[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

[lovetheme]

A
You open your eyes to somebody knocking on the door.

You're lying flat on your back on a bed. ...A small children's bed, just wide enough for two, with a pair of small pillows at the headboard to accommodate each. It has clean white sheets. There's a larger bed right beside it, with larger pillows and orange sheets--empty, though.

And there's a door somewhere across the room, and the knocking persists, haphazard and impatient. A small boy's strangely familiar voice pipes up from behind it.

"Hey!! How long long're you gonna sleep?! Get up so we can play! Get up, already!" A huff. "The Dragos brought their babies over! They're really cute!! Hurry up!" The knocking finally stops, after this, and there's a clatter of light steps as the boy audibly roves off and away from the door, excitement evidently getting the better of his patience. Silence falls.

It's a very comfortable little room. Wooden floors and walls, wood tables and chairs, jars and flowers propped on shelves. To one side there's a woodstove, emanating a warmth that fills the small space; beyond that, a small dresser with a mirror hung over it. Not much else, in here. Truly, there's an almost spartan air of simple living about the place, greatly at odds with the ornamental dust of the castle.

A small set of stairs lead down to the door.

B
You're standing in an elevator. It's small, and drab--gray metal-paneled walls, gray metal-paneled floor. The doors are sealed shut in front of you, and there's nothing labeled around it to indicate any floor numbers. But the elevator's definitely moving upwards; the hum of it vibrates all around, thick and oppressive, alongside the tug of gravity at your feet.

Lucas is standing next to you, the determined set of his features belied by the paleness of his face. Every line in his frame is strung tense and anxious. In one hand he's carrying a simple metal baseball bat, and his eyes are fixed forward, staring at the door.

"I wonder if this one will be the hundredth floor." When he does speak up his voice is barely audible over the elevator's hum. He seems to talk more to himself than anything. His eyes don't move from the doors.

And then, right on cue, a jarringly cheerful jingle rings in through some hidden speaker in the ceiling. A woman's voice, cool and calm: "Next stop, 100th floor."

Lucas hardly seems relieved to hear this, for some reason. His grim expression doesn't shift at all, in fact, until the humming ceases and the elevator bumps to a halt and the doors slide open, pale light filtering in from outside. Lucas steps out and pauses, waiting for you to follow.

For everyone who doesn't sleep. :P

[lightofthestars]

It has been a strange week. The air does not feel right, and Tauriel's friends have spoken to her of odd dreams. For one who does not sleep--not as mortals do--it confuses her, and though she offers what comfort she can, there is only so much she can do.

Surely she cannot be the only one so perplexed...?

B!

[lostinmyway]

It's a little surprising to see Lucas beside her--but only a little. After all, she's been visiting lots of places this week.

She follows Lucas out the door and reaches for his empty hand.

"Everything's going to be all right, dear," she says gently. She'll look after him.

[lostinmyway]

A

You'll find yourself sitting on a red-and-white checkered picnic blanket. By your elbow is a wicker basket with the lid flipped open, showing carefully packed food. A blueberry pie sits on top.

Around you is a small grassy patch and one huge garden simply bursting with flowers in all colours, all riotously healthy. Behind you is a wide dirt path, and surrounding you are tall trees.

On your other side is Grune, but she isn't paying attention to you at the moment. Instead, she's watching a teenaged girl in bright yellow with pigtails chasing Sophie around. Sophie is shrieking with laughter, and the teenager is giggling as she yells "I'm gonna get you!"

There are other people at the picnic as well: another teenage girl with pigtails, blond instead of brown; a motherly young woman with her hair in a bun; yet another blond, this one a young man who looks as if he's grumpily wondering how he wound up here. And off to one side, a five-foot monster bird with a huge curly plume upon its head is pecking at the ground in search of bugs.

At last, Grune turns to you, beaming. "Isn't this so much fun?"

B

It's dark. It's cold. Around you are the shapes of buildings, elongated past all sense and twisted into shapes that couldn't possibly be real. The air is claustrophobic; it's hard to breathe.

Far away (or three paces off), there are two patches of light in the darkness. One light is green shot with white, warm grass on a summer afternoon. The other light is deep purple with black mist roiling through it, the airless void of space. The purple light is slowly but inevitably overpowering the green.

If you approach the wielder of the purple light, you will find a woman standing tall, barely visible through the mist. She is dressed in black and purple and her hair is a faded aqua that, even tied back, hangs to her calves. That mist reaches for you, ready to wrap you up until you can no longer see and you wake gasping for breath.

If you approach the wielder of the green light, you will find Grune. She stands tall, her head held high in spite of her quickly approaching defeat. She does not notice you just yet.

