onepassingnight

[ This is a city, but it might be hard to recognize that at first. The communal housing is set in giant shells; ancient coral lines the paths in between. The entire landscape suggests a sea was once here. It has greenery, but in a sparse sense, thin plants dotting the ground and sometimes reaching up to the coral. Still, there is life here, and where there is life there is routine, particularly in an aspect so crucial as raising the children.

There is schooling.

Aerith sits in on an outdoors lesson to a mixed-age group of children, looking just as fascinated as the lot of them as the matron plucks out notes on a small harp and tells a story along with the simple melody. It might be easy to miss her in the gathering as her customary pink dress is instead a flowing white garment with light green fading in near the bottom, tied close at her waist with a colored sash. And the usual ribbon in her hair is missing. But she laughs and talks with a typical cheerfulness, helping the teacher, up until she senses the new presence nearby. Then she looks over her shoulder with cautious eyes and rises in one fluid motion to meet the stranger, staff in hand. That at least is familiar, to anyone who's seen the Princess Guard. ]

Hmm? What a surprise, it's not everyday a traveler comes along... I hope we're well met. Hello there! [ The matron is subtle but efficient as she checks that her bow and arrow are in hand's reach. The children are less so. While some young ones cower and many look on, blankly or curiously, one teenager can be seen reaching for what might be a dagger, and a preteen has a fist around a fair-sized rock for his sling.

The Cetra were used to struggle. ]

[ for this month's theme: ... I was tempted to throw in a velociraptor stampede or something, lol. Seriously, Gaia has dinosaur-like creatures in the present day (see this gem and yes that is a triceratops merged with a tank, Zack wtf is wrong with your hometown), so I doubt a few dinosaurs 2000 years in its past is stretching it, if you want to include that somehow.) ]

[ETA: My e-mail hasn't been working for over two days now, orz--stopped some hours after I posted. It's definitely slowed me down, but I'm still going on comments! ]

This dream is set on a beach with ruins embedded in the cliff that rose from the sand, cracked stairs leading up to a building above that's also falling apart.

Seira herself sits on the remains of a pillar, bare toes curling in the warm sand. The wind off the sea tugs at the grasses and her hair, seagulls crying above and the smell of salt fill the air. Despite the lonely nature of the setting, the young woman seems almost happy to be there.

It's home; or had been once upon a time anyway.

There's a ragged photograph clutched in one hand, and she looks at it with a nostalgic smile. "I guess...there's no going back, is there?" She asks, not expecting a reply.

One wouldn't think a place like Midgar could be this cold, much less effected by such an intense level of snow and ice coating the once-lively city. The thick, winter sky above graciously littered the land in gentle, white flakes, resting upon layers of already-compacted snow on the ground, the buildings... and something else towering above.

On the highest section of the city, upon the highest building, rested a large black dragon. And from the layers of snow covering its prone form, it was safe to say the creature hadn't budged from that spot in ages. Feathered wings were tucked behind a spiked back, green eyes bright yet sorrowful, staring down at the crumbled memories below.

For half of his life, this city had been his home.

He'd fought for it, protected it... and now this very same city was destroying itself - the manifestation of the greed he'd been so ignorant to before. And now his friends were suffering from it as well, with very little a thing he could do. He rumbles lowly, shifting his head to the sky his spirit now occupied or was it the earth? the Planet could be both.

Little to his knowledge, there is a path of steel and rubble, leading to the structure above.

You're aware of a deep, chilling darkness that surrounds you. You're in an unfamiliar basement, and there's a terrible potpourri of dust and formaldehyde that creates the stench of the dank place. There's something like a whisper in your ear, voices speaking in undertones that you can't hear, even though there's really no one there with you. A chill runs up your spine, as if a wind has come through, but the air is still, and the silence all around hangs heavy.

Amid musty boxes, a claw-footed tub, and numerous other things, there stands a girl. She's dressed fairly typically for a girl her age in the 21st century, and for one who is trying to set herself apart. The teenager stands, staring off into the shadows of the room, holding her arms as if she's cold.

"Why am I... here?"

Mercury waits for her prey, in the shadows. She does nothing to help the victim of an attack, even when a sandy-haired man in a shitennou's uniform extracts a blue crystal from her body and the girl becomes a monster of the Dark Kingdom, one of its seven great warriors.

Ah, there they are: the sailor senshi, just as she knew they'd come. She's done this so many times in so many worlds, after all; so many that she's even dreaming of it. Mercury gives a satisfied smirk; but she is not here for them, either. While they battle the youma, Zoisite and Tuxedo Kamen fight over the blue crystal. That is what she's after, and Mercury waits until they're immersed in their battle to dash in under the cover of her own fog and mist to snatch it up. It glows with a strong energy.

