poly_chromatic | Third dream // Dream curse

The setting is superficially similar to a theatre, but there's far less seating, and what little there is seems to be made of twisted vines grown out of the polished wood of the floor. The stage is a mostly flat surface of overlapping leaves covered in a seemingly thin sheet of ice. To one side stands a man-like figure. Man-like yes, but no natural man is that thin, with fingers that taper to points instead of ending in nails. And no man has ever had eyes like this one has - pools of darkness scattered with flecks of ice blue and verdant green. His attention is on the stage, on the dancer on the stage, his gaze cold and unforgiving, the gaze of one who sees everything else in the world in terms of how they are useful to him. Not a gaze any sensible person wants turned on them.

Ren dances across the stage, tension evident in both the total lack of expression on her face, and the stiff set of her shoulders. It doesn't seem to affect her dancing, not at first. But as she dances her steps get less sure, subtly at first. The man-thing watching frowns, his expression noticeably less and less pleased as Ren's steps continue to lose their surety and edge towards stumbling.

Finally she makes the actual mistake, foot landing a half inch to the left of where it should have, at a point where there are no leaves under the ice. It cracks under her weight, and she falls, leg plunging through the hole. There is a chorus of cracking noises as the ice around her starts to crumble as well. She tries to push herself up, to crawl out of the way, but the ice cracks under her hands, causing her to make little headway. As the ice cracks under her hips, she cries out, thrusting an arm towards the man-thing.

In a flash he's there, grabbing her arm and hauling her up, but there's no mercy in his expression. "Pathetic" he says, voice as cold and hard as his gaze. "You'll never be good enough"

With a single snap of his arm he flings her across the room. She hits the wall and slides down it into a crumpled heap. "Don't die," the man-thing says. "You're pathetic, but I hate wasting things" And then he disappears in a swirl of ice crystals.

[OOC: So yes, feel free to encounter, interrupt or otherwise interact with Ren's dream. Those familiar with such things may recognize the man-thing as being fae of some sort.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Funny thing about dreams.

You're sometimes more what you really are in them than what you're not. Theo is less human in a dream now than when he was younger. He just sort of blurs along the edges, a mixture of silvers and shadows. Something almost contained and waiting to get out. Or not yet formed.

When he sees Ren getting flung across the room he gives a shout to the fae. "Leave her alone!"

[Someone else is watching from up in the trees. Just a bird, just a crow. Pay it no mind.]

The fae lord turns, blinking very slowly, once. "She is mine," he says, as if the matter is of very little consequence to him. "She knows the consequences for failure. And yet she continues to fail."

From the floor, Ren makes a soft moaning sound. "He... he's right"

A crow is oddly out of place here, and Ren's not survived this far by being unobservant. "Spy or gawker, you're not welcome here." Her voice betrays her pain, but the words are clear enough.

"Am I not? More's the pity. I was quite taken with your performance."

And this may, in fact, be true.

She laughs, once and without humor. There might be a slight edge of looming insanity in that laugh. She's not been broken yet, but it won't take much more.

"It wasn't perfect. And perfection is all that matters"

The crow cocks its head, one bright eye shining. He heads that oncoming insanity.

"To whom does perfection so matter?"

"To the only one who's opinions matter in this place" She shifts so she's laying on her back gazing up at the crow. "To my Lord of Ice and Vines."

And the crow looks back at her there below. It shuffles, ruffles, adjusts wings and feathers.

"And was that my lord who just departed from this place?"

Shrugs are awkward when one is lying on one's back, but Ren manages. "Who else?" Her mouth quirks up at the corners ever so slightly. "So which are you, little crow? A spy or just someone passing by who stopped to gawk?"

"Little." He'd be offended if it weren't essentially true.

"Someone passing by who stopped to watch, I assure you. For whom would I spy if I were a spy? I don't even know. So I could hardly be a spy. And I was not gawking, if you care to hear. I was watching. And there is a difference."

Can a crow smile? Hardly. But there's a smile to his voice.

"Beating her isn't going to make her more likely to do what you wish," Theo says conversationally as he wanders up towards the stage.

"Give her to me."

"You could be spying for one of the other Lords or Ladies." It's a matter of fact statement, but if her tone and the way she lets her eyes close, it's not something that matters much to Ren. "No matter what, best not to stay too long. My Lord doesn't like intruders"

"And who are you to demand such things?" The lord asks, as he waves a hand towards the stage. Ice reforms in the hole, the cracks disappearing until it's one perfectly smooth sheet again. "This is my realm. I am law here."

This is a dream and dreams are not quite true and yet they have aspects of truth in them, which is why Theo says, "I am death. I am above laws."

"And perhaps I am, yes, perhaps I am."

And he had, at times, been dispatched as a spy for his lord--in name only, because what good was the old red thing, anyway? Let him play with his titles and his toys, unaware of the workings of the world beyond the grasp of his feeble mind.

"Few lords do, or such has been my experience. And quite a lot of experience it has been, I say true."

The lord's laughter echoes through the room, the very walls seeming to vibrate with it. "Death has no domain in the Summerlands. Except on those like her." He waves a careless hand towards Ren. "And only I may touch her"

Ren struggles to sit up, her eyes now open and shining with hope born of desperation. "Do you know a way out then? If you're so experienced?"

"A way can be found. Like as not. Doors are rare but ways are more common. Perhaps one can be found. Like as not, like as not."

A shuffling ruffle of feathers.

Third dream // Dream curse

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject