[mingle] what's the dream and what's the reality?

[lovetheme]

Lately the castle's nights have been very clear and almost warm, even up so high among the clouds as they are. But regardless of the weather, they are generally peaceful nights, and few things seem to stir during them...apart from the castle's inhabitants, be it with late-night roving or with sleep. The dreams, by extension, are at least undisturbed...if maybe not always pleasant. That sort of thing tends to vary by the person, of course.

But now--and for several nights, consecutively--the castle residents may find their dreams starting to take on stranger shapes: memories they've never had, friends that don't usually arrive, strangers they've never seen. These odd impressions might cling and continue to confuse even upon waking, vivid as they were; was it really just a dream, or maybe something more...? Does that newcomer in your dream remember you there too, in the daytime?

Either way, there seems to be an strange energy in the air during these nights. And it's bringing dreams together.

((ooc: And here's the catch-all post for the dream-sharing event! Feel free to top-level with your character's dreams here, or thread around in others! The event should only last about a week, but backtagging is eternal c: The ooc planning post can be found here!))

Comments

C

[systematicsupport]

S-4 has had enough dreams, especially over the last week, that he has started to recognize when he's been placed in one. Reality is usually solid and doesn't waver. It's easy to understand. Dreams are confusing and change too quickly to keep track of, and sometimes they contain images S-4 swears he would never see in real life.

He knows this is a dream. If this was real, there wouldn't be nearly so much blood. The bodies wouldn't change to show different faces every time he looked down. He's be able to feel the ground properly under his feet.

But even if it isn't real, the terror he experiences is real enough, especially when he hears the faint rattling of bones and sees Sans-Serif before him.

"Brother!"

He reaches out before pausing at the images of the other skeletons, looking between them with confusion. He can recognize both of them as Sans, but neither of them are Sanses he knows. It isn't just the normal Sans playing a prank and dressing in a costume... that one is taller and... darker, somehow, while the other is too energetic to be his brother.

Cautiously, S-4 takes a step closer, lifting his hand a bit more.

"I-It's okay... it's okay, I'm here..."

catmom reporting for duty

[regalduchess]

A. You're in a room, classy without being opulent; furnished in whites and creams, a splash of beige on a dustcover on the chair. Three kittens-- one black, one white, one orange-- play on the carpet. They're silent, though the entire dream entirely too muted and soft to be real.

B. Duchess pads through a jungle; large enough to turn her teeth into spikes and her claws into sharp, jagged points.

A panther, a white one, not meaning any harm, she stalks her prey-- you.

[antitemporal]

Sans-Serif looks up sharply at the sound of S-4's voice. He reaches up to wipe frightened tears from his eyes, the better to see his brother standing there. Even before the next flash of lightning properly illuminates him, he knows who he sees. The little skeleton smiles broadly in relief. "brother!" He tries to hurry over to him, but finds himself wincing instead as the other Sanses each tighten a hand on his wrist, holding him back.

"stay back, bro," says the one in red, glancing up at S-4.

"yeah, we'll protect you!" says the one in blue, fistpumping with his free hand.

Sans-Serif shakes his head fearfully. Of course, he wants his brother to be safe, but...he's scared, and if S-4 is here, that means he doesn't have to be brave. He wants to hold on tight to him, instead, so that whatever's in the dark doesn't get him, too. He finally manages to extend a hand towards S-4, if only because the one in blue is too nice to hold him back too forcibly.

A

[dr_awesome]

...Dammit. He's really getting tired of these science fiction dreams.

Watts has seen the smaller version of Sans around before, but he's been keeping his distance. There's a taller skeleton in the castle that looks to be his brother, and unlike Sans, he didn't seem like the type to want to just joke around and drink ketchup. Even making eye contact with him seemed to rattle the skeleton, and Watts wasn't sure whether he'd run away or attack. Since the smaller one is dressed the same, he's made the assumption that the two of them just aren't okay with him.

Unfortunately, in this dream, between the weirdly empty doppelganger and the crowd of apathetic scientists, Watts is probably the most okay in this dream. He doesn't know if the kid will trust him, but he can't just stand around and watch this. He pushes through the crowd as he yells at them.

"Hey! Yeah, I'm talking to you furballs! What the hell do you think you're doing? He said stop, so stop!

He breaks through and runs over to the two skeletons, grabbing the doll's wrist to try to hold him back while he tries to untangle the strings.

"It's okay, kid. I'm not gonna hurt you. Just give me a second to get these off of you, okay?"

[antitemporal]

The doll obediently goes motionless as soon as Neil grabs its wrist. When a scientist tells it what to do, it does it without question or hesitation. No matter how much dead weight its bound to. Sans-Serif, meanwhile, is left in a trembling, terrified ball on the floor, hugging himself and almost entirely unable to breathe for sobbing. He flinches violently to feel Neil drawing near, tries to move away. But with the doll now standing motionless, he can't go too far. So he just lays there, staring up at Neil, visibly struggling to focus on the man's face instead of his coat. "wh-what...?" His voice is hoarse from crying out, ringing with shock to finally be listened to.