Sucess. They notice it, and both chase after her, but she's quickly away, leaving them to conclude it was her alternate. The blue rainbow crystal will never be seen in this world again - and thus, neither will the princess' tool of destruction, the ginzuishou, which requires all seven to come together.

It's while she's making her escape that a pack of youma, sent to reclaim the crystal, corner her and start to press in closer. Even she might have trouble with this many, and her eyes cast about for escape but find none. Fine, then.

"Dark Rhapsody!"

(ooc: help her escape, make her return it, catch her later to talk more about it, anything goes)

[There's no rule against having Christmas themed dreams a few days late, is there? If there is, it's not one River Song ever paid any mind to. Of course, all of the music and decorations are contained in a rusty space ship-looking room, but without windows it might be anything from an old warehouse to a submarine. An excessively roomy submarine without any of the proper movements associated with deep sea diving.

Whichever the case, the party seems lively enough, with a wide variety of human and humanoid species milling through the room and the din of conversation and celebration nearly louder than the music itself.

River herself stands at the refreshments table in a sparkling black dress holding a bottle of something that could probably knock an unwary man unconscious. Occasionally she'll portion it out into a daintier crystal glass, but often she'll simply drink it straight and grin at the people passing by.

A short distance from her, the three figures from her previous dream, the sandy-haired man, the red-haired woman, and the geek in a bow-tie the taller dark-haired man seem to be involved in their own miniature celebration (because it's stretching the truth a bit to call their flailing about 'dancing'). Their laughter and voices are loud enough to carry over the din, but none of their words are distinct enough to catch. She doesn't seem overly bothered by it.]

If he keeps flailing like that he's going to take someone's eye out, and then they'll all be kicked out. [She sighs] I could stop him, but I think we both know it'd be a waste of my efforts.

This dream has an old familiarity to it, almost homey despite the rather fantastic setting. It's a library, but not one that would likely exist anywhere. The shelves are formed of translucent ice, formed in to whorls and twisting pillars that hold countless numbers of books. As if to completely defy logic, flowers grow from the floor and the temperature is pleasantly cool.

Tseng can be found at one of the myriad of shelves, pulling books off and opening them before dropping them on the ground at his feet in his frustration. "I can't read any of these."

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
But, unfortunately, St Nicholas was never to be there.

The dreamers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of all sorts of adventures danced in their heads.
Each dreamer in PJ's or Nightgowns with caps,
As if they were already sleeping inside of a nap.

When out in the living room there arose such a clatter,
The dreamer sprang up from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away down the stairs, from their warm beds they bolted,
What they saw was something .. not quite what they expected.

Powdered sugar on the tree made it look like snow
There was a cup of spilt milk on the carpet below.
When, what to ones wandering eyes should they discover
A senshi of the moon, sprawled on the floor with her head under a platter.

She spoke not a word, but lifted the plate from her vision,
When she looked up to see she was caught, her cheeks they did brighten.
Scratching her head with the sheepish of smiles,
Her embarrassment matches the Santa hat on her usual hairstyle.

".. I guess you caught me." She said as she holds out a present,
The ribbon was all curls and the wrapping quite decent,
Now the question, for your Christmas dream pleasure,
Will you open it now or will you open it later?

(ooc: BEHOLD MY FAIL!RHYMING. Also MERRY CHRISTMAS GAIZ. This post is family themed, or it doesn't have to be. It's really all up to you~ Just to clarify, she IS dressed up as first incarnation of Sailor Moon... but with a Santa hat.. Yeah. C_C )

Is it dark? Are you still awake? Where are you? Is this a dream?

All of these thoughts and more would flutter through your mind, caught on the thin wire between consciousness, and being trapped within the confines of your own imagination. In time, it slowly dissapates, burning away as the universe reveals itself. You might find yourself standing on a tall, icly pillar, gazing at the stars that seem forever locked in twilight. Or perhaps you're deeper, nearly drowning in a pool of water that seems to have an almost green tinge, wouldn't you agree? and just barely managing to float to the surface. Planets are out of line, the clouds are tricoloured and thick, but no matter what.

The stars remain.

This land is open, free. Shattered. There are absolutely no restrictions here, and the asteroids have already grasped the concept. They shift and crumble before you, just before drifting into the great abyss. You might see those you know, wandering the stars - some with a confused stagger, and others with defined purpose.

Look down.

One of the asteroids is misshapen.

And there is the faint outline of a man resting upon it, sitting as if in meditation.

The will of this world guides you towards it.

[You're drowning. You must be drowning because you're surrounded by water, falling deeper into this vast sea, or are you going up? Whether you look up or down the sight is the same, darkness spreading while wrapped lovingly in the water's embrace. Is this how are you going to end? Drowning in an unknown sea, for an unknown reason? But that's impossible, this isn't your first time, is it? This can't be real. Or is it? But even so, there has to be a way out, there has to.

