[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

[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.

[lovetheme]

"I think it's called a Dur-T Cafe, actually..." But the correction is vague, and there isn't a lot of heart in it. Not like the place isn't two steps away from being a dump anyway, after all--he supposes Frisk has a point.

Another waitress, standing at the counter at the far end, clicks her tongue when Frisk stamps their foot on the carpet. "Hey! No running inside. You'll kick up the mold spores!"

The coughing waitress accepts Frisk's offer with the same blank smile. "Oh," she says, and she simply holds the bandanna in her hand, looking at the two of them. She answers before Lucas can, expression never really changing. "No, I think you don't need anything at all. You left us behind, after all, didn't you?" She stares straight at Lucas, and raises the bandanna over her mouth to muffle another set of coughs.

Her words seem to strike him like a glancing blow; Lucas shrinks away from her, then, starting to step forward and around her. "...I'm coming back. I know I need to come back, and I will. I've been trying to find a way, but, it's taking a long time..."

He avoids both Frisk's and the waitress's eyes, the words a pained mumble--but trying to get around the waitress only has him running into one of the men in a blue pig uniform. He reaches, grabbing Lucas's arm. "Hey. You're an impostor. But I know why you look so much like the commander now! You want to know? Don't you already know too? You guys look alike as twins--" But Lucas shakes his head, trying to pull away.

(sry lucas)

[dustless]

"That's the dumbest pun I've ever heard." Really nasty, even if it was apt. Why would anyone advertise their stuff as being dirty?

They narrow their eyes at the waitress. (The one that's talking to Lucas, not the one that gives them reasonable warning.) "We're here now, you know."

Alike as twins? Weird. "Lucas doesn't have a twin. It's coincidence." They're proud they remembered that word, and sound it, even as they start pushing on the weird pig person's arm.

ugly laughter

[lovetheme]

Doesn't have a twin? There's a short, audible gasp from everyone in the cafe.

The jukebox abruptly stops playing its music. The ambient movement of all the customers still. And every head turns to stare at Frisk, including Lucas's, his expression absolutely mortified.

A stricken silence stretches for a few too-long moments.

The Pigmask lets go of Lucas' arm, drawing back a step--maybe because Frisk's pushing worked, or maybe because he simply doesn't need to grab it anymore. "Well, I mean...I guess he doesn't have a twin anymore. But I wasn't going to say that."

Lucas steps away from him, still shaking his head a little. He stares down at the floor. "We're going to the elevator," he mumbles into the silence, and he glances up to Frisk for just a moment, expression unreadable, before he starts towards the second waitress's counter. There's a pair of elevator doors identical to the ones they'd just stepped out of behind her, sliding open as they approach.

The waitress fidgets, and moves aside. "Don't hang around behind the counter. You'll kick up the mold spores," she warns them weakly. Lucas moves to the elevator without looking at her. And every other face in the cafe follows Frisk as they cross the room, still staring.

oh jeez

[dustless]

Frisk shrinks, figuratively and literally. They're already not very tall, but everyone staring at them are suddenly towering, looking down on them.

They follow Lucas silently. Their feet sink into the floor, making it hard, or maybe it's the weight of all the eyes.

Anymore.

When they step into the elevator, they crouch down on the floor. Hiding. Trying to hide, even though they can't.

There are buttons now. Except when they glance at them, they discover they're camera lenses that whir harshly as they focus in on Frisk.

u tried frisk...u tried......

[lovetheme]

Lucas is silent as the elevator begins moving again, in an ambiguously maybe-up-maybe-down stomach-lurching fashion that fills the small space with its oppressive hum again. He hasn't turned around towards the doors yet, but stands and stares at the back of the elevator instead for a long moment. His breathing is a little funny. His grip has slackened on the baseball bat so much that it's just about to slip out of his hand entirely.

But after a few moments he seems to pull himself together, with some visible effort. A long, deep breath exhaled with a sigh--and then he turns around, blinking down to find Frisk crouching on the floor behind him. The buttons catch his attention, and Lucas frowns at them.

"Stop that," he mutters, poking at one of the cameras. (Poking at himself, a little, for letting it get that bad--no excuse for that. It's not very fair to Frisk at all.) The lenses recede back into the wall a little, reluctant to disappear entirely but apparently chastened enough for the moment; and then Lucas crouches down beside Frisk, setting the baseball bat on the floor between them for now.

"...Sorry." He folds his arms around his knees. "I know you didn't mean it like that."

[dustless]

The air smells of heated metal, and they drop the frypan by their feet, too. It's red-hot. There are marks in the shape the pan's handle seared into their palms, and they see blisters before they clench their fists, hiding it.

Me too, they say to him, though their mouth doesn't move at all.

The mold spores that stuck to their shoes start growing tiny tendrils.

[lovetheme]

The lights in the elevator flicker a little, and dim, but not before Lucas notices the burn Frisk acquires on their palms--the scent of heated metal is hard to ignore all by itself anyway. He wants to scoot a little closer, to be reassuring, but the baseball bat is suddenly an impossibly heavy weight between them, immovable against his shoe. So Lucas sighs quietly, tilting his head back against the elevator wall behind them instead.

"Yeah," he mumbles--or was that out loud? He's not sure if Frisk even said anything, either, but he already knows what they would say anyway. They're really such a kind kid. A kind friend. "...I'm glad you're here. I can't--can't make it through this building without friends. I'm not strong enough by myself...and I left the others behind."

The pause is a moment, but it feels long and slow. "Don't feel bad. I never told you about him, because, I hope he never comes to the castle. I don't want him to." The elevator's hum really is getting so loud...and his voice feels like it's getting swallowed in the process. Lucas wonders if Frisk will even hear it. (He hopes they can.) "We're going to have to fight the commander eventually, though. ...Always have to. That's--how it is..."

He frowns down at Frisk's shoes. "Don't let yourself get rooted to the ground." He peers at their hand, too. "Does that burn hurt a lot?"

[dustless]

"...they'll catch up," Frisk says quietly. "But. Still glad I'm here, so you're not alone."

The spores start growing--up, not down. They slowly climb up Frisk's shoes and socks. They don't seem to notice.

"Why? Wouldn't that be good? The castle's for help and new chances," they say, raising their voice before the noise cuts them off. Frisk is firmly certain about that.

Commander. They imagine a fusion of Undyne and Asgore, and the pan sends out a handful of sparks, tiny Asgore-attack bullets. They flinch back, hiding their hands in their folded arms. A little.