Unfortunately, Neil will find it difficult to untangle the strings. They've been knotted up quite badly by the fight, and the threads are thin and sharp enough to dig and bite into his palms as he works at them.

The other scientists, meanwhile, continue watching at a distance, muttering amongst themselves. Although dubious at first, a few of them actually seem to approve of Neil's plan. If they could remove and throw away the dead weight, the useless junk that's grown up around their great experiment, everything would proceed much more efficiently. It's just that most of them aren't sure it can be done. So Neil is just wasting time. They should proceed as they have been.

[dustless]

Beside her, sort of. They stand where her reflection should be in the window of a restaurant. They don't leave, but nor do they look at her.

Seems they don't realize she's talking to them. There are other people walking by, after all. A few of the people even pause to silently give their greetings to Grune, slashes of white across their faces indicating smiles.

[lostinmyway]

Grune lets him take her hand, even if he's holding it very tight. In fact, she covers it with her other hand to make him feel better.

What he says is very strange, and she tilts her head to one side. "But then you would be all alone."

[dustless]

"Right." It's important. HP is very important. They have a very important job.

Frisk steps forward, pressing their face against the glass. The DT machine seems to be looking at them...they have an odd urge to push some gold under its beak. It jangles in their pockets, loud, distracting. They put their palms on the sides of their labcoat to make them quieter.

"But. Why does he need to be tied down? If things go wrong, running is good, and he can't."

[exuviiated]

A. Gotham's dark; always is, even during the day. The darkness that falls in the alleyways always makes it hard to tell whether the light at the end of the tunnel is a streetlight or the sun, both a dull white glow that can't penetrate more than a meter.

Senses, here, too, are wrong somehow-- it smells like mold, looks like dark, feels clammy and cold. This place has a taste, too, a bitter one that settles on the back of the tongue and stings.

B. This dream is brighter, a haze of dark greens and bright yellows, blinking lights and red buttons. It's harder to navigate, though; instead of a dark alley, it's long, a maze, complicated and winding and doubling-back and cramped. He's right there, dressed in his uniform and leaning against the wall; waiting.

[lostinmyway]

Grune says hello back to the people who pass--it's the polite thing to do--but her attention is focused on the child in the reflection. She thinks they look familiar...or do they?

She kneels down on the pavement and tries again. "My name is Grune. What's your name?"

B atm

[dustless]

Frisk squeezes the clipboard so hard that cracks ripple across its surface. They're not quite sure why. This is...this is...

"Why? He's not supposed to be in here." But where should he be, then?

They think about going to loosen the straps, let him out, lead him somewhere else, but their feet refuse to move.

A

[lostinmyway]

Grune had already been stepping forward to stop the fighting, but when the other skeleton starts dragging S2 away, she actually breaks into a run.

"You need to stop that right now!" she says with strength, not softness, in her voice.

[dustless]

Slowly, inch my inch, their head turns to regard her. Who is she talking to? There aren't any other kids here, or even pigeons she'd need to kneel to address.

Their lips part in surprise. Is...is she talking to them?

A hand reaches to press against the glass, and their face crumples. No, no, she can't be. Nobody ever talks to them. They don't exist, you know.

C

[lostinmyway]

Everyone is dead. Some of the bodies belong to strangers. Some belong to people she loves dearly. Maybe there's someone she can help there, but she can't look right now. Because she knows she can help S2.

She moves to kneel down in front of him and slowly, gently, reaches out to cup the side of his skull.

"It's all right to cry, dear. When you're sad that someone has died, that's an important feeling. You don't need to hide it away."

[sansational]

Gaster rests a hand against the glass, staring out into the room beyond along with Frisk. His nails scratch a little against it as his grip tightens for a moment. The question falls like a shove. It's a question he very much wishes he didn't know the answer to. "This is a very delicate procedure. He needs to stay still. But it will also be a very painful procedure, and so he might not be able to." Gaster turns resolutely away, but his anxiety continues to betray itself in the way he twists his fingerbones together. "If he moves or tries to run, things will become...imprecise."

The scientist nods to himself. His mouth draws into a thin, tight line. "Imprecise things are dangerous. So we must make certain that nothing goes wrong. That is our job. Staying still is his."

He leans forward to check the measurements on his side of the console again. They're probably right. He needs to be sure. "I am very glad that you decided to work with us, Frisk. The project made a great deal of headway with your input, in much less time than we could ever have managed alone."

B :3c

[dustless]

Wow, those are a lot of buttons. Tempting to press, too. But there's something else to do. Aaron's waiting for them, after all.

So they spring to settle beside him, copying his pose with a bright grin. They're wearing something pretty similar.

[dustless]

"Glad to help," they answer automatically. Helping is their job, always has been, always will be, and they are glad when things go right thanks to them. So this is good. They did good. Maybe.