This is a strange sea though there are no fishes around, no type of life anywhere on sight. But if you pay more attention you will see them. Thousands, countless of them. Stars? They shine with an unknown light, some seem warm, beckoning, others seem cold, some shine in a white light, others in a blood red one. They are all around you, floating in this sea. Fragments of a huge crystal that must have been shattered for there to be so many of those around here.

And in the middle of it, in the middle of the vast sea full of fragments. Stands a young man with a red long coat, he takes one fragment and seems to examine it before letting it drift away from him and taking another. And every time, his face shows nothing but disappointment.]

This one isn't any good either, is it?

"Moth-her..." Kadaj rasped, sucking in deep breaths of air that seemed devoid of oxygen. The oppressive sun glazed the landscape with dry, shimmering heat, caking the remains of the lifestream to sweaty skin. The young remnant clamped his jaw shut and forced himself to take each new exhausting step over the debris. "Yazoo...Loz..." He cracked out, throat dry. He had to find them; he just had to find his brothers! This was where they had last been together, this was where Kadaj had had his Reunion and met Him.

Kadaj raised a forearm above his head to block out the blinding sun. It hadn't been fair! Everything could have gone just right had Strife not interfered. Even so, Sephiroth should have finished him off, but he didn't. He had a desire to play too much, just like Loz did. It was Sephiroth's failing flaw that put Mother in the position she was now.

"Oompf," he grunted, silver hair clinging to forehead. "Yazoo! Loz!" He cried out again, more needy and desperate.

One hand in front of the other, one knee before the other. Kadaj crawled through sharp shards of metal and other discarded pieces of the old ShinRa Headquarters. Emerald eyes panned the area looking for anything. Silver hair, a leather glove, Velvet Nightmare, Dual Hound, a foot, a body. Any sign of his brothers. Nothing.

Mother still needed them, their purpose still lived on. Yet the only lead they had on Jenova was now gone. How could they fulfill her desire if they didn't know where to find her? At least before, Kadaj had known she was somewhere. He had never been without her guidance until now.

The rush of emotions and confusion crashed wildly in his mind, overloaded with too many sensations at once. "SEPHIROTH!" he screamed out to no one. "This is your fault." Anger barged in, consuming all other emotions and thoughts, taking control and guiding his actions.

"COWARD!" He marched savagely to the top of the rubble, hands clenched into fists. "YOU DON'T DESERVE HER!" Kadaj spun about as if someone was there to listen. "I COULD HAVE DONE IT! I COULD HAVE BEEN HER FAVORITE!"

Bending down, he picked up a large sheet of metal and chucked it off into the distance. "You took her away from me." He growled, grabbing another metal piece as its jagged edges cut deeply into his hands. "You think you can do better than me!" Throwing and kicking debris everywhere, he barely acknowledged the blood that seeped down his wrists.

Exhausted, Kadaj dropped to his knees. The metal burned at his skin but the remnant ignored it. What was he supposed to do in a situation like this? "What do you want," he pleaded. "Mother, tell me." He looked up at the empty sky, the sun warming his face. "Talk!" It was an order, though a futile one.

The weather report had forecast rain, but they'd been lucky.  The sky had been clear and sunny when they'd picked out and set up their campsite earlier and it had stayed just as balmy on the long hike to the lake.  It was his last chance to be with his baby sister before she went off to college (not such a baby anymore.  Life seemed intent on forcing him to acknowledge that fact despite his best efforts to avoid it).  Cloud wanted today, this whole trip together, to be perfect. 

( fishy hijinksCollapse )

ooc. so - we're going with a bit of an AU (an AU within an AU - we need to go deeper!) with this post.  It's pretty much modern day Tokyo, where Cloud and Ami have been brother and sister all their lives and they're getting in one last family event before Ami goes off for college.  Feel free to jump on in as a late arriving family member, a friend, a stranger in the lean to they're taking shelter from the rain in, whoever you feel like jumping in as.  Due to the HUGE difference in our posting speeds, I'm a snail, put who you'd like to have tagging back in your subject line, either or both, together or separate threads and whether you're open to random threadjacking by the other or not.  I've got a busy couple of days coming up but I wanted to get this up and out there now before LJ updates and goes down again.  Come join the rainy day fun!

[Reno's sitting in a public park in the middle of Edge, dressed in her uniform, but decidedly off duty. That is, her superiors would probably prefer she be off duty when spending her time this way, as she's sitting sprawled on a park bench, eating french fries. Or fried potato strips, as the case may be in a world with no France.

She's not alone. There are quite a few people with her. Young people, aging in range from toddlers to teenagers nearing adulthood. Most of them are dressed in clothes that show signs of wear and tear; many of them look tired and hungry, their faces drawn: some of the numerous homeless of Edge. The majority of lost their homes and families to Meteor or Geostigma or one of the other recent disasters.

They may not be well-fed, but they're eating now, as Reno has distributed burgers and fries to all of them, and is leaning back and chatting with them in a personable manner. These kids and her have some things in common.]