[sansational]

A
What a nice little town you've found yourself in.

It's a cluster of cozy wooden cabins on the edge of a wide, slow river. There's snow on the ground and frosting every roof and windowsill. Christmas lights are strung up frequently to light a place that has never known sunlight. There's even a brightly decorated tree in the center of town. The town's inhabitants - a variety of shapes, sizes, and creatures - go about their business, smiling and calling out greetings to one another and to you. A bear in a button-down shirt counts presents beneath the tree. A rabbit in a rather nice blouse and skirt walks a smaller rabbit on a leash.

And a skeleton, who seems to all but materialize at your side. Sans is grinning happily, his usual hoodie zipped up all the way with the hood pulled up and over his skull - probably just because of the cold.

"c'mon, pal! i'm supposed to be the only lazybones around here." He takes your hand and tries to lead you onwards. "we've been waiting on you. don't got all the time in the world, after all."

B
The cave is lit by glowing gemstones scattered across the ceiling, a soft light coming up from the patches of tall grass, and the reflected shine off the water that covers the rest. Tall blue flowers are scattered here and there in the water and on the solid islands. Each of them makes a whispering sound that might individually be recognizable as a sentence, repeated over and over again without end. All together they make an indistinct sort of murmur that blends with the sound of water.

I am weak I let them down I am useless It's my fault I can't do it I let him die...

It might be a beautiful sort of place, if one plagued by an aura of lingering sadness in the air, if not for the demons prowling about. In reality, in life, they were good and friendly monsters - teenagers who liked to hang out in the woods, a shy singer who never got the chance to start taking lessons again, a robot who's shields weren't strong enough. Now, they're twisted and shambling things. Some of them seem to be melted and twisted together into new and nightmarish forms, some have just been made jagged and sharp and hateful by rage and pain.

And as they pace through the grass and water, they all call out with ragged, rasping, whispering voices:

"Saaaaaaaaaans..."

Sans is huddled in an overhang of rock, just a few feet away from you. His eyesockets are wide and dark with terror, and he's desperately trying not to shake too hard to give himself away. It's only a matter of time. It always is.

C
You're standing behind a control panel, alongside a taller skeleton in a labcoat. Sans - also wearing a labcoat - is visible through the wide window looking out into the room beyond. He's been securely strapped down to what looks like an operating table, so that he's facing up towards a grim-looking machine. The tubes extend upwards, into the ceiling. The prongs of the machine's beak are pointing down at Sans, right between his eyesockets. Despite this, Sans appears calm, even drumming the fingers of his hand on the table as he waits.

The taller skeleton addresses you without looking over. There's something strange about his voice, a static sort of undertone, but the words are understandable enough. "Double-check the temporal elasticity for me, if you would be so kind. And I think I left the reports from our last three tests on the table back there."

[dustless]

A-wandering the underground

Frisk, smiling, holds their cell phone tight. Voices chatter from it, and you find you know whose, even though you have no memory of when you met the owners' before. The cheery loudness of Papyrus; the somewhat more aggressive loudness of Undyne; the nervous stutter of Alphys; the calm, soothing words of Toriel; the understated chuckle of Sans; the regal pronunciations of Asgore; and even quiet, matching murmurs of Asriel and Chara.

Abruptly, they turn to you. "Who d'you want to visit first?"

B-the city

Between the skyscrapers and mountains, the sky is mostly grey, a few tears of blue visible between the clouds. Cars inch along in the road beside you, people part around you. You're on the sidewalk. All the peoples' faces are shadowed.

Papers flutter down the street. Cans clang as they roll and are kicked by careless passing feet. The air smells like fried food.

"Tickets!" a man booms from somewhere underground. Not too far away, there are stairs down leading to a subway.

Children laugh around the corner. There's a playground there. It's in the middle of the road, but none of the cars seem to care, driving beneath the massive jungle gyms and swings and slides.

The streetlights flicker, unsure of the time. Glimpsing reflections in the windows of the stores and homes show a child in different colors: green, blue, yellow, pink. They don't look at you, but they don't leave your side as you walk through the streets.

C-amalgams

You can only see a few feet in front of you, grimy floor tiles lit by green monitors filled with unintelligible text. Frisk is beside you, but they're not paying attention. They're just moving forward, eyes filled with tears.

Your companion is silent, but the lab is far from it. Your echoing footsteps slowly uncover other sounds. Distorted howls paired with the buzzing of ventilation fans. Twisted voices layering over each other, pleading and croaking and strident. A gasping, broken word, the speaker (if there is one) on the edge of tears. Staticky screaming. Wrathful hissing.

