[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

[antitemporal]

The Anti-Temporal Interference Unit doesn't stop in its work, even when Grune calls out. She's not a scientist. She's not its creator or its owner. She doesn't matter. Sans-Serif, meanwhile, is too exhausted from fighting to really notice much beyond his captor.

But the scientists notice Grune. One sighs, as though bored. "Honestly..." A couple of others step in her path with the intention of blocking her way. Their features aren't defined. They barely look like living things, instead resembling something like scarecrows or half-melted wax dolls. The only distinctive things about them are the labcoats.

[lostinmyway]

"Excuse me!" she says loudly. When the people in the white coats don't move, she pushes them out of the way and keeps running for S2 and the other skeleton.

If she can make it past them, she'll run until she's in front of the other skeleton, and will reach out to take his shoulders.

"You're scaring S2," she tells him. "You need to stop."

[antitemporal]

She'll be able to make it past the scientists - they feel rather like sacks of flour when shoved. Though they try to grab at her sleeves, their grips are fragile, their cries for her to stop strangely muffled.

The other skeleton, meanwhile, has resumed its previous instructions of trying to drag Sans-Serif on towards the door. It tries to shove her aside, but to no avail. With its path blocked, it stops in its tracks, staring up at her with empty eyesockets and no sign of recognition.

Then it leans around her to look at the scientist. The doctor taps his pen against his clipboard again.

"Get rid of her, Sans-Serif."

Obediently, he lifts a hand and clenches it tight, trying to turn her soul blue.

[lostinmyway]

But Grune isn't human--she only looks it. Nothing happens to her.

She looks at him first and says gently, "You don't have to fight." Then it's her turn to lean around him to S2. "Don't worry. I'm going to help you."

She reaches out to start undoing the strings.

[antitemporal]

The strings are quite twisted and tangled, and thin enough that even Grune might feel them biting sharply into her palm as she works. At least the doll makes no move to continue barring her way. How can it? She isn't a human, but it was only made to kill humans. What else is it for?

It's Sans-Serif who inadvertantly speaks on its behalf, as he stares up at Grune with wide eyesockets and dim eyelights. "y-yeah," he stammers. "it does. that's...th-that's all it is."

His small fists clench. He glares at the other him. It just stares back. "i don't like it. can you make it go away?"

[lostinmyway]

Even when her fingers begin to bleed, Grune keeps working. The blood makes it harder to hold onto the strings, but it's all right. Once S2 and the other skeleton are free, she can look after herself.

She looks up at S2 when he speaks, back at the other skeleton, and then to S2 once more.

"No, dear," she says, softly but firmly. "He deserves a chance to grow, too."

She goes back to untangling the strings.

[antitemporal]

Sans-Serif seems to visibly bristle at Grune's reassuring words, his fists clenching tight, his eyelights blazing brighter with the force of emotion, with the force of his hate. "he can't! he's empty inside and he can't grow..." He presses a hand against his own ribcage. "this is all he'll ever be, and..."

The doll reaches out quietly, and takes hold of the strings, too. Immediately, blood wells up between its thin fingers and drips surprisingly loudly onto the floor. But it dutifully sets to work anyway, trying to help Grune untangle them. The other (real?) Sans-Serif finds that he can only stare, mouth agape, words failing.

[lostinmyway]

Grune smiles at the other skeleton and sets a blood-damp hand over his. "Thank you, dear. Be careful."

She looks back at S2 to make sure he's all right for a moment. She's almost got one of the knots done--she just needs to work a little more.