I didn't have any family when I was your age either, and look how I turned out. [How can the world even contain all this amazing?] It ain't such a big deal. It makes you stronger, and the strong survive. You can make your own family, if you want. [She laughs as one of the kids asks for another burger in response to this and hands one over. He's got his priorities straight.] Yeah, you can have some more. Here you go.

[Another kid asks another question.] Sure, I can show you how to use the EMR later, not a problem. We'll have some fun. [She pats the Electro-Mag Rod she's got with her (as usual). Children + high voltage weapons = a great idea! She draws the line at guns, though. She enjoys talking to the kids, teasing them and laughing at their jokes. They're less annoying than most adults.

It really isn't bad, having no family, but sometimes she wonders if anybody related to her survived everything that happened to the Planet recently. She only has vague memories of her biological family, but she is famous, so maybe they'd remember and recognize her. With so much upheaval lately, it's hard to tell where everyone ended up, or when you might meet someone unexpected.]


[[OOC: Family event! Feel free to show up as an orphan, a Turk (the only people Reno does consider something like a family), or even a long-lost family member. Or just bother Reno; that's cool, too.]]

Tseng smiled thinly as he watched the surprisingly large group gathered in one of Shin-Ra's ballrooms, he'd never realized quite how many people considered him family whether they were actually related or not. There was a smattering of brothers and sisters along with their kids, people he couldn't remember seeing but were somehow actually related to him and had come to congratulate him. Turks were there, of course, new ones who were just beginning to learn how to tie their ties and old ones who'd retired before his time.

He'd given a speech; speaking of loyalty and camaraderie, that they'd only need to call and he'd put his tie back on and be out the door for them. Once a Turk, always a Turk and he'd never abandon them or the tiny group of relatives he'd recently been informed of still having.

He knew he should talk to them, approach them and say something but he didn't know a thing about any of them these days. Family had been the company for nearly twenty years now, and while blood was thicker than water he'd shed an awful lot of it alongside the Turks.

It was awkward.

[OOC: Tseng's dreaming of his retirement party, and there's newly discovered family in attendance.]

[While everyone else is having typical, family-oriented dreams, you may notice this one in particular to be... a little unusual. First of all, Ratchet isn't quite Ratchet today.

First off, he's naked.

Second, he's not grinding away at one of his typical projects.

If anyone were to approach this creature out in the grassy field, they may find him lounging about - whether he's scratching at his ears, grooming himself, or just darting around trying to catch even more odd creatures roaming the wilderness. He might even have one in his mouth!

Oh, but don't piss off the little blue guys, either. Word to the wise.]

[ The sound of bells ringing, the smell of cookies baking in the oven, and the over abundance of red and green decorating the halls and the like- all of these things point to one thing: it's that time special time of year called Christmas.

Kids with rosy cheeks from going outside in the cold and parents making lists to figure out what to get for their kids and their friends' kids and so on. Laughter and excited chatter is always in the air, warm wishes and the general "what are you doing for the holidays" is always the most frequent topic among the people. And then at the end of the day, maybe people would nestle in front of their fireplaces, drinking hot chocolate with a mountain of marshmallows on top of it or reading Christmas stories to their children before retiring for the night.

But that's only one side to this joyous holiday. The other side is so much more hectic. Wanna know what that is?

Christmas shopping.

Gotta get those presents for those loved ones before they're out of stock and then you'll be up a tree. A trip to the mall is in order of course, but going there just for presents is only half the battle. The other half is making sure your kid gets that chance to sit on Santa's lap and tell him what they want for that special day, squeezing in a picture or two with the man in the red suit and maybe with one of the Santa's helpers too.

And there's one elf in particular who looks absolutely happy to be there as he rings the bells in his hand while directing the next kid to go sit with Santa.

Or rather she.

Roxas is having a great time really, dressed in his costume. Why he's there, well. Let's just say he got volunteered by an "unknown" person and couldn't back out at the last second because the other elf volunteer had managed to bail before him. So he's stuck until he can clock out of there. ]

No cutting in line, please. You'll all get your chance to tell Santa want you want for Christmas.

[ Meet Roxas, aka Peppermint. ]


[ ooc; FAMILY PORTRAIT EVENT!! Feel free to have your character be whoever you want them to be to him. He's not going to be in the best of moods and wondering just why in the world he's dreaming this in the first place. Obviously he needs a spot of sunshine in his dreary life. 8) ]

It's quiet among the trees. No, not completely quiet, for he can hear the voices of the birds, some in chorus and others singing singly, their bright little independent songs. He can hear the sounds of other creatures, too. Some of the flowers have lilting voices. Some of the trees shed tears. A squirrel cries out sharply. A fox barks. Insects chirp about the weather and their fellows, noisy busybodies that they are. Farther distant, a large reptile, like a small dragon, grunts out its appreciation of the most recent meal it has caught. The forest is never truly silent. He's always been able to hear these things, but only recently has he learned to understand.