And yet, you can't see what's doing it. Whoever--whatever--are speaking is still up ahead, where they're leading you.

But you can't go back, even if you try. You're stuck with Frisk.

D-determination

Spears tear after Frisk, over and over and over and over. One rips through their chest with a terrible spray of blood, but then everything goes dark and you're both back at the edge of Waterfall, staring up determinedly, stepping forward again--

--or maybe you're standing in a foggy field in Snowdin, watching them trip over bones until they fall to their knees--

--or perhaps you're cheering in a crowed in front of the TV and somehow just to the side all at once, watching the human get zapped over and over even as they pose and scoff and make you cheer harder--

--or maybe you're standing in a city in shades of grey, or purple, and you're waiting for the child in front of you to give up or die or both--

--they're in your way. Or you're in theirs. Either way, if they get out, all scraps of hope the underground has mustered will be lost. Stop them.

C for now~

[dustless]

They should really know how to do that. Temporal means time, and they should be an expert on time stuff, but they're not. They're just squinting at the screen, watching wavy lines make their way across it.

"...don't think that's right," Frisk informs their boss, then ambles off to poke at the reports. Which they can't read when they pick up; the lines on it are moving just as much as the screen had. Great.

Sans looks calm. They don't see why he wouldn't be. There's no DT for it to extract, since he's a monster. They nod to him, and wonder if he can see how bewildered they are from the angle he's at.

B~

[dustless]

"...Did we go up, or down?" Frisk asks, eyeing Lucas' bat. They're holding their frypan for the first time in a while, and their locket is safely around their neck.

100 floors down reminds them of something dangerous and sad, but Lucas knows best for now, they think.

They glance backwards, brow furrowing at the lack of buttons even there. This was not designed reasonably at all. Which means, of course, that there's no way back.

Well. They're used to that.

Frisk steps out too, glancing around. "'S there a sign?"

[systematicsupport]

A

You find yourself in a simple room with plain white walls. Half of it seems to be fashioned like a normal office, with a desk covered in papers, a tall bookshelf full of journals, and a labcoat hanging off of a chair. On the other side of the room are bits of machinery that look more like they belong in a work of science fiction. Wires, beeping monitors, and lit-up screens are all attached to two large class tubes. One holds a skeleton, supposedly unconscious, and the other is empty.

The previous occupant of the second tube is now sitting at a table in the chair next to you. There's a variety of crayons fanned out around him, and he's hard at work bent over a piece of paper. If he had a tongue, he would be sticking it out.

After a minute or two, he taps your shoulder and holds out the page.

"Do... do you want to see my picture?"

B

You are standing in a harshly lit room. There is a clipboard in your hand, and attached to that is what appears to be a scientific report, listing off a certain subjects vital signs before and after certain experiments, information on magical abilities, and jot notes on behaviour. Most of it is in scientific jargon, and parts of it are in another language entirely. But the picture attached to the papers is easily identifiable as a photo of S-4.

S-4 himself is sitting in front of you, restrained by his wrists to a chair. He occasionally tugs on the straps, letting out quiet noises of frustration when his arms don't budge.

There's a presence beside you, a low voice that already sounds bored.

"Hurry up and give him the codewords already. I'm tired of listening to him like this."

S-4's head snaps up to look at you.

"I... I don't like this. Can I go back, please?"

[notsogrimreaper]

Definitely not the only one. Ryoji is finding all of this a little bit odd, and even though he often stays up during the night because of his bad nightmares, he's been finding that the feeling in the warm air makes him even less inclined to sleep.

So he goes for walks by himself, slowly pacing through the castle, occasionally finding books to thumb through to stave off boredom. A friend, however, holds off the mundane better than books, so when he spots Tauriel, he approaches with a small smile.

"Good evening."

[lightofthestars]

Tauriel smiles back at once. It is good not to be alone at night. "Good evening."

...Of course, her smile is followed by a small frown. "Should you not be asleep?"

A

[lostinmyway]

Grune is in the middle of looking around the room (it's very interesting!) when she feels a tap on her shoulder. She turns, and as soon as she sees S-4, her expression lights up in a smile.

"Oh, yes, of course! What did you draw?"

And B

[lostinmyway]

Grune doesn't like this, either. She looks up from the clipboard to S-4 in front of her, and--this isn't right.

"Yes, of course, dear."

She sets down the report and immediately starts pulling at the restraints. She isn't quite sure how they work, but she'll figure it out.

[dr_awesome]

A

The air is warm and stagnant in the castle, but a cool breeze blowing past you will alert you to the fact that you've entered a new dream.

