asgardian pie, your character will see someone else's ideal resolution before Ragnarok. More on plotting this below!

Upon waking, the Travellers will be plagued with the indistinct whispering of several voices overlapping one another and a slight headache. Both symptoms will gradually increase over time until it reaches incapacitating pain and nausea. The only way to assuage the symptoms is to find the owner of the dream and either maintain physical contact for an hour or discuss the subject of the dream until a full confession has been made. After that, the symptoms will fade and the Travellers will be free to carry on with their day.

There will be other pulses of magic at random throughout the day; these are not mandatory and you can feel free to have your character experience as many or as few dreams as you wish. All dream-sharing will cease by the end of the day, as the blockade progresses past that centre-point of magic.

[ OOC NOTES: This is the mingle log for the Dream a Little Dream opt-out event! Random pairings have already been sent out, but you guys can still feel free to plot with each and pair up anywhere you like. Please remember that these dreams are meant to be positive; details can be found here. Please put [OPEN/CLOSED] along with the time and location in the title of your comment. Let us know if you have any questions! ]

Comments

[needsnoheadsman]

"Aye." He steps inside, and even that small step takes enough out of him that he leans a little on the door once it's shut. He looks tired, weary down to his bones, the feelings of peace and hope and gratefulness and utter relief that lingered for a moment after the dream having faded away with the pain and nausea.

It takes a moment for him to find his words.

"I saw a dream," he says, finally, a little awkward. "I suspect it's yours. I--" I saw bloody hands reaching out for me, he doesn't say. "Your friend is a good man," he says, instead, thinking of the warm hand that caught his, of the sheer relief that crashed over him like a wave.

[robosnack]

"You--"

Killua's eyes widen in shock, than narrow immediately, defensive and confused. He has no idea what Robb has seen, but considering the dream in his head-- It could be very personal.

"What did you see?" he demands instantly, brow furrowed and covered in sweat. He looks breathless and sick, nearly falling back down on the bed when he jumps up from it suddenly.

"...I saw something about you, too."

[needsnoheadsman]

Robb freezes, then, like a deer caught in the eyes of a predator, entire body going still. He has no way of knowing what Killua saw through his eyes, no way of knowing if he's found out about the wedding. About all the things Robb does his best to bury. This dream-sharing is proving to be far more trouble than it's worth, really.

A sick feeling takes root in his stomach. Neither of them, he knows, particularly wanted to see each other's dreams, and even though he had no control over the matter he still feels exposed, laid bare to someone he doesn't know so well, though he's decided to give the boy in front of him the benefit of the doubt. And he has a feeling he can guess at what Killua's feeling.

"Hands," he finally says. "You were running from them. I'm not certain what happened, but one moment you were running, the next they were gone and your friend helped you up." He doesn't know how, exactly, to describe that feeling of utter relief and gratitude, how an echo of it stayed and made him feel strangely peaceful, until the pain became overwhelming.

He straightens up, then. "What did you see?"

[robosnack]

Killua winces, jaw hard. He knows that dream-- it's one he gets sometimes, in various forms, his victims reaching for him when the guilt gets bad. Usually, though, these kinds of dreams end... poorly. There's only one friend he can think of, and Killua quickly hides the glimmer of surprise. Gon.

Instead, he merely shrugs, glancing away.

"I saw... your siblings. Bran was there, and others. Your... family. You were happy." He looks uncomfortable, sitting slowly back down on the edge of the bed and clenching his hands in his lap, breathing fast. The sick, wrong feeling is only getting worse.

"...you're dead in your world, aren't you?"

[needsnoheadsman]

It's not the dream he was expecting to hear, but it's a personal one all the same, for all its wishful thinking (and it is wishful, a boy's dreams, and the man that he is knows it won't ever be). He closes his eyes against the headache building behind them, biting at his lower lip. There it is, now, hanging in the air between them, and Robb opens his eyes and exhales.

"I was," he says. (And who are you, the proud lord said--) "I woke up here afterwards. It was--disorienting, to say the least."

[robosnack]

"That does sound disorienting," he agrees quietly, uncomfortable. He feels like he's invading something private, and the feeling is awkward to say the least.

"Your family seemed... nice," he offers after a second, unsure what to say. It had been a nice feeling, at least. Warm.

[needsnoheadsman]

"Your friend as well, as I've said." This is supremely awkward, if you ask him, but, well--things could've been worse. He takes a few steps forward and finds himself having to lean on something again, in this case the bed post, the headache coming back in full force and then some. If this gets any worse, he's fairly certain he'll end up passing out on Killua's floor.

"Would it be prying if I asked about him?" Because it had been--nice, the feel of someone's hand clasping his, pulling him up after the darkness and the hands were gone. And he really doesn't want to talk about either the hands or the Red Wedding.

[robosnack]

"Sit down," Killua sighs, watching him uncertainly. "You look like you're about to fall over." Though, honestly, Killua himself hardly looks any better. He's even paler than usual, starting to look a bit green, breathing uneven and a little too loud.

The question makes him hesitate, but he doesn't see why not. Depends on the questions, maybe.