No, it is not quiet, but it is tranquil, a peaceful, constant symphony humming in the background. Kuja leans back against the tree, conscious of the roughness of the bark against his back. Through his half-closed eyes, he studies the patterns made by the light falling through the leaves overhead. By the angle of the light, he can tell the time of day, but time no longer matters to him. It is not ticking down toward anything, or if it is, he doesn't mind. He lives, and that is what matters. He has been given another chance, though he may not have deserved one. His life was saved, through no fault of his own, and he finally knows what it means, life.

He never loved the world as much as he does now. In the past, he didn't love it at all. Quite the opposite It wasn't his world, then, and he was incapable of love. He existed only to destroy this planet, but he has been freed from that burdensome purpose.

When he hears someone approaching, he assumes it must be Zidane. He opens his eyes wider, rises to his feet, and moves forward through the undergrowth at an unhurried pace. The branches tug at his flowing sleeves and robe, but an invisible force frees the garments at once, gently pulling back the twigs and leaves.

A line of poetry runs through his mind as he walks: if you listen you will hear within the greenest glade/ music much more vast and bright than any man has made.

Kuja has always loved music, and the beasts and birds and plants and very soil of Gaia are singing to him as he goes to meet his brother. But he stops, suddenly, when he catches sight of the person approaching. This isn't Zidane. So who is it?

[[OOC: You may treat this as a family themed entry if you wish to be related to Kuja, or just have your character be themselves.]]

[Castelia City is a grand, magnificent city by the harbor, an ever-changing metropolis where all kinds of people can be found. Here, the hustle and bustle of city life rule, and people charge past each other in a bid to win the rat race.

There is, however, a moment of peace today in the Central Plaza, something rarely seen in such a place as Castelia. Whitlea is taking advantage of this, and thus has invited over a few of her friends and family from Nuvema, and from across Unova. It's easy to do when you're the Champion, but what was harder was finding enough free time to get there. She's managed to clear a spot in her busy schedule just for today, though, and is looking forward to meeting them again.

...of course, not even the Champion can get to Casteliacone fast enough to avoid the long lines.

But she's finally managed to buy it! And right now, she's running up to the person she hasn't seen in a while: you. Perhaps you're sitting on a park bench waiting patiently for her, perhaps you've wandered off in search for her, perhaps you've grown bored and decided to leave just before she came over. Well, here she is now, bearing two ice cream cones.]

Sorry I'm late! I couldn't get to Casteliacone fast enough. Had to wait for hours, but trust me, it's worth it.

[ today, you've gotten a call from a nurse at Abbott-Alabaster Hospital. there's a family member currently occupying one of their rooms and as their kin, you're notified.

for some reason (to lecture, to scold, to make fun of, to be a good sibling, etc) you've found it in you to take time out of your very busy schedule (or maybe it's an empty one) to come down and see him.

and there, in room 301, he sits.

Riku covers his mouth as he coughs and looks over as you enter. his face is red and his eyes are dim, hair a mess. he looks somewhat damp--not surprising given what the nurse told you about his situation. apparently, he saved someone from drowning on one of the frozen lakes--the ice cracked and he fell in and then had to be fished out.

he slowly turns his back to the figure. ]

I told them not to call anyone.

[ he's a big boy. B( go away. ]

[ooc: if it's not too much trouble, i'm thinking of threads happening chronologically--first thread first and so forth. so far I have a stepsister for Riku and a dad (stepdad? idk Eleven does what he wants) so besides those, go ahead and throw any family member you want!]

[This is a child's dream, or so it seems. The age of the child is difficult to determine, but he must be younger than ten. His hair is pale silver, his eyes bright green. The dream flickers from scene to scene, the mood shifting from quiet to cheerful to unsettling.]

☄01

In the middle of a gray room, he is kneeling on the floor, in the course of solving a complicated three dimensional puzzle. There are thousands of pieces, but as complex as the design is, Sephiroth snaps the pieces into place quickly, one after another, the puzzle steadily rising like a tower before him. It has a somewhat organic shape, twisting and branching as it rises, and it is difficult to say what its final shape will be, if not something abstract. Whatever it is, Sephiroth seems completely absorbed in building it.

☄02

It's a sunny day.

The greenery of the open countryside surrounds him, and Sephiroth is alone, wielding a practice sword, swinging it at tree branches. There is no other person, or even so much as a man-made structure, in sight. In spite of his youth, Sephiroth is inhumanly swift and well-coordinated. Humans can't jump so high or so far. There's a certain playfulness to his actions as he leaps and swings his weapon, felling leaves and branches, but there is precision, too, and strength, and the game has an undercurrent of gravity. He's playing, but he's training.