You're up on a hill, and the sound of crickets chirping suggests it must be summer. Apparently nearby, there is a pair of humans taking part in one of the great summer traditions. A tent is set up under the shade of a tree, with an elderly man tending the fire. He calls out into the cool evening air.

"Neil, the hot dogs will be ready soon!"

There's a rustle from a nearby bush, before a small child with a messy head of curls and thick glasses bursts out.

"Not Neil! I'm the mad scientist Dr. Watts!"

The old man laughs softly.

"Yes, yes, of course. But mad scientists need to eat too!"

Neil rushes over to a spot where a telescope is set up. "Fine! I'll be right there!"

He apparently isn't going to be 'right there', as he's now eagerly looking into the telescope, up at the array of stars.

B

The scene abruptly changes into the interior of a rustic cottage, perfectly in time with the slam of a door being thrown open. Watts is leaping down the stairs two at a time, desperate to get outside.

A woman's voice calls out to him in confusion. "Wait, where are you going?" Neil halts halfway through vaulting over the banister. His steps slow, still bringing him closer to the door, even as he clears his throat and attempts to sound calm.

"I... gotta go take a leak."

Without another word, he's out the door. Will you follow him?

B for now!

[lostinmyway]

Normally, Grune loves cities. They're full of so many people living their lives all together, working hard to build a good future.

But this city isn't like that. She doesn't think the people here like working together.

She isn't alone, though. There's a child beside her. Maybe they can be friends.

"Hello," Grune says softly.

C

[dr_awesome]

...You know, when Sans mentioned taking part in a lot of science experiments, this is not what Watts expected. He expected more vials of liquid, more bubbling concoctions, not a thing that looks more like a torture device than a machine, and not anything regarding temporal elasticity. Was Sans really messing with timelines? Maybe this explains why he could teleport...

The other skeleton's voice snaps him out of it, and he looks over with a nervous grin.

"Uh, sure. No problem, doc. I can get you those reports. But uh... maybe refresh my memory on how to double-check the wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff? I'm afraid they didn't give me nearly enough training for this."

He looks back to Sans, trying to catch his attention and maybe get some sort of confirmation that this is fine and he shouldn't be trying to get Sans out.

B for now!

[lostinmyway]

The cavern is so beautiful. Everything is lit by soft blue light, and there are so many flowers everywhere.

But...it hurts. A hand reaches up to press against her chest. Everyone here is hurt.

Especially Sans. When she sees him, she steps forward, then kneels down in front of him.

"It's all right, Sans," she says softly. "I'm here."

A

[systematicsupport]

S-4 asked a lot of questions about 'outside'. Gaster had given him patient, simple answers. The other scientists had just waved him off. But nothing could have prepared S-4 for this anyways.

It's beautiful. Bright and cheerful and cozy, despite the cold white stuff crunching underneath S-4's feet. There are so many people and places to go that he has no idea where he could possibly start.

Fortunately, someone appears who would know, and S-4 beams excitedly to see who it is.

"Sans! Where are we?"

B

[lostinmyway]

Of course she will. Neil looks upset. She can't leave him to be upset alone.

"Neil, dear, where are you going?" she calls after him, even as she closes the door carefully behind them. It's important to have good manners, no matter what.

[sansational]

Sans laughs happily at S-4's obvious joy. "welcome to snowdin, bro!" He waves his free arm out wide to encompass the town around them. A perpetually smiling monster stops in its path to wave at them both. "you're gonna be living here one day - thought you should get an early tour, y'know. wish i had time to show you the house. but, uh, we've gotta head out into the woods today. wanna come with?"

He points back down the path, where a wide swathe of tall, bare trees is visible in the distance. "there'l be puzzles," he adds, hoping it counts for some extra incentive.

[mediadarling]

Mettaton hates being left out of the loop. He's a star--he's supposed to be at the centre of everything! But apparently, the drama and the action are happening while everyone is asleep. Considering he's never slept a wink for as long as he's existed, the chances of him getting in on that action are, in fact, zero.

Anyone running into him around bedtime will find him in a rather grumpy mood. Being a ghost in a robot's body can be a real drag sometimes.

[antitemporal]

A
Sans-Serif is struggling with himself. Quite literally - there appear to be two of him One looks much as he does in day-to-day life in the castle - dressed in his old lab clothes, a little sicklier and spindlier than he is nowadays, but basically the same. The other is empty-eyed and motionless and quiet, a doll in all but name. The two of them appear to be bound together with strings around their joints, and as they struggle and fight with one another, it only serves to get them more tangled up. As they fight with one another, it only serves to exhaust the real one (or is he just a delusion?) because the fake is evidently stronger (or was he the real one all along?).