"I guess it's fine. Why do you want to know?"

Normally, he'd have been more suspicious, but there's this weird, nagging urge in the back of his throat to just talk, anything, get his mind off how sick he feels. Something is very wrong. He hates how little he understands about the workings of this place.

[needsnoheadsman]

His need to sit down wins out quickly enough over his pride, so he takes the invitation for what is and sits down on the bed, trying to ignore the building headache.

Good question. Why does he want to know? It's not something he particularly wants to pry into, though it has stoked his curiosity, but something beyond simple curiosity is urging him on to ask. At this point, he'll do a lot of things to not think about how sick he feels, about--about dying.

"I've not seen you so glad before," he ventures. Then again, he doesn't see Killua that much at all, when he's not coming by Hel to see Bran. "I wanted to know more of him, but if you'd rather not speak of it, I won't try to sate my curiosity."

[robosnack]

Killua turns to watch him, not commenting. He'd invited him to sit, and the foot of the bed was the closest thing. Robb really does look about to keel over.

"It's fine." Whether or not it's really fine doesn't matter, though, not when he feels so awful and the words feel wrenched out of him, regardless.

"He's my friend-- my best friend. And yeah. I'm happy being around him. That's all."

It's not, not really; it's not so simple as that, but without specific questions to answer, it's all he says for now, watching Robb's face. The ill, twisting feeling in his gut isn't letting up yet.

[needsnoheadsman]

He tries not to think about his own best friend. At all. (An image from a vision from a little while back resurfaces: a dungeon, a flash of a knife, a scream--)

"I could see that much." And he'd been grateful, too, Robb had felt that rush of relief and gratefulness and joy as strongly as it might've been had it been his own emotions. Killua is half a stranger to him, yet here he is telling him about his friend, and Robb feels a little like an intruder, like someone who walked in on something private and can't look away now.

He huffs out a breath, then says, "I had five siblings." Four trueborn, one bastard, but Robb will never not see Jon Snow as his brother anyway. "Most were here in Asgard, at one time or another. Some more than once." Rickon's the only exception here, and gods, Robb hopes he doesn't get dragged into this war. For the most part, anyway--a small part of him wants to see Rickon again, war aside. "Bran is the only one now, but I'm glad he's here. If it wasn't for this place, I wouldn't see him or any of my family again."

He looks down now, at his hands, and twiddles his thumbs. For all the dignity he's tried to muster, for all that he thinks of himself as a man grown, wedded and bedded, it's probably fairly obvious now to Killua that he's young.

[robosnack]

Perhaps sadly, Killua is very used to people so young or younger being killed, killing, worse. He himself looks only marginally older than Bran, and he's killed more people than he can count by now. It is an unpleasant little shock to think about the dead here, though, the impossibility of it and how difficult it must be for Robb to have seen his siblings come and go and know that they won't even remember.

"You really love your family, don't you?" he blurts, as if surprised. Family for him is... complicated. It's difficult to imagine, but he doesn't have to with the feelings from Robb's dream still fresh and raw.

[needsnoheadsman]

He looks up again. "Aye, I do," he says. "As well as you love your friend, I should think." Granted, if he'd seen the other dream he'd have chosen another way of wording it, but as it is, that's what he can infer from the sheer and utter relief and gratitude, almost as strong as though he'd felt them himself, as though he was the one being pulled up to his feet by his best friend. "He's like a brother to you, isn't he?"

[robosnack]

Robb is just hitting all the unintentional buttons today, isn't he? Killua's jaw drops a little when he says love, and nearly falls right open at the question. He looks suddenly flustered, confused, and defensively angry all at once, puffing up like a little fish and clenching his fists in his lap.

"Huh? No way!"

His face feels hot, and he tries to will the blush away through sheer stubbornness, glaring up at Robb.

"Don't assume things about people. It's rude."

[needsnoheadsman]

He blinks, taken aback by this sudden change. All right, he might've overstepped his boundaries in asking that, assuming that Killua would consider his friend a brother, if not one in blood, the way Robb was before with Theon (and he decides to quit thinking about that). Still, he'd thought it was a good assumption to make, considering the palpable relief in the dream, the feeling like he'd been found at last. Like coming home, he thinks, but decides not to mention that.

He doesn't really know Killua, aside from sharing their dreams by accident. He can't really assume that Killua's life had been easy--hell, he knows he didn't. No one whose life had been easy would dream of bloody hands reaching out for them.

"I'm sorry for that," he says. "But you care for him deeply, that much is obvious enough." So close. So close, but still no idea.

[robosnack]

"Well, yeah, I- I guess, but--"

There's another stab of pain in his head and Killua groans, hiding his face in his hands both because it hurts and to hide the growing blush. He has to pause, rubs his forehead and temples and breathes deeply. There's a weird urge to keep talking, the words pressing at the back of his tongue as if intent on being let out. It's an uncomfortable feeling, along with the nausea, the way his fingers twitch restlessly. It doesn't occur to him to reach out.

"What exactly did you see in this dream of mine? You sound pretty sure of yourself, talking about my feelings. It's creeping me out."