☄03

The scene changes, and again, he is alone. Every scene begins with him alone. This, however, is different than the gray room and the green countryside. There should certainly be people here: he finds himself in the middle of downtown Midgar, tall buildings rising on either side of him. It is nearing twilight, and the streetlights and electric signs are lit, but the streets themselves are deserted. Where has everyone gone?

Sephiroth doesn't know, but he can hear a noise in the distance. At first, it sounds like the voices of a crowd reduced to a murmur by the space separating him from it. There's music, too, a band playing, and marching. A parade? That might explain the absence of people here. Maybe they're all at the parade. He hurries toward the sound, but as he grows nearer, the marching becomes an ominous rumble, and the murmur of the parade-goers changes, rising into a cheer. But the tone of their voices is so high pitched, almost alarmed.

It sounds like screaming. His eyes widen.

He quickens his pace further, trying to reach the crowd, but no matter how fast he goes, the parade remains ahead of him, always just out of sight. And are the people cheering or screaming, or both?


[[OOC: December event! This dream is family-themed. Sephiroth, who never truly had a family, and who finds himself alone in the current time, is feeling a lack of connection with others and dreaming of himself as a child. Those who make their way into the dream will feel a pull toward believing themselves related to Sephiroth in some way (and the belief will be mutual), but the nature of the relationship or whether one resists the pull is up to the player. Feel free to enter any of the scenes.

Replies will come from pinnaculum.]]

[ The Doctor simply nods to the dreamer as they find themselves in The TARDIS console room. He's flying around the console, as par usual, hitting random things and random dials. Sitting on his head is a cowboy hat. Somehow, it just works with the bowtie, suspenders and green coat. Don't ask. ]

Right then! I've got a special treat in mind. [ He turns away from the console, facing the dreamer with a smile on his face. He crosses his arms over his chest. ] I've got the TARDIS set up to land on one day of the year - any year - any place in any year! One special day. It comes around every year but it's the day that almost everyone looks forward to. All I have to do is hit the randomize blinker and we're off!

Call it a present! You'll understand when we land.


(( ooc: non-event post for December! The Doctor is taking your characters to a place they've never been before on December 24th--Christmas Eve! Just head on over to the R.N.G. and leave the number you picked somewhere in your post. The numbers are from 1-5. It can be brackets, subject header, whatever~ but you won't know where your character is going until they do! ALSO: This is a canon update post to post-Closing Time (6.11). The Doctor is off on his round about last tour before he heads to his death. Hence the present to you all. ))

The forest is quiet, and green. A cloaked man heads towards an altar in a clearing, already laid out with candles and, crosswise, his sword in its sheath. He takes a deep, cleansing breath, and picks it up.

"Kunzite!"

The voice interrupts him. He fires a swift, angry look in its direction, unwilling to let the blue-haired girl hurrying towards the clearing from the forest's edge interfere in this. Under his glower, the ground shakes violently and a chasm opens between them, stopping her short as she scrambles to keep her balance and can go no further. She shouts something else, but her voice is useless and the sound is stillborn. Her mouth works uselessly, frantically, as she tries to make herself heard, to no avail.

Kunzite frees the weapon from its rest, and throws the sheath carelessly on the ground. His hands are steady as he deals his own death blow and gives a great, wordless cry. Mercury can only watch, face tight with conflicting emotions and dark eyes forcibly dry.

--

There's nothing to explain how the forest has suddenly changed, but Mercury is still there. The chasm is gone. The altar has been replaced by a memorial tablet. Glimmering flowers, closed buds made of living ice, grow throughout the entire clearing; it doesn't take counting to know there are one thousand and ninety-four.

Mercury tends the grave site, as she has done regularly for three years now, as she will do tomorrow when she awakens. If the passing of time has helped to alleviate the impact, it has not lessened the importance. As she pours the water over the stone, her face becomes almost calm in repose as she sinks into reflection.

She could use a sympathetic presence.

It's a sky of storm clouds, dark and threatening, piled against each other, the air thick with the scent of ozone - but it's a silent sky.  The clouds don't move, there's no storm wind, no rumble of thunder or flares of lightning.  Instead the sky is static, heavy.  Indifferent.  Strange streaks of a living, glowing green trace across the sky in slim arches, frozen in place, paths or trailing ends of forgotten energy.  Underfoot, barren, ancient, rocky ground falls away on every side.

It's an island of rock floating in an endless sky, flat on its surface, bottom a jagged mess, as if it was ripped out of somewhere better by its roots and left to drift through a sea of storm clouds.  Far in the distance there are other uprooted clots of earth, just as barren, just as forgotten.  This island in the middle of nowhere however isn't empty.  There are ruins here, fallen pillars.  And there are bodies.  So many dead bodies.  Soldiers, scientists, civilians, scattered around the ruins, each one dead, each one bearing the traces of a violent death even if they blur at their edges and become indistinct if looked at too closely. 