You stand with your cohorts in the hallway of a lab, watching the two of them fight. Until at last one lets out a long-suffering sigh, steps forward, and clicks his fingers. "Anti-Temporal Interference Unit. Enough wasting time."

The doll lifts its head to regard the scientists, and nods. Resolutely ignoring Sans-Serif's attempts to hold it back or beat it down, it gets back to its feet, takes hold of the puppet strings, and starts to drag its counterpart onwards towards the open door at the end of the hall. Sans-Serif, meanwhile, kicks and struggles and thrashes with all his might, but to no avail. He screams, but nobody listens: "no no no stop it i don't want to i don't like this let me go stop...!"

B
You're sitting on a cloud. It's quite soft and fluffy, more like a pile of pillows than a collection of water vapor. The cloud is floating in the vast night sky, stars scattered all around. If you dare to look down, you'll see the castle in the distance, the treetops of the forest down below. You're not too high up. You won't fall.

Sans-Serif is sitting on a nearby cloud, secure enough with the situation to let his legs dangle over the edge. He appears to be eating something - something that causes sparks and lights to flash in his teeth as he crunches down. He stares out over the area, until he feels you looking at him and looks to you instead. "do you see it yet?"

C
The halls of the castle are dark and bloodied. Thunder booms and lightning flashes outside, rain pounding down against the stone hard enough to make the castle feel as though it's shaking beneath the weight of the storm. Bodies lay strewn about like ragdolls, some defined, some even recognizable, but others might as well be empty and broken toys.

You're standing at the end of one hallway. A flash of lightning illuminates the path ahead, highlighting but not quite identifying the bodies. Sans-Serif stands beside you, trembling hard enough to rattle with fear, trying desperately not to break down in sobs.

What appear for all the world to be two other Sanses stand on either side of him, one with a grip on each arm. One - taller and stronger, dressed mostly in reds and blacks - gives his shoulder a shake. "crying isn't going to do us any good. it'll just get us dead along with them. come on!" Another - bright-eyed and vibrating with energy, dressed in a strange sort of armor with a blue scarf around his shoulders - tries to urge himself on as well. "we have to find out who did such a horrible thing! and, as aspiring members of the royal guard, it is our duty to stop them!"

[sansational]

Gaster frowns. Normally, he's fine with instructing other lab workers. He provides a good bit of the training in the facility. And Neil is probably just nervous about the procedure - Gaster knows that he himself certainly is. But this is Sans' life at stake, and he finds himself feeling rather more impatient with untrained staff as a result.

Still, he leans nearer to Neil's side of the console, tapping a segment of the display with a fingerbone. "All you need to do is..." And the explanation gets lost in a haze of static, the words melding and melting together. In fact, he might actually be speaking backwards for a moment. Gaster doesn't seem to notice. He just straightens up and nods at Neil. "Do you understand now?"

Leaving Neil to figure out the display for a minute, Gaster turns aside to retrieve the reports himself. Neil still might get the sense that the display is not, in fact, correct, and should be fixed before they proceed.

Sans, meanwhile, hasn't looked over yet. He just kicks his heels idly against the operating table.

[sansational]

Gaster leans over Frisk's shoulder to regard the display. His eyesockets widen, and he nudges them carefully but insistently aside. "You're quite correct, that is not correct at all. Well done!" Hastily, he bends over the keyboard to tap out new parameters.

Sans looks over just in time to see Frisk return with the reports. He frowns at them for a moment, looking equally bewildered. But then the moment passes, and he goes right back to staring up at the DT machine, waiting. Gaster, meanwhile, reaches down to pick the reports out of Frisk's hands. He shuffles through them quickly, muttering to himself.

"Yes, all still appears to be in line with our last test. Well. We're probably as ready as we'll ever be, aren't we?" He looks up at Frisk, his expression grave as a skeleton's can be. "I will need you to keep an eye on his HP levels, while the procedure is underway. A decrease is to be expected, and we have failsafes in place. But, I would appreciate as many redundancies as possible."

[sansational]

He hears her drawing near, the water lapping around her shoes. Sans presses both hands firmly against his mouth to bite back a whimper, and tries in vain to push himself further back against the rock, shoulderblades scraping against it.

Then she speaks.

Sans' gaze snaps up, eyesockets widening in alarm even as they remain dark. He stares at her for a moment before recognition dawns, and then Sans surges forward to grab at her hand. "what are you doing?!" he hisses, as quietly as he can. "get out! you can still run!"