They can't mirror Gaster's anxiety--if he messes up, they'll need to fix it, they need to be calm--but trepidation rises in their chest anyway. "Wish I could do it," Frisk blurts. "Instead of him."

The wavy lines on the screen start pushing their way out in ripples, slowly searching for fingers to grab.

[lovetheme]

Lucas, on the other hand, doesn't seem very surprised to see Grune here either. There's usually someone with him anyway, in the elevator. There's supposed to be. (There's usually...more people, even....)

He does seem quite visibly startled when Grune tries to reach for his hand, though, as they step out of the elevator; instead of taking it he actually shrinks away from it a little, and shakes his head apologetically. Now's not a good time for hand-holding, he doesn't think. When was it ever a good time to hold somebody's hand? (It hasn't been for a long, long time...)

"I don't know. It might not be. ...It probably won't be." He informs her of this with a tone that borders on mournful. And then he turns to the room they've entered. It's a large, warm, and humid; pale grass carpets the floor, and vines creep on the metal walls. But most prominent is the pond indented in the center of the room, large enough to run on into another room at the far end. A man in a hardhat stands next to the ramp circling the water, and in the water itself are enormous...hippos? They look like hippos, anyway. But there are metal rivets in their skins, and brown metal casings on their backs...

Lucas takes it all in with a frown. "Yes, this is the right room. This is right so far. Even if it isn't the hundredth floor...we're going to need to go in the water," he adds, turning to Grune as if to gauge her opinion of this prospect.

[lovetheme]

"Um..." Well, that's the question, isn't it? This does give Lucas some pause, as they step out. "We went up. Probably. I think that's right. It doesn't go down until--well, but that's still a long ways off, I think..."

Or so he'd always assumed, but who knows, really? It's terribly difficult to tell, using an elevator in a building where every floor is the 100th floor.

As soon as the step out of the elevator, though, the contrast is jarring. A room opens up around them, at odds in every way to the crowded but clean metal of the elevator--because this room is absolutely anything but clean. There are multiple tables and chairs, and a counter off to the side--all in the shape of some kind of very small fast food place, maybe. But there isn't a clean spot to be found anywhere in the place, from the filthy tables to the checkered carpet almost blackened with some substance that puffs some kind of dust with every step. A jukebox sits in one corner, barely discernible under a crusting of old ketchup that seems to cover every inch of it, and thus identifiable only because of the rather strangled music currently coming out of it.

There's people, too, some in rather punk-like clothing and sunglasses, others in very strange pig-like uniforms complete with helmets. A pale normally-dressed waitress turns to greet them as they step out of the elevator, smiling at them blankly. "Oh, welcome!" She pauses, coughing to one side. "Make yourselves at home..."

Lucas doesn't seem very surprised by their surroundings necessarily--but instead dismay fills his features, even as he draws forward, glancing past the waitress. "Not any signs, no...but--oh, this isn't the right room. This isn't the right room at all..."

[lostinmyway]

"It's all right," she says gently.

She lays the palm of her hand flat on the glass.

"I'm here."

C :'V

[lovetheme]

This is a familiar sort of unhappiness. Lucas knows the feeling immediately, like an old bruise, as unintelligible computer screens drift past and strange sounds filter through ventilation fans. He remembers this feeling very well--and yet he's...not so sure if he remembers this place necessarily. He doesn't know where this is. Or does he?

Frisk doesn't so much as hesitate, even halfway to tears, and Lucas has to shake the distraction out of his thoughts to hasten his pace a little just to keep up beside them. They're moving right towards the terrible familiar-but-very-not-familiar sounds, he notes vaguely--but he's not sure if he'd turn back anyway, even if he could. In places like this, you can't--you can't just leave...

But the dread sets in anyway, cold and heavy on his limbs. Lucas looks over to Frisk, since they're the only thing he can really see properly in the darkness. "Frisk, what are we going to do?"

[dustless]

"The dump," they say, because it reminds them of it. The floor even squishes like there's water beneath it if they stamp too hard.

They turn to address the waitress. Pause. Pull out their Manly Bandanna and hand it over. "Put that over your face," they instruct. Sure, they could wear it, but they're going to be moving on. This lady works here. "And I don't think we need anything. Right?" They look at Lucas, since apparently he's been here before. Besides, it's human food. That won't help them all that much.

[lostinmyway]

Grune looks around for a moment. It's a very pretty room.

But then she turns back to Lucas. He doesn't seem very happy at all.

"All right," she says. If Lucas says they need to go in the water, then that's what she'll do. She's sure he's right.

[dustless]

They press their face against the glass, too. They're confused, they're crying, they're fraying at the seams.

More and more faceless people surge through the streets. It's rush hour. Food is burning, people are making haste, and they'll start running into Grune before long. They'll apologize hollowly for it every time, but that doesn't stop the rest.

The child scratches madly at the window.

[lostinmyway]

Grune says sorry to everyone who runs into her, but no matter how battered she gets, still she stays where she is. In fact, she places her other hand on the glass as well.

"It's all right, dear," she says again. "I won't leave you. I promise."