There is one body that's still alive though, deep in the heart of the ruin, sitting on weathered steps that lead to nowhere.  There's a giant sword driven into the stone near his right side and a thick leather wing spreads out from his left shoulder.  He's not dressed in his usual garb, instead a ragged, lethal mix of clothes from memory, not always his, and he doesn't look up from where he has he mouth and chin pressed into the hands of flesh and clawed steel woven in front of him, elbows resting on his knees.  The stairs are clear of bodies beyond his. 

Except for two. 

On his right, near the bloody sword is the body of a dark haired man in SOLDIER uniform, spiky hair clotted in his own blood, blue green eyes closed for good.  On the left, almost under the stretch of the wing is a brunette woman, dressed in pink, flowers scattered dying and forgotten around her.

Blue eyes the color of the lightning that doesn't move through the empty clouds lift at intrusion but other than that Cloud doesn't rise or move at all.  He's here with his dead. 

What do you want?

ooc. so, another Cloud's-messed-up post.  Because we have got to get through these so we can move on to the naked in high school dreams  that just killed the atmosphere I was trying to set didn't it?  Anyway, I am shamelessly swiping the Dissidia setting and his alternate Kingdom Hearts outfit from that too.  He's not Kingdom Hearts Cloud, though feel free to think he is if that applies.  And yes, that's Zack and Aerith quite dead on the stairs with him (though that doesn't mean if you're Zack or Aerith you can't still come for the sheer mind screw of it all).  Be prepared for the emo - or conversely, some violence.  He's just come to the realization that he's going to have to abandon his family in his waking world and he's not in a chatty mood.

The desert sun beats down in full force upon a river of sand. It looks uncrossable, at least by any normal means. Though it's clearly grains of dust and dirt, it flows naturally, rippled with small waves. Dead trees grow within it, with only barren branches.

A boat approaches, a ferry carrying a hooded and cloaked figure. It glides noiselessly atop the sand. Slowly, finally, the ferryman brings the vessel to a halt just nearby. Her face is still hidden as she waits, hand out, for her fare.

"Hop on," she offers, and the voice is clearly feminine. "And unburden yourself." In the dream, everything lost can be regained come morning.

"You have something you want to leave behind, don't you?" It's a shrewd guess; very few people are without regrets they'd like to forget. She makes it sound almost enticing.

A droplet of water, then another, another, another, soon it's a steady noise, constant as the ticking of a clock. The sound echos faster, picking up like a heartbeat against the darkness. Small sparks of white dot the sky lighting up like fireworks but remaining suspended against the false navy backdrop-- pinpricks glittering against a void. He can't focus on them for more than a rare few seconds, because his legs are moving under him, treading water. Running as fast and as hard as he can, to keep himself above-- he just needs to get to safety-- the tips of his toes and the pads of his feet dipping centemeters below the surface. Struggling desperately to keep above the mirror relfection in the water. It's becoming thicker, heavier, clinging to his ankles, pulling him down, cloying with it's grip. 

No no no--

He gasped, arms outstretched, grasping at anything and everything-- but he can see nothing other than the water seeping into his clothes, grabbing at him, the father it dragged him down the darker the mirror turned; the surface no longer shimmering clear water but brilliant red blood. Transforming with his every reisistance, turning thick and heavy like quicksand; pulling and straining and pleading as his gaze shoots back up--help help, Raven, Raven, where are you?-- and just within his grasp is a hand. He reaches for it, for salivation in this faceless man. His fingertips curling against another's, a desperate cry tries to break free but this one is allowed no release; the quicksand already crawling up his sides, down his throat, he's suffocating even before he goes under. 

He pulls at the hand again, please--

The fingers spread apart, letting his own sift through and he slips under, down into the blood, and then deeper, deeper, till it's no longer even blood-- it's just an inky blackness. There's no air for him only a burn in his chest; he's choking, fading, but just before true darkness takes him in he's breaking surface again. The whole world turned on his head as he drops from the water-- the rustling sounds that began in the darkness still echoing in his sudden freedom. His back hits the ground and he's shocked by the sudden spark of light and life.

An expanse of grass is laid out before any visitor, spreading into the distance as far as the eye can see. Checkered light and dark, but no less lush in either color. A flatland so expanse it's blatantly unnatural, only curving as if from the standing point below Charles one might be able to see the curvature of the earth. Dotted along the map are what appear to be giant blueberries, each smooth on one side and scaled on the other, ridges akin to fish scales defined across the surface closest to the sun on each. Every third berry has a stem protruding from  the top, long curling barked wood spiraling in figures more natural to smoke than wood, speckled with illuminecent leaves. The dozens of green, gold and bronze leaves are all finely crafted glass, chiming gently in a breeze that couldn't be felt against skin. 

