[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]

"but i'm not." Sans-Serif hiccups faintly, then shakes his head. "i'm not. n-not without my brother." He's not tough, he's not brave, he's not anything without S-4. Or at least, he's nothing that he wants to be.

But despite his spoken doubts, the little skeleton struggles to stay as still as his counterpart, presses both hands tightly against his mouth as though to physically stop the sobs from escaping. Even if it makes his shoulders shake with the effort, it's a little more still. Perversely, perhaps, he freezes entirely when Neil pulls the saw out, even if it's the sort of stillness that can only be borne of real terror. But it's also not the first time he's been told to hold still while someone in a lab coat pulls out one of those. They never meant to hurt him when they did, of course not. Hurting just...happened. Hurting was necessary so the job could get done.

Fortunately for Neil, and fortunately for both skeletons, the strings split easily beneath the blade, parting easily with sharp "twang" sounds that are somehow audible over the whirring. With the doll holding steady against Sans-Serif's initial attempts to scramble away, with Sans-Serif motionless from terror, most of the connecting threads will be easily accessible without having to risk bringing the saw too near to one or the other.

The last one that might be harder to access joins at the elbow of the arm on the opposite side from where Neil is standing. The doll tugs forcibly to bring the other skeleton's arm up - and, unfortunately, he tugs so forcibly that the arm comes off, clattering pathetically against the floor. Sans-Serif whimpers faintly to see it, half-reaches out to try and pull it back. Then he takes another look up at the blank-faced other skeleton, and seems to think better of it. Instead, he scrambles gracelessly back up to his feet, presses his remaining hand tightly over the empty socket, and takes several stumbling steps backwards. The doll, meanwhile, waits patiently for Neil to cut the last thread.

[dr_awesome]

"Don't talk like that. Honestly, there's not enough room in this excuse for a lab for you to be hating yourself like the rest of these jerks seem to." He mutters under his breath as he continues struggling with the strings. "Besides, I'll get you to your brother soon."

The skeleton's position is a little worrying, but at least he's still. Neil just vows to ignore how sick he may feel and get this over with without a single instance of pain for the skeleton. He's not like the others here. He isn't going to put this kid through hell for the sake of an experiment. They can claim it's for the future of monsters if they want, but Neil sees it as them being psychopaths, plain and simple.

He sees the last thread, and is about to carefully lift Sans-Serif's arm up, but the doll seems to take charge, and Neil almost cries out until he remembers that skeletons can detatch their limbs without much pain. He just scrambles over to the last thread and cuts it, before grabbing up the discarded limb.

"Don't move a fucking inch," he warns the doll, before he turns back to Sans-Serif.

"Hey, buddy. It's okay. I've got you. Could you come over here so I can put you back together?"