Charles looks lost, recovering from the spiraling nature of his dreams, still dressed in his pyjamas. A soft cottony white, perhaps a size too big, striped with baby blue and lined in that same deep hue. His feet are warmed by a pair of black house slippers with two points on each in the shape of feline ears. His hair is skewed to one side more than the other, looking much like he was rustled out of his bed and into this strange dreamland without warning. 

[OOC: Hello all! This is Charles' first venture into the joint dreamland. If I was unclear or if there's any questions or if I've done something wrong feel free to let me know! It's late at night so I always feel a little iffy about making posts, but I was overexcited so I did it anyway. Anyway, look forward to threading with you all. :) ]

[Destiny Islands. A tranqil place that's filled with Light and Love. Or so it would be, were it not for the heavy, heady feeling of despair, guilt and darkness. Clouds promise heavy rain, or would if it did not smell like rotting eggs mixed with another smell.

The land itself is cracked as if in drought, and everything seems.. dead. Lifeless. If there is any life or light, it's well hidden. Ventus is there too, sitting on the jettey, looking out at the sea.

A sea of blood that laps at the tips of his shoes and cakes the shores. It stinks something horrid. Looking at Ventus himself, it's plain to see that his eyes are a broken blue still. It's not much compared to everything around him. Even the crooked smile is broken. Guilty.

While he might be guilty, it's also temptered with anger and betrayal and a sense of I-pleased-him-i-did-good-i-did-what-i-had-to-to-see-the-light.

Yet still, a broken sob wracks his frame and soon enough, he's curled up, crying and whimpering as the rain - thankfully not bloodies or acidic - starts to fall.

Beside him, Wayward Wind sits covered in blood and the taint of darkness.]


{{OOC: Tags returned after dinner.}}

Autopilot was a wonderful invention when one travels for days on end, because he certainly needed the rest. Sleep came quickly to one certain Lombax, and the enviroment around him changes drastically.

Except now he's not sleeping. Under the crimson sky of the Kyzil Plateau, the cat-like alien is hard at work on something spread out in front of his garage, tail swishing happily as he's lost in the project. But then he pauses, puzzled by something, and the Lombax crawls back out, glancing about.

"Huh."

He hops off, scratching the back of his head before walking around to the back of the ship.

"Hey Clank? Did I leave the turbo back here?"

Except the little robot wasn't there. In fact, for all sakes and purposes, he was alone in the desert wasteland.

"--did I leave you back here? Clank? ...Clank?"

The only response he would recieve is the shuffling of someone else, drawing nearer.

"Hey! Who's that?"

The landscape appears to be the grounds near his house, though with the fog and dark sky it may not seem too different for those who had visited him in the place. It does seem as though he is mentally trying to hide everything. Any visitors would approach from a side that has a garden. The flowers in it seem wilted, unattended to. He's standing further in the fog, though. And if they keep moving forward, they might notice a shadowy figure standing beside a tall wheelchair in the distance. There's a general chillness in the air, and it might seem slightly unwelcoming to people. Not the warmth that one might expect when visiting and speaking with Charles Xavier.

Beyond the fog, Charles is standing there. And it might be surprising but it is not his home. There is a beach. There's a crashed sub and jet there. There's still extra sets of footsteps in the sand, but he is certainly alone. Charles has a hand placed gently on the wheelchair he is standing next to. Despite the chillness in the air, and the strong sense of security, Charles' expression is caring, and even genuine, when he turns to face the visitor. He doesn't say anything, just nods, then turns to look back out at the water of the beach.

[ OOC; It's been awhile, guys! I'm back, it seems. And Charles has been updated to post-canon. Also, you're welcome to action if you'd prefer that to prose. ]

[The room is open and bright, all old, dark wood and sunlight spilling in through the large windows. It's a nice enough room, walls lined with bookcases and with a large fireplace on one side. In the centre of the room is a table and two chairs, and on the table a chessboard. The pieces aren't black and white but made of wood, one side the colour of maple the other stained darker. There is a half-drunk glass of brandy by the chessboard, lipstick smudged on the side, and the record player in the corner is playing Glenn Miller. Everything about the room speaks of an earlier time - unless, of course, you're from an earlier time yourself. Then it probably doesn't.

There's a woman by the window, a cigarette held carelessly in her hand as she leans out the open window. Red lipstick marks the end of the little white cylinder. She looks like she belongs here, which is to say she has the same sense of an earlier time. She's wearing a pale blue dress, buttoned down the front and belted at the waist, and heels, her brown hair curling around her shoulders. Though she looks fairly harmless, there's a sense of something. A pressure at the back of your mind, like someone reaching out and touching. She freezes and glances over her shoulder. Her eyes are blue, their intent focus at odds with her otherwise calm expression. When she speaks, she sounds curious, but not alarmed. However, there is a definite hint of steel beneath her British accent. It's a warning for anyone who might want to cause trouble.]

